Three of My Winter Essentials

The past few days, Liv and I have had an icy walk to and from school. Even though I've salted my driveway and the sidewalk in front of our house, the city has sanded the streets, and the school has salted their walkways, there are still icy spots that are unavoidable.

Especially at the corner where Liv and I (as well as lots of other students) cross. This particular corner's at a somewhat low area where water naturally pools. So when we have weather just warm enough to start melting ice and snow, water pools at this corner. Then it gets below freezing, and that (seemingly giant) pool of water freezes up like an ice skating rink. It makes crossing the street a bit hazardous. We don't want to slip and fall, especially since it's at the corner - I'm always worried that either Liv or I (or another kid) will slip into oncoming traffic.

That got me to thinking about the winter weather gear that I'm glad I have.

Quite a few years ago - it must've been when I was in college and was home visiting at Christmastime - my brother Joe and I were at our local mall. He didn't have a car/ride and wanted to head to the mall to pick up some gifts; I was more than willing to go with him. I liked spending time with my brothers, and if that meant taking one of them to the mall, I was all for it.

Well, we'd walked past one of those kiosks that sells all those toasty warm shearling products. I tried on a pair of mittens and said I loved them and would have to come back another time to get them. (I don't remember why I wasn't going to get them right then.) As we walked along and Joe made a purchase for our youngest brother, Alex, and maybe another purchase for somebody else, he decided he had to go the the men's room.

Right.

He came back grinning, and I somehow noticed that he was hiding attempting to hide an extra bag among the other bags he already had. He ended up saying something like, "If you were to get those mittens you liked, you would pick the small ones and not the mediums, right?"

"Yep."

"Good."

Fast forward to Christmas day.

He'd gotten me those mittens. And I still have them, as evidenced by the photo above. They are SO WARM.

I'd used them a LOT (except for skiing/sledding, because I'd go with mittens that are a bit more water repellant), and they went with me wherever I moved - although when I was stationed in Tucson, AZ, they remained in a box of winter weather gear (like my snow parka and winter boots).

When Andrew and I ended up being stationed in Boston, and I knew I'd need these mittens at some point, I actually couldn't find them! They were lost! So Andrew, upon finding a similar pair at a similar kiosk at our "new" local mall, bought me a new pair.

The original mittens that Joe had gotten me were in that winter weather gear box and it had been temporarily lost on our household goods' journey between Tucson and the Boston area. I was glad the box finally showed up, though unfortunately, another couple boxes were lost for good.

Anyway, these mittens are perfect for those low wind-chill days when I'm walking Livie to and from school!

My other favorite winter gear invention: YakTrax.

These are things you put on your shoes that help you maintain traction as you walk on icy or otherwise slick paths, kinda like tire chains for tires. A few years ago, I'd bought a pair of the "walking" variety. They're thick rubber "webs" with metal coils that go on the bottoms of your shoes. They really help reduce all the sliding around you do on icy surfaces.

That's my very poor, poor quality photo of what they look like. (Yes, it's gunky out there with the sand and the salt and the gunk.) You can see a better pic of one here.

I actually meant to wear these one morning when I ran outside while visiting my parents over the holdiays (treadmills get boring FAST in the wintertime). But I hadn't realized that Andrew had brought them inside; I thought they were in my car. So when I got to the trail head, they weren't there. But I went running anyway, and slipped on a nasty patch of ice, wrenching my right foot and aggravating the just-about-completely healed tendonitis. I took a couple weeks off, and that morphed into a couple more weeks off and. . . well, I need to get back to running. I'm just about out of the habit.

Anyway, my third favorite winter thing?

My peppermint mug. Usually used for coffee, and occasionally for hot chocolate. I use it mostly in the winter, because it seems like it's a wintery themed mug, right?

Anybody else have winter gear you just can't live without?

Coffee Coffee Coffee!!

Here's the way to start an important day - Mother's Day:

Coffee in the Area 51 mug! (Daddy, not Livie, made it!)

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!

(If you're interested, click here for my 2011 Mother's Day tribute. And click here for the 2010 tribute.)

Spring Break Adventures Part III

Okay, here are the final photos from our spring break trip.

Monday evening included dinner at P.F. Chang's. Yummo. (I had an "Asian Pear Mojito" with my Chang's Spicy Chicken - both were delish!!) Liv had the kids' chicken with "sweet and sour" dipping sauce and a Shirley Temple beverage (the first time she'd ever had one). She loved that it was fizzy and pink!

Monday evening, Abuelita and Livie pose with the big P.F. Chang horse.

Tuesday morning included breakfast with Abuelita at the Cracker Barrel. It was Livie's idea to go here, and we appreciated the good idea. Livie had blueberry pancakes, while Abuelita and I each had pecan pancakes.

Before we'd left, Livie insisted on looking through the store. She'd ended up begging me for a stuffed animal lamb. Since she has a TON of stuffed animals at home, I'd said "no, not this time." She then asked me to take a picture of the particular lamb she'd wanted since she couldn't take the actual toy with her.

Here's the photo she wanted, since she wasn't able to get the actual stuffed animal.

Back to the house we went so we could gather our things and say goodbye before hitting the road.

Livie poses with her grandmother and great-grandmother before we left.

Of course, since Livie was a bit sad about leaving, I promised her we'd stop and get a treat at Caribou Coffee before heading out. Okay, she got a chocolate milk; Mama got the iced coffee. She likes stopping at Caribou because there are a couple of her "bear friends" who hang out there.

Livie and her bear friend and a cold chocolate milk. Mmmm!

Of course, we also had to stop at the "germ pit" (a.k.a. the kids' play area) at the nice mall. I wanted her to get the "wigglies" spent before we had to drive  2.5 hours home. Plus, we were able to get lunch in the food court (and use clean bathrooms) before starting our drive.

Yay! Blue skies!

She had to pose while playing.

Posing (again) for the camera.

I'm just glad we had good weather (though it was a bit windy at times, out in the open farmland).

The typical Iowa view on the drive east on I-80.

Now This is What I'm Talking About!!

I love winter. I really do. Cold weather doesn't bother me (the static, however . . . ). I love getting out in the snow. It's refreshing. Some of my best memories of family vacations involve downhill skiing over various Christmas breaks.

I'm also one of those people who absolutely cannot stand heat and humidity - in other words, your typical Midwest (or Southern, or East Coast) summer; those hot, sticky, muggy summers when my glasses fog up the moment I step outside? Blech. No, thank you! (Dry heat is another matter; low humidity heat is easy to handle!) I'll take cool sweater weather - or cold winter weather any day over a hot, humid day. 

But when we get days and days of overcast, gray, depressing skies, with no hint of sun for who knows how long? Well, it starts wearing on me, to the point I think I need one of those S.A.D. lights.

Sure, I spent quite a bit of my life in the Midwest (Illinois, Indiana, and Iowa), so I know what to expect from its weather. But I've also spent a lot of time in the Southwest where we easily get over 300 days of pure sunshine a year - when it rains, the clouds move in, do their thing, and are gone before you know it. Rarely did we get more than a day or two of overcast skies at any one time.

So now that we've settled in Iowa (for now), I get really excited about sunshine after days of not having it. And today seems to be one of those days when it'll be nothing but sunshine - no "mostly sunny" or "partly sunny" skies, but "sunny" all day.

The sun (and a cup of coffee) really make Monday mornings so much easier to handle!

Here's the view from the back yard (through family room the window), as I tried to capture some "snow glitter" in photos:

Sun, snowy sparkles, and shadows.

Snow, some more sparkles, and shadows.

I tried to capture all the sparkles, but I guess the angle was wrong. Got a few of them, though.

And the view from the front yard (after putting on my boots and heading outside, realizing after I got out there, it was not much more than a disappointing "dusting" of snow in the yard):

No clouds!! Blue sky!! However, I didn't really capture any "snow glitter" in this photo. The snow glitter was actually pretty dazzling in person.

I have to admit, though, that with Spring's "official" arrival coming up in a couple weeks, I'm looking forward to not having to bundle up in so many layers (and spring shouldn't be too overly warm, yet).

More importantly, I'm really looking forward to taking "The Spring Shot, 2012" on the University of Iowa's campus (here's The Winter Shot, 2012). I've been thinking about it for the past week or so. I'm pretty sure I won't take it on the first day of spring, just to ensure a more "springy" and less "wintery" look, but it'll be hard to wait too long.

Snowy March . . . and Coffee

Yep, Mother Nature sure is showing us who's "boss." Yesterday, she flurried all day long.

This was about 8 AM. By the time the flurries stopped late in the afternoon, we had a good, wet coat of snow.

Today, of course, is mostly sunny and really windy.

Actually, the wind started last night, and hasn't stopped yet. It sure made for good, spooky Ghost Adventures watching with all the howling going on outside.

And in honor of morning, I had to start the day off right (like I do every other morning), with a big ol' mug of coffee, flavored with some hazelnut creamer:

I got this mug in Santa Fe (obviously) when Andrew and I spent 24-hours there (which was definitely NOT enough time).

Elevators and Coffee

I may have spent a little a lot of time being homesick for the Southwest yesterday (especially since my class' reading was about the Southwest, and our professor spent our class time going into detail about Hopis and Navajos in the Four Corners region). I did, however, end up getting to walk around in some weak sunshine as it tried breaking through the clouds. Walking AND sunshine always seem to be such mood-boosters (that and a good night's sleep . . . which I should be accomplishing, finally, tonight).

By the time I got to Iowa City yesterday, the complete (and seemingly permanent) cloud cover I'd had in the Cedar Rapids area had broken up a bit, and was letting some sunshine filter through.

I'd planned well and had gotten to school with plenty of time to get a coffee after parking at my usual parking garage. However, while I did get the "FULL" light again, I was fortunate in only having wait about 3-5 minutes before the gate went up, letting me through.

Anyway, I was really looking forward to getting a special treat - not just a regular cup o' joe, but a flavored coffee from The Java House; I was strongly leaning toward their double "caramel white mocha" (double, meaning the barista adds an extra shot of espresso). I try not to go there too often, because when I do, I usually end up getting one of their mocha-like beverages, and I'm absolutely sure those are laden with lots of unnecessary calories! (I really don't want to know because I'm sure it's a really scary number!!)

So as I was slowly driving through the parking garage, looking for a space (and going up, and up, from the lowest level to the next to the next . . . ), I was trying to decide what kind of coffee treat I was gonna get, the regular mocha or the caramel white mocha . . . and would they have some Mexican chocolate cookies this time? (I'd seen them in their bakery case once, but hadn't gotten one. Ever since, I've been so curious about what they tasted like, being a fan of Mexican hot chocolate . . . and mole.)

A-ha! A parking spot on the 4th level . . . and off I went toward the elevator, and minutes away from a caffeinated treat! Just the idea that I was treating myself to a once-in-a-while sugary, caffeinated beverage treat seemed to boost my mood.

But before I walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, I noticed something cool. Okay, I've noticed it before, but this time, the light bulb went on over my head. I had my camera in hand . . . I could take a photo. Of what? The light pattern the elevator's ceiling lights give off on the metallic elevator walls:

Not the best photo, but it gives you a decent view of the light pattern. I had to snap the photo quickly because it was just about to ding at floor "1" and open its doors.

And then to show you what I appreciate about Iowa City, I took a photo of the "Ped Mall" (the Pedestrian Mall), which has plenty of shops, restaurants, the Iowa City Public Library, and is located fairly close to some of the campus buildings where a couple of my classes are held. Yes, the skies are doing their best to clear up.

I especially like this area in the spring time (but my allergies don't) because the leaves are starting to burst out of their buds, and you can feel the vibe starting to change as the season changes.

I enjoy walking through here, regardless of the season, though. (I like winter, but not just because I like snow and cold temps, but because they have those little white lights adorning the bare trees at various points throughout the Ped Mall - they're very festive against the white snow.)

A Day Off

Well, yesterday ended up being a kind of day off of sorts.

First, the coffee maker has finally broken! Waa! When I woke up realizing I didn't smell freshly brewed coffee (since I program it to brew at the same time my alarm clock goes off), I immediately headed to the kitchen, bleary-eyed, only to find a malfunctioning machine (meaning, it basically went kaput! and failed to turn on). Needless to say, it was a day off from caffeine. It was hard!

I ended up having to go out for coffee. I need caffeine more than I care to admit. I just couldn't face the whole day without it! See, I sometimes go for a time not needing coffee, but then something prompts me to start drinking it regularly, and in larger than normal amounts (going from 8-9 hour shifts to 12- to 14-hour shifts at work . . . or starting graduate school . . . you get the picture).

Since I hadn't weaned myself off coffee after my last semester ended mid-December . . . well, it was kinda hard simply going without it this morning.

So I decided to go to the bookstore, where I could sit in the café with one of my current reads (Death Come for the Archbishop by Willa Cather) and a mocha. (And a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup cookie.) Partly because I had some time while Livie was at school, and partly because I won't get much of a any chance to just sit and read for pleasure (with a coffee and a treat) once my semester starts. Okay, so maybe I'll have some time before I go to bed, because I usually try to allow 30 minutes of pre-bed time to chill out and read before turning out the lights. But that's not exactly the same as treating myself to 30-45 minutes of leisurely reading in the middle of the day, just because I feel like it. 

And let me tell you, as soon as that mocha hit my tongue - it was like liquid gold! Such a welcome relief, partly because it tasted good, but also because it seemed (after a few minutes) that it took the edge off a headache I'd developed earlier in the morning. I wasn't sure if it was solely due to sinus pressure or the lack of caffeine. Who knows? The headache never completely went away, so maybe it was a combination of both?

Anyway, the second reason why yesterday was a day off was because I'd accidentally whacked the top of my foot (just below the middle toes) on the edge of my dresser Tuesday afternoon. I'd been running around doing something (barefoot) and boom! It hurt like a you-know-what. I immediately wondered if I'd broken something! (After a bit of icing, I realized I hadn't.) I woke up yesterday with a massive bruise on my foot along with some soreness . . . so I figured I'd just skip the run/walk today. Tomorrow will have to be on the elliptical at the gym, because we're supposed to get snow (finally?) and blowing winds tomorrow.

And third, it dawned on me that my semester starts NEXT WEEK!! I start school on Tuesday afternoon! I knew it was coming up, but the realization that it's in less than a week really surprised me, if you can believe it.

So starting next week, I'll be back to sitting at a desk looking something like this:

 And glad I study at a campus like this:

. . . but will most likely look something like this (that is, until Mother Nature changes her fickle mind once again):

Oh, and that reminds me, I am going to do another "4 Seasons Series" (like this one). I've been thinking (since around October) about good locations, and have narrowed my choices down to two spots; I'll make my final decision on my first day of class next Tuesday. I definitely had fun last year taking photos in each season from one particular spot on campus and have been looking forward to doing it again.

So be on the lookout for that photo . . . I should have "The Winter Shot, 2012" posted within the month, I'm assuming.

Catching Up

Now that I've got some time before classes start again, I've got the chance to catch up on these (not necessarily the coffee, of course. . . that's always in high demand during the semester):

These are the books I started earlier in the semester, but haven't yet had a chance to finish. That's Livie's magic wand, by the way - she wanted me to include it in the photo.

Starting a Monday Morning

This is the way to start a rainy Monday morning in the autumn:

Yep, this is the "Ompi" cup. My grandfather, Sir Rafa, used to have a cute little story about a "pet" spider named Ompi (he didn't really have a pet spider . . . he just made up a really good story about one). A few years ago when Liv and I saw a spider in the garage, I told her it was Sir Rafa's spider, Ompi, so she wouldn't be afraid of it (being a "daddy-long-legs," it was nothing to be afraid of).

Of course that now means that when I pull out my Halloween mug every autumn, Liv refers to it as "the Ompi cup" because of the spider on the inside.

She wondered if Ompi likes coffee. I told her that because Sir Rafa liked coffee, his pet spider, Ompi, likes it, so that's why Ompi shares mine with me.

The Reward for Getting Up Early

Aside from coffee with hazelnut flavoring, there IS another reward for getting up early:

I actually ran outside in my pajamas, barefoot, pre-coffee, just so I could capture this view yesterday morning. 

I absolutely love the stunning colors.

Once back inside with a fresh cup of coffee, I said a quiet "Thanks" to my grandfather for passing on his "early bird" genes to me.

The Good and the Bad

Well, I have some good news and some bad news.

The good news (in no particular order):

• My first semester of graduate school was officially over as of Thursday, May 12, 2011, at 5:00 PM. This is when I turned in my final paper for my Early American Literature class.
• I received an A- for my oral presentation (via Power Point) on the history of New Mexico (including a discussion about New Mexico in print) for my Early American Literature class.
• I got a 100% on my final exam (a 3 page paper) for Native American Literature (which I turned in on Tuesday, May 10, 2011).
• My final score for my Native American Literature class is 97.83%. That's a pretty solid A!!
• I have until June 2012 to return my library books to the the University of Iowa's Main Library. I'm glad I don't have to rush to return them. It's a 45-minute drive one way to campus!
• Livie and I are having a relaxing Sunday morning. She's watching PBS Kids (shows like Sesame Street, Arthur, etc.), and I've been leisurely reading a book for fun and not for a class (it's Sherman Alexie's The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven).
• I'm on my second cup of hazelnut coffee. And a big ol' glass of ice water. 
• I slept well last night, and Livie let me sleep in 'til 7:48 AM this morning. 
• I enjoyed a Guinness beer last night after Livie went to bed.
• She and I ordered pizza for dinner, for the second night in a row. 
• I was in bed by 10 PM. 

The bad news:

• Out of the $298.48 worth of textbooks I bought for TWO (and ONLY TWO) classes this past semester, the bookstore bought back $0.00 worth.Yep. A big fat ZERO.
• The paper I turned in on Thursday wasn't exactly my best work. Now I've got butterflies in my stomach as I wait for my grade. 
• Because I got "so much" sleep last night, I woke up with a headache, and feeling hungover. (I'm usually up by 6:30 at the very latest, regardless of when I went to bed. Because - like my grandfather, Sir Rafa - I'm a naturally early riser.) I'm still a little groggy, even after two cups of coffee. 
• We ordered pizza last night for dinner - for the