Book review: "Bless Me, Ultima"

Our July book club selection was the Chicano novel "Bless Me, Ultima," by Rudolfo Anaya. It's a coming of age story about a kid named Antonio who lives in New Mexico around the time of WWII.

Antonio feels pulled in different directions. His mother's family are quiet, calm people of the earth -- the Lunas. His father comes from the spirited, ambitious people of the llano -- the Marez. From the day he was born, he has been expected to choose to follow the path of one or the other. But that's not really what this story is about.

A curandera, Ultima, comes to live with his family. Antonio witnesses her magic, her connection to the world around her and her effect on the lives she touches. Seeing her work wonders in front of him calls into question Antonio's Christian belief system. But that's not really what this story is about.

There's a man, Tenorio, who hates Ultima and vows revenge on her because she believes she's responsible for the deaths of his daughters, who are found to be witches. In the end, Tenorio achieves his revenge by killing Ultima's owl -- her spirit animal -- and thereby killing Ultima. But... well, you know what I'm about to say.

All of the above things happen in the story, but what the story is really about is doubt. In this case, the doubt of the religion you grew up with, what you should be when you grow up and whether or not good can really triumph over evil. Any doubts a person has in their life could be transplanted into the story with the same result, which is this: It's ok to not know.

I appreciated this book because I myself have doubts about the faith I grew up believing in. And I think everyone has doubts about who they are supposed to be at one time or another. And with all the evil things that happen in the world, who wouldn't doubt whether or not good is fighting a losing battle?

The thing is, we probably won't get all the answers. And that's ok. Frustrating? Scary? Disappointing? Unnerving? Infuriating? Yes to all. We need to accept that we don't and won't know everything, that we don't and won't always make the best decisions. Once we do that, we can open our minds to new knowledge and experiences. And once we do THAT... well, we just might figure some stuff out, including, if nothing else, how we fit into life.

Lunch is serious business

When I was a kid, you were kind of a geek if you brought your lunch to school every day. All the "cool kids" bought theirs, and the "coolest kids" bought something horrible from the junk line like a cup of french fries or personal pepperoni pizza.

I was kind of a geek and brought my lunch every day except Fridays, when I was given a couple of bucks to buy something gross from the junk line.

I distinctly remember being in middle school and being MORTIFIED to carry a hot pink lunch bag. Because even if you were kind of a geek a brought your lunch, you weren't a SUPER GEEK if you brought your lunch in a brown paper bag. I was a super geek.

(I know this sounds completely ridiculous now, but when you're eleven years old and awkward and shy and an honor roll student, you've got to try to be cool in any way you can. Hot pink lunch bags were not that way.)

I couldn't understand why my parents didn't just spring for a package of brown paper bags. I still don't understand it, to tell you the truth. They're like $1! A very very small price to pay for your child's social well-being, I think.

Anyway.

Things were about the same in high school (minus the hot pink lunch bag. I started carrying these re-usable plastic bags that were much less obvious.) Then the most wonderful of days came when I was a senior and allowed to leave school for lunch. Most of the time I went home and ate a sandwich and watched "Days of Our Lives," but sometimes I'd go out with my friends.

Now that I'm an adult, I can look back on things that used to be a big deal and see that they really weren't. Everything seems super important while it's happening, I guess. Also, now that I'm an adult, I appreciate the financial responsibility of bringing a lunch from home every day (except Fridays, which are still reserved for eating out.)

And, finally, now that I'm an adult, I can appreciate a nice lunch bag. I bought one at Target just this week. It has butterflies on it. Butterflies are my favorite. It's pretty and sturdy and stands out in the office refrigerator among the various plastic grocery bags holding others' lunches. It is awesome.



I can't go back in time and assure my eleven-year-old self that the world really isn't going to end because she's carrying a hot pink lunch bag, but I can say that the eleven-year-old inside me is a bit ashamed of herself. She loves this lunch bag, however, and that makes her feel better.

Next up: A thermos!

Happy Anniversary!

Yes, it's the 4th of July. Our nation's birthday. But, more significantly to me, the anniversary of my grandparents' first date. (This year marks the 67th anniversary.)

Want to hear the story?

Warning: You will melt, be incredibly happy and then want to blow your brains out, all at the same time. (Actually, that could just be me. Hmmm.)

My grandparents grew up in a little town called Bartlett, TX that sits northeast of Austin. When they were kids, the place was hopping. Because of WWII, a lot of people left and never came back. Now it's basically a ghost town. Very very sad.

Anyway, they grew up together and it was one of those everybody knows everybody situations. My grandpa asked my grandma out many times, but she always told him no. He was a "bad boy," see. Always making trouble. And, frankly, she was a bit afraid of him.

Well one day a big group of friends all went out together, including my grandparents. My grandma decided that my grandpa wasn't so bad after all, and that if he asked her out again, she would say yes.

He did, and she did.

He borrowed his sister's car and drove my grandma to a neighboring town to see some 4th of July fireworks. Alas, the weather didn't realize this was a first date night, so it rained. As they were driving back to Bartlett, my grandparents decided they weren't quite ready for the evening to be over.

So what did they do?

They pulled over to the side of the road, turned up the car radio as loud as it would go and danced in the street in the rain.

*pause for reaction*

I know.

They got married a few months later. And the rest, as they say, is history. Roll credits.

Can you believe it? The romance! Where is that romance nowadays? Where, I say??? At least there's comfort in knowing that even if it might not exist anymore, somewhere, sometime, somebody got a movie-worthy love story. And I am so happy I know those somebodys.

Happy first date anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa!

RIP MJ

"If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make a change." - Man in the Mirror, Michael Jackson

25 more things

Does this get us to 100? I don't remember. And it doesn't matter, anyway. I like making lists.

Oh, and before we start: I got the part-time job! Today was my first day and I had no idea what I was doing but I had a good time doing it. Except my feet kind of hurt from standing up the whole time. Overall, a good day, though.

Ok. Here we go:

1. People who treat their pets like their kids annoy the shit out of me.
2. If I'm in a bad mood, buying school supplies will instantly improve it.
3. The two new spiral notebooks I bought two days ago are dedicated to the screenplay writing.
4. I've bought and eaten a watermelon every week for the past month. By myself.
5. I don't mean this the way it's going to sound, but every once in a while it would be nice to be the center of attention.
6. Screw the Lakers.
7. But don't screw L.A., because that's where they make the movies.
8. Screw the Mavericks, while we're at it.
9. I get a 20% discount at my new job. That is dangerous business.
10. (Because everything I want to buy is really expensive. Damn budget.)
11. The first thing I notice about the opposite sex? Height.
12. The second? Teeth.
13. Sometimes, you just want to eat a hot dog.
14. According to my 4-yr-old nephew, "macaroni and cheese and hot dogs is a delicious meal." (He is clearly wise beyond his years.)
15. I am so ready to go to the beach it isn't even funny.
16. Most of the time I do my workout DVDs barefoot. That's probably bad.
17. I've slept with the closet light on ever since I woke up with a roach crawling on my arm two weeks ago.
18. Josh Duhamel is way too hot to be married to that girl from the Black Eyed Peas.
19. It makes me very sad that they've wrapped filming on the last Harry Potter movies.
20. On that same note, I really want to go to the new Potter theme park.
21. I haven't done karakoe in a while. That might have to happen soon.
22. I am awesome at the Kevin Bacon game.
23. I have the best greeting card ever, ready and waiting to be sent to the next person I know who needs to be cheered up.
24. Twenty-minute workouts don't sound like they'd be bad... unless Jillian Michaels is the one working you out. Bitch.
25. And now, I'm off to "shred" with Jillian...

What we've learned from horror movies

We played this game at work where we listed all the ways to not get dead, based solely on the education that horror movies offer. I now bring the game to you.

1. Don't be a minority.
2. Don't be a virgin.
3. Stay away from the docks.
4. The super creepy grounds keeper? He's on your side. And yet, you'll probably get him killed.
5. The sexy guy in a suit? He will kill you.
6. Always wear matching bras and panties, because you will most likely be wearing only those two garments when you're running through the woods.
7. For God's sake, if you have to run through the woods, at least kick off the stilettos first.
8. You know what? Just have sneakers on at all times. Even if you're only wearing a bra and panties.
9. Don't take a drive in rural Texas. There is nothing to see.
10. Don't ask to borrow someone's phone.
11. Don't be the quarterback.
12. Be single. If you're in a relationship, one or the other of you isn't going to make it.
13. Never say "I'll be right back." That's how you end up decapitated by a garage door.
14. Seances are not a good idea. Ever.
15. Superglue your car keys to your hand. None of this fumbling-in-the-dark-and-inevitably-dropping business.
16. Oh, but if you've left your car unattended... it will not start.
17. Don't seek shelter in the barn. Or slaughter house. Or shrimp boat.
18. Screaming makes no difference. Save your energy.
19. Always wear waterproof mascara.

and above all else

20. Whatever you do, do not... REPEAT, DO NOT... open the portals of Hell.

We'll always have Paris.

Worst way to wake up ever

Have I mentioned how much I hate bugs? LOATHE them, actually. And the worst bug that ever lived? The cockroach.

Ugh. Just typing that made me shudder.

And now I will give all of you (the 10 of you who read this) the heeby-jeebies with the story of how I woke up Sunday morning.

At about 4:30 a.m., I felt something on my arm. Something kind of poking my arm. I wiggled my arm, and the pokey thing moved. Still half asleep, I slapped at my arm with my other hand and flung the sheets off me and jumped out of bed. I turned the lamp on, squinted around, and saw nothing. I pulled my sheets back and shook them, but nothing was there.

I started to wonder if I'd dreamt the thing I felt, but I was sure I had not. I took the opportunity to go the bathroom, and when I walked back into my bedroom, something flew past me and landed behind the trash can next to my dresser.

"Alright, motherfucker."

With that announcement, I went into the other room and got my roach spray. As I was walking back into the bedroom, the little bastard ran out from behind the trash can towards me. I sprayed, and it kept running. I spray-chased it into the bathroom, where it finally hit the wall and flipped over.

A brown one. About two inches long. Disgusting.

It writhed for a while and then got still. They do that to psyche you out and make you think they are dead when they are not. No, I have a roach-killing process:

1. Spray it again. Just for good measure.
2. Get a section of newspaper. (Glad to know it's still good for something.)
3. Throw the newspaper on top of the roach.
4. Put on a sneaker.
5. Stomp the shit out of the roach. You must hear a crunch for initial squishing confirmation. You must lift the paper and see guts poking out of its ass (those are actually its brains. I've done research) for second and final squishing confirmation.
6. Use the newspaper to scoop up the squished little bastard and then flush it.

Oh yes, it's dead and gone. But now, of course, I am on high alert. I couldn't go back to sleep after that because I just knew there were more lurking around. I didn't even get back in bed. I propped myself on the coach with the spray and sneaker where I could reach them and managed to doze off eventually.

And I'm afraid to go to sleep tonight, too. I mean, I guess it's a good thing that I'm aware enough in my sleep to know when something is crawling on me... but no. I don't want to wake up like that again. I felt violated.

The apartment office is getting a call first thing Monday morning to have someone come out and spray. Warning to all bugs, but most especially roaches: You come into this house, you are dead.