Saying Goodbye to Oma

After receiving that most unpleasant of calls texts last week informing us of Oma's passing, we quickly began planning on getting back to El Paso, TX for her funeral.

On the one hand, it was an escape from the quotidian, which, I'm sure, is why Livie and I felt a little seed of excitement upon getting those e-mails confirming our air travel plans and our lodging confirmation.

We couldn't escape, though, the sad reason we were traveling in the first place: Oma's funeral.

We'd arrived in El Paso late in the afternoon on Saturday the 9th. The viewing was on Monday the 11th, and the funeral was on Tuesday the 12th.

The funeral seemed a bit harder than usual for me as it was on my birthday. What timing, right? (It couldn't have been helped, though.) However, my youngest brother and I had a brief discussion that it was almost like it was meant to be - one last birthday "together" in El Paso, if that makes any sense. There was a definite sense of saudade surrounding this trip, due to the circumstances, as well as having been a number of years since we'd been "home." 

The funeral was on a sunny, somewhat breezy Tuesday morning in El Paso, at St. Pius X church, on the corner of Geronimo and North Clark, where, I believe, I'd gone to services once or twice, long ago with my grandparents. It definitely looked familiar.

We'd intentionally picked out a pretty purple "party" dress for Liv, so she could "celebrate" the life and memory of her great-grandmother. They were so attached to each other, spending hours together talking and playing (meaning Liv played and Oma watched).


After the funeral, we headed to Ft. Bliss National Cemetary, where my grandfather (and Uncle Hector) are buried.

This is the plot which my grandmother now shares with my grandfather. The headstone is not there, temporarily, as the engraving for my grandmother is being added. Instead, the flowers from the funeral mark the location (along with a small informational tag at the head). 

I am so glad that the mountains near their former home are in the background overlooking the cemetery.

And, of course, I had to visit my uncle's spot. I hadn't been here, yet.

On Monday morning/early afternoon, a few hours before the viewing/Vigil (the "wake'), we drove past my grandparents' former house, since we had some time. It didn't feel right not driving past.

Plus, the last time Liv had been there, she had only been about one and a half years old, so she really didn't remember what it looked like, aside from having looked at photos. I wanted to make sure she'd remember it because she saw it in person.

The intersection: we had to turn off of Alabama onto Mountain Walk Drive. It's the only way to get to their house.

Driving west on Mountain Walk Drive, that old, familiar street.

And here's where they used to live. The main difference is that I noticed is that the ivy on the house's exterior has been removed. Oh, and the satellite dish.

It was a difficult reason for heading back "home" to the Southwest, but it also felt "right," if that makes sense. I've had such a longing or saudade for the Southwest, it was definitely a return "home," regardless of the circumstances. It was good (but sad), and necessary.

I'll Be Home for Christmas . . .

if only in my dreams . . .

I heard that song yesterday, and I was suddenly very, very homesick for the Southwest - namely, my grandparents' home in El Paso, TX as well as the cozy, too brief home in Alamogordo, NM (we'd lived there only one year), where Livie celebrated her very first Christmas.


(Frank Sinatra's version off YouTube)


And then when Livie and I were at our favorite pizza place in town last night, I heard a song originally sung by Michael Bublé - Home - but this version I heard last night was sung by a country star, featuring Michael Bublé (I later learned the country star was Blake Shelton).



 (Blake Shelton's version off YouTube)

When this song came on, I was so overwhelmed by such a strong sense of saudade (a Portuguese word that captures a sense of homesickness, nostalgia, or a longing for something or someone absent - but without much chance of return) and a longing for being back "home," in the Southwest, where my family is from . . . and where I lived for a time (having been stationed in the Southwest twice while in the military). I almost cried, I was so homesick.

See, the first time I'd heard the song Home, was in New Mexico, the day Livie and I had moved into our house in July 2006, and I was busy unpacking while listening to the radio. Andrew was deployed in the Middle East at the time, and wouldn't be home for another three months. I was missing him, worried about him, and trying to keep busy with setting up the new home.

And I'd heard that song a number of times during that year of living in New Mexico.

So every time I hear this song, I think of that home, the desolate beauty of the desert, and the very first Christmas with Livie (meaning: the very first time I got to be "magic" by playing Santa).

As I sat there watching Livie color while we waited for our pizza, I couldn't believe how hard the saudade had hit me, especially since we've been here in Iowa for a few years now and have our "new" Christmas traditions pretty firmly established (including eating a very New Mexican posole for Christmas Eve).

Although the saudade faded by the end of the evening - for the most part, anyway - I still had a vestige of it lasting through the night, and into this morning, causing me to look through some old photos from our New Mexican Christmas:

The tree, night before Christmas

Arch decoration, night before Christmas

Sacramento Mountains, Alamogordo, NM

These photos will have to do as I get my Southwest fix from afar. (Too bad I don't have a photo of my grandparents' place at Christmas time - that would've been priceless).

In the meantime, I'm biding my time before I get to play Santa, once again (it's fun and I enjoy it a lot). Just a few more days, though, right? Livie and I get to do a bunch of things before "Santa" delivers presents under the tree: making posole for Christmas dinner, making cookies for Santa (yummy!!), and packing for our trip to Liv's grandparents' place on Christmas Day.

Arizona Memories

I was thinking about and missing living in Tucson, AZ recently (and feeling that familiar, old saudade again). So I looked through some old photos and decided to share a couple. (I'm pretty sure I haven't shared either of these two before.)

These were both taken in the wintertime. I think they were on different days, yet both days happened to both be unusually cloudy (or partly so); Tucson has, probably, close to 300 days of sunshine per year. 

These were taken in either late January or early February 2000, when I'd gone out to explore the beautiful scenery in the relative "coolness" of winter.

I love the saguaro cactus "sentries" in the first photo.

Saguaro National Park, western

Near Sabino Canyon

So truly an "Under the Desert Sky" post today.

Remembering a Different Home

Normally, if I feel a little homesick (or have a feeling of saudade), it's for New Mexico (or El Paso, TX, or even Tucson . . . but generally somewhere in the Southwest).

But lately, I've been kind of missing my other home, Chicagoland. See, I went to college in Chicagoland - Lake Forest College (in Lake Forest, Il, to be exact). And before I joined the Air Force, I worked as a Certified Legal Assistant in Chicagoland (in Deerfield, IL) and lived in Chicagoland (Arlington Heights, IL, about 8-9 miles from where I worked). So I lived in the Chicago area for a number of years.

There's so much to do in a metropolitan area like Chicagoland. There are plenty of sports related activities, like my being able to go to Chicago Blackhawks games (my favorite NHL team). My brother and I would go to a home game together at the United Center at least once a season - the 'Hawks, a beer, nachos, and good company - you couldn't get a better type of fun than that. Plus Chicago has two MLB teams, an NFL team, and a MLS team. Of course, Chicago has plenty of cultural activities, too - the Art Institute, the Shedd Aquarium, opera, theater, various concerts. And restaurants - think of a type of food . . . Spanish tapas, Italian, deep dish pizza, steak . . . you name it, Chicago has it.
 
Andrew and I also got married in Chicago, in December, when the air was crisp and cold, Christmas-y lights were twinkling, and there was a hint of snow in the air and that special holiday buzz surrounding us.

(Oh, and here's a little-known tidbit: the best driver's license photo I ever had was for my Illinois license, when I'd renewed it in December 2002.)

So as you can see, there is something special to me about Chicago.

But I'm sure you're wondering what got me on a "I miss Chicago" kick.

It was a dog.

A dog? 

Yes, a dog.

Not a canine.

A dog.

A hot dog.

A hot dog?

Yep. A Chicago dog.

Poppy seed bun, hot dog, mustard (and NEVER ketchup!!!), sweet relish, dill pickle spear, tomato wedges, sport peppers, and a bit of celery salt.

There's a hot dog place near us that opened within the last year here in east-central Iowa. We'd never been there, but had noticed they advertised Chicago-style hot dogs. So this past weekend, out of curiosity, Andrew decided to go get some Chicago-style hot dogs, just to see how they stacked up to the real thing.

The dog (and a beer), via Instagram app on my iPhone.

(No, that's not the exact color . . . I tried giving it a little bit of an artsy look to it with the Instagram app.)

Well, it was pretty good - good enough to satisfy the Chicago dog craving. But it made me miss stopping at the hot dog stand I used to get my Chicago dogs from, when I was in the city - a little place called Hot Diggity Dog on Ohio St (off of . . . um . . . Fairbanks, I think?), where they had the BEST chocolate malts.

And that's what made me start reminiscing about all the other things I missed about Chicago (driving Lake Shore Drive at night, going for a run at the lake, the IMAX at Navy Pier, etc.) . . . and, well, there you go.

Homesick, Again

In my classes at the University of Iowa, we're at various stages of talking about native peoples of the American Southwest. Well, as some of you may know, I used to live in the Southwest (El Paso, Tucson, Alamogordo). So it's nice to read about the area. It's almost like I'm going back there mentally at a time I'm not able to go back physically.

Anyway, we've been having typical late winter weather here in Iowa, meaning Mother Nature is being fickle - one day giving us sleet, freezing rain, high winds, overcast skies, and the next, teasing us with one day of clear, blue skies and sunshine . . . only to go back to multiple days back-to-back of oppressively gray clouds.

It's days like this, with a lack of sunshine, our natural source of Vitamin D, that I begin to miss the Southwest. I was really homesick earlier this morning, having seated myself at my desk (supposedly to do homework), seeing my framed photo of "UH" (my Uncle Hector from Albuquerque) and Livie in my grandparents' house in El Paso, and another photo of White Sands in southern New Mexico.

I was so homesick, I could close my eyes and almost visualize sitting in my grandparents' home in El Paso, or my own home in Alamogordo, looking at the mountain ranges displaying various shades of copper, reds, oranges, milk chocolate, the sky an intense blue (and at dusk, purples, raspberry pink, blues, black). 

And - eyes closed - I could almost smell the desert - the dryness, the piñon, that distinct wet mineral scent (mixed with creosote and other desert flora) that the land emits after a brief rain.

Opening my eyes, I had an intense feeling of saudade - a Portuguese word, hard to translate - meaning something along the lines of a fondness and longing for something that you know you probably can't reclaim, or some similar such place to which return is unlikely.

While I'm sure I'll be able to visit the Southwest at some point on vacation (which I'm sure I'll greatly appreciate), I'll always feel a tiny bit of saudade because it won't be to my grandparents' home, or the home in which Livie, Andrew, and I lived when we were stationed in Alamogordo.

Anyway, I guess that's enough boo-hooing over my dislike of multiple days of overcast skies. 

So I'll end with a couple photos of my backyard in New Mexico, taken the day we moved in. It had been a bright, sunny day, that day I'd gotten the keys. But within an hour of being at the house, I noticed clouds moving toward us from over the Sacramento Mountains.

The next thing I knew (maybe within 15-20 minutes?), these stormy looking clouds were right over the mountains, and it looked like it was raining hard.

The rains never made it to our backyard. The storm dissipated, clouds dispersing into thin air in that space between the mountains and the backyard.

Gloomy Skies and Moods

Okay, I love four seasons. I love snow. I can't stand heat and humidity (I can, however, deal with dry heat when the humidity's low - like in Tucson, El Paso, or Las Cruces).

When we had unusually sunny, warm weather here in east central Iowa, I missed the snow, but certainly enjoyed the sunshine. It reminded me of how winters are in the Southwest - sunny! In Alamogordo, it's not uncommon to have somewhere around 300 sunny days per year. That's like 10 months' worth of sunshine per year!

So in moving back to the Midwest in 2008 (having lived for a number of years in the Chicagoland area, as well as having gone to school for 4 years in NW Indiana), I quickly remembered how gloomy it gets (and stays!) when it's overcast. And how long it seems to be completely overcast - days and days (weeks on end, seemingly) without a break in the clouds - without the smallest hint of the sun. 

Now the Midwest has it's good points. I'm not bashing the Midwest.

It's just that this time of year, I start getting homesick for "home" - for the Southwest. My grandparents were from the Southwest. My mom and uncles were born and raised in the Southwest. I've lived in the Southwest for part of my life. And while I loved many things about living in the Chicago area (and have grown fond of a number of things about Iowa), I think there must be a little part of me that belongs in the Southwest (or belongs to the Southwest).

And the overcast days without promise of sunshine . . . well, they just makes me miss the Southwest - the sunshine, the "perfume" the dry desert air gives off after a rainstorm (by the way, it never stays cloudy for long), as well as the familiar, distinct scents of creosote and piñon trees, the ease of finding good, local food (the kinds I always crave - Mexican, Tex-Mex, Southwestern). Well, the overcast gloom and its resulting saudade for the Southwest make me wonder if I should invest in one of those S.A.D. (seasonal affective disorder) lights! 

In the meantime, I'll just look through old photos for a temporary New Mexico fix!

31 December 2006 - the view from our backyard in Alamogordo, NM.

Another New Mexico Memory

Alright, I've been having some real saudade (Portuguese for a sort of longing, homesickness) for New Mexico lately. So while I'm taking a study break, I think I'll post another photo:

The Valley of Fire, off Hwy 54 in New Mexico.

This was taken a few days after Andrew got back from his deployment. My mom had offered to take care of Livie for about 24 hours, so Andrew and I could head up to Santa Fe for a night. This was somewhere off Highway 54, I think, somewhere just north of Alamogordo (where we lived). It's called the Valley of Fire. I guess it was made from lava long ago. I remember having driven for a while before coming across this area . . . maybe an hour or so after we'd left home.

Oh, How I Miss New Mexico

On US 54 North, somewhere in between El Paso, TX and Alamogordo, NM

I happened to find this photo over the weekend. I took it (through the window of the moving car as Andrew drove) while Andrew, Livie, and I still lived in New Mexico. We were heading back from my grandparents' house in El Paso, TX. I think this was approximately halfway between El Paso and Alamogordo. This was one of a few "cloudy" days we had in the Southwest - and I think it may have even been raining waaaaay off in the distance. (Alamogordo, on average, enjoys approximately 330 days of sunshine per year!)

It's days like this (when I unexpectedly come across a forgotten New Mexican photo) that I really miss New Mexico . . . that I feel saudade for my former home. (For those of you new to my blog, saudade is a Portuguese word roughly meaning: longing, yearning, homesickness, nostalgia, wishing for something that may possibly never be obtained again. Click here for the Wikipedia definition.)

Ahh, well. I will get back there one day - even if it is just to visit. And in the meantime, I know this: while I may have left New Mexico, New Mexico has not left me.

A Few of my Favorite Things for This Time of Year

1. The smell of sweet treats baking in the oven
2. Eating sweet treats
3. Glistening snow - the way it looks like it's encrusted with bling:

Not the best photo (it was taken from behind a closed window in my family room) - if you click on it, I think the sparkles show up better. 

4. The way the snow crunches underneath my feet as I walk on it

5. Cool Cold weather, and bundling up in warm, cozy clothing (sweaters or sweatshirts, scarves, mittens, etc), and not having to complain about hot, humid, sticky, sweaty weather

6. Going outside in the cold, and being able to come back inside for some hot chocolate

7. Christmas decorations:

8. The Southwest at this time of year:

Postcard entitled "Farolitos at Twilight." Photo © 1996 Bill Bonebrake

9. New Mexican posole

10. Tamales

11. Candy canes, peppermint ice cream, and peppermint-flavored cocktails

12. The smell of wood-burning fireplaces (especially when they burn apple wood or some other good-smelling wood)

And yes, now I'm feeling saudade for the Southwest . . .

Hey, I remember that hat!

Last year, my uncle Hector was in Iowa visiting over the holidays. He, Andrew, and I went to the mall one afternoon, a place I can't stand visiting this time of year, even if it is the really nice one (Jordan Creek Town Center in West Des Moines). 

I can't remember why we ended up at the mall, but there we were and in we walked. Even though it was really crazy, as nearly all malls are during the holidays, we had fun spending some time together.

We happened to be on the second floor of Jordan Creek at one point and passed by the Whipp Trading Company kiosk. They've got these great, fuzzy, warm items for sale there - moccasins, slippers, hats, mittens, stuff like that. My brother Joe once got me the BEST mittens from there. I still have them; they are SO warm, by the way.

Anyway, my uncle had recently bought a "trooper hat" which we'd actually been calling a "Russian" hat - something like this Soviet Ushanka type hat (just click on the link to see the photo). He wanted something to keep him warm outside during an Albuquerque winter and he figured one of these "Russian" hats would do the trick, right?

Well, just days after buying his from somewhere else (I forget where), we were walking in the mall and see the Whipp Trading Company's "sheepskin trooper hats" looking super warm. While agreeing that this hat would keep him warm in the harshest Iowa winter, he decided he'd just go ahead and keep the hat he'd recently bought, because, well . . . Albuquerque's worst winter weather probably wouldn't be quite so bad as what Iowa dished out.

That, and he'd already cut the tag off the one he just bought.

I was thinking of that hat because last weekend, Andrew, Livie, and I passed the same Whipp Trading Company kiosk, and those same hats. It made me think of my uncle. And now that the sunlight is casting its weak golden light into long shadows, I was getting that old, familiar saudade feeling again. No better time to reminisce than when saudade hits, right?

Anyway, since I paraphrased a line from the movie Desperado earlier in this post, I thought I'd end with one of the movie's songs, one that my uncle liked singing along with - the opening song where Antonio Banderas is playing the guitar and singing.

A few more "old" photos from "the archive"

I was searching for some photos for a Memory Lane Friday post a few weeks ago, and found some "old" photos from the '90s and early '00s. They're not the best quality, but they're good enough. 

Here they are . . .

Sir Rafa's in the van. I'm getting ready to drive us somewhere. Breakfast? The zoo? I don't remember.

Uncle Hector and Oma (as she's making her "Ugh" face) at the El Paso Zoo.

The Uncle and Sir Rafa, again, at the zoo.

A mountain view of El Paso, as seen from one of the shoppettes at Ft. Bliss (it's the one near the fitness center - as a matter of fact, you can see the outdoor track's bleachers in the center of the photo).

Andrew's "paying his respects" to Mr. Sniffer the West Highland White Terrier's "final resting place."

My grandparents' wonderful backyard on Mountain Walk Drive.

Ah, saudade . . .  you always seem to find me, somehow. That's okay, saudade; I suppose an occasional visit is normal. Until next time, ate logu.

Hello again, Saudade!

I've really been missing Tucson and the Southwest, lately. Saudade has hit full-force. Just feeling a bit "homesick," I guess.

Anyway, here are a few photos I found recently, from back when I lived in Tucson. 

Thunderstorm in Tucson, circa September 2001:

Storm over Tucson and saguaros, circa November 2001:

Tucson, circa summer 2000:

2010 Marion Arts Festival

This past Saturday, we headed to Marion's City Square Park to enjoy some art created by artists from across the country. We went to the 2010 Marion Arts festival. I guess this is something that has been going on for nearly two decades!

Fortunately, it was a nice, cool, mostly cloudy day, so the weather helped make the festival enjoyable.

There were two artist there who were from New Mexico! One was a painter and the other was a printmaker from Albuquerque. Both happened to have crows in their artwork. I don't know if that's "coincidence" or not, but I've been feeling saudade for New Mexico, and have had a dream or two about crows lately. Good ol' Joe Leaphorn, the "Legendary Lieutenant" of Tony Hillerman's books doesn't believe in coincidence, so maybe the crows are trying to give me a message.

But enough of that . . . and back to the festival. It was a lot of fun, and Livie enjoyed the "party" with all the crowds, the scents of tasty food wafting through the air, the great artwork, and the drum line, that made her get out of the BOB and dance around.

We even bought a small photo of some red chiles, as a reminder of how we enjoyed New Mexico so much. But the photographer? This particular artist was actually from Wisconsin! Imagine that! He had great artwork, which is why we were so impressed with his chile photo so reminding us of our beloved Southwest.

Lots of crowds pack into Marion's City Square Park to view all the great artwork by artists from all over.

Livie's enjoying a hot dog nearly as big as she is!

Liv hears the drum line and has to dance around!

There she goes! She actually told Daddy (a trumpeter), "Trumpets and brass are good, but the drum line is COOL!"

She's hopping away to the drum line's beat!

I couldn't afford the beautiful ceramics, so I took a picture.

Memory Lane Friday - The Foods I Loved

Today's Memory Lane Friday topic is "The Foods I Loved" and you know I'm going to have to talk about my Oma and her cooking. Her cooking is what I always consider "comfort food." Her food is what I always crave when I want something good. If I need Mexican food, hers is what satisfies the craving. As a matter of fact, Oma's cooking is what I craved when I was pregnant with Liv. Oma's cooking and tamales.

Oma has always had this amazing cooking. It was always homemade. It didn't matter if it was breakfast or dinner. 

But since breakfast is the first meal of the day, I will begin with a typical Oma breakfast. I am salivating, just thinking about it. She used to make huevos con chorizo for us sometimes - once a week, or sometimes even twice a week. Or more, if we asked her for it.

She had these great flour tortillas that she'd warm up on this round cast-iron thing on top of the gas burner. You could smell the flour tortillas warming up, with a warm, cozy, bready, flour-y scent wafting through the air. And the chorizo? It was the Mexican type, not the Spanish or Portuguese type (which was more of a hard salami type of sausage). The chorizo she used would come out of the casing before being cooked, and as it browned, would crumble like ground beef. It was the Peyton brand chorizo that apparently is only available in West Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and a handful of military commissaries (which included Hanscom Air Force Base, where Andrew and I were stationed for 4 years).

And then you'd hear the sssssss of the chorizo links as they sizzled and browned in the skillet. This is when it started smelling divine. Mmmmm. Spicy (like cumin, not burn-your-mouth-with-chiles spicy), sausage-like, and mouth-watering.

While the chorizo was browning, you'd hear the tsk-tsk-tsk of Oma's fork as she whisked the eggs in a bowl. As soon as the chorizo was browned just right, she'd pour the whisked eggs into the skillet over the chorizo and begin to scramble them all together.

And then it was all ready. A heap of huevos con chorizo on your plate, flour tortilla folded in half on the side of the plate. Fork in hand, I remember scooping the huevos con chorizo into the unfolded, warmed flour tortilla, rolling it up into a burrito, and then taking a bite. Mmmmm. It was eggy, full-flavored (because of the chorizo), and full of carbs (the tortilla) to balance out the protein (and fat) from the eggs and chorizo.

This was pure breakfast heaven. And now I'm very hungry.

When I lived in Tucson and New Mexico (and when I realized I could get the same chorizo at the commissary in the Boston area),  I'd make huevos con chorizo, too. Sure, I watched her make this dish, and it tasted basically the same, but hers was always better. I think it's because, as she always says, she "made it with a lot of love."

Then there was lunch or dinner. She used to make cheese enchiladas on occasion, and while I loved her red sauce for its rich flavor and thought that her enchiladas were tasty, I found that they were a little heavy on the chopped onion (which she always kind of rough chopped - the onions were never really chopped finely enough) and I'd get heartburn. It was weird. I could always handle spicy food, but too much onion? My stomach and esophagus couldn't handle it.

My favorite lunch or dinner menu in Oma's repertoire? Homemade tacos and homemade beans. She told me step by step how to make her tacos, and while I tried to make them on occasion, they NEVER came out right. I'm not sure I had the technique just right.

Oma would brown ground beef, season them just right (salt, pepper, cumin), saute them with diced potatoes, and then stuff the mixture into corn tortillas (fried briefly in oil and then folded while still warm and malleable). At least, this is what I remember.

After assembling a bunch of tacos and setting them on a cookie sheet lined with foil, she'd stick them in the oven for a little while to make sure they were all warmed and hot enough to eat.

And the beans? Mmmm.

Making her world-famous beans was a process. Not hard - just time-consuming. She'd soak pinto beans overnight. The next day, she'd cook them in water seasoned with garlic salt and onion powder. When they were soft, she'd drain some water, saving some so that when she mashed the beans, they wouldn't get dried out. Then she'd brown some chorizo in a big skillet. When it was browned, she'd add the mashed beans and cook them all together so the flavors would blend. And then she'd add shredded Monterrey Jack cheese on the top.

Two or three tacos topped with shredded Monterrey Jack cheese, tomatoes, shredded lettuce, and a side of her world-famous beans. Oh, and her delicious rice. I have now idea how to make that. Note to self: get her rice recipe from her next time I see her.

So there it is. There are the the foods I loved growing up . . . and the foods I still love. And now I am hungry.

Okay, so I don't have any photos of my Oma while she's actually cooking something. But I have a number of photos of her, so I'm going to add a few here:
 

This photo was taken way before my time, but here's my Oma when she was a young woman.

Here's Oma at the Blue Ridge Circle house. This must've been in the early '70s - maybe '73?

My Uncle H. used to say this was Oma's "Ann Landers hairstyle." By the way, I don't know why/how the couch turned out that funky maroon color in the photo (it was actually an olive green), and how Oma's dress turned into such a vibrant purple. Ah, well. At least it's a great photo of her smiling.

So here I am with my Oma and Sir Rafa. We're not in El Paso, but we're together. I believe they were visiting us when we lived in Wilmette, IL.

Here's Oma and baby Livie in Oma's kitchen. This is in the beloved Mountain Walk Drive home in El Paso.

Please click on the box below to read this week's other Memory Lane Friday entries:

After checking out today's other entries, be sure to come back next week when the Memory Lane Friday topic is "A Ceremony."

Land of Sunshine and Turquoise Skies

Patricia reminded me of Mesilla, NM today. And since we've had overcast, gloomy, threatening-to-rain weather here today in the land of green grass in east-central Iowa, I figured I'd reminisce a little about my time in Mesilla and all the sunshine the southwest gets.

There's a small sense of saudade today, but it's not too noticeable, and not too uncomfortable or sad. Why? I dunno. Maybe it's because it's gloomy out, and not that golden sunlight at sunset that always seems to make me miss my family, New Mexico, the Southwest - that sunlight I always associate with homesickness. 

Anyway . . . I can't remember the first time I went to Old Mesilla; it had to have been with my grandparents.

I do, however, remember visiting Mesilla a few times when I was old enough to remember (in high school and college) - once with my grandparents, U.H., maybe my parents and siblings . . . another time with my grandparents, Naná, and her grandson. I'm pretty sure there were other times with my grandparents and Naná, again, and Aunt Lily.

They always liked going to the Double Eagle restaurant for lunch, but on occasion, I got them to go to La Posta for lunch, instead. Probably because there was too long a wait at the Double Eagle.

Then there was the first time with Andrew, when we were stationed in the Greater Boston area, and had visited my grandparents in El Paso for Easter. Andrew and I wanted to take my grandparents, but they insisted they were going to stay home and take a nap. So Andrew and I went by ourselves.

I remember taking our time browsing around, checking out the Basilica of San Albino, looking through the little stores around the plaza, getting a treat from Stahmanns Pecans (and some to take back to Oma and Sir Rafa), and getting some wine from a local winery (I think it was a margarita-flavored wine).


After that first trip Andrew and I took at Easter, we ended up going each year at Easter time - while we were stationed in the Boston area before Livie was born, that is.

Here are just a few photos from our April 2004 trip:

Andrew's in front of the Basilica of San Albino.

Andrew's in the plaza, next to the sign telling of Mesilla's history.

Here he is, posing in the plaza.

Here's Mesilla's post office.

And again, here is the Basilica of San Albino.

And then when we were stationed in Alamogordo, NM, we were so close, that there was no reason not to visit. But Andrew was deployed the first few months Livie and I were there, and I wasn't in the mood to take a baby to Mesilla by myself. 

So I used the time Andrew was deployed to take Livie to El Paso so she could visit her bisabuelos - her great-grandparents.

But the last weekend the three of us spent in New Mexico before moving to Iowa (August 2007) - we spent a lot of time in Mesilla and El Paso. It was so hot. Wow, was it ever hot. And I'm certainly glad there was very little humidity!

There was some sort of arts festival going on around the plaza. I'd ended up buying a couple artsy photos (one of Mesilla and one of Tucson) before we headed indoors to eat lunch at La Posta. The restaurant's cool air was refreshing. But Livie's face remained flushed for most of the day!

We're checking out San Albino.

We're taking a photo opportunity in the plaza.

We're waiting for lunch at La Posta.

Liv loved the parrots they had in there, as well as the fish tank.

Of course, the lights on the trees were a big hit with her, too.

I don't remember exactly where in Mesilla this photo was taken.I'm thinking it's outside near La Posta.

Lounging in the guest bedroom at Oma's house, we're cooling off from our adventure in Mesilla. Yes, I had to change Livie's outfit for one reason or another.

I'm glad I can say that Livie has been to Mesilla, though she was too little to remember. Maybe one day we'll get there again. Because I was enchanted by the Land of Enchantment, and to some extent, so was Andrew. It would be nice to give Livie the opportunity to love the land that I feel is "home" - the Southwest.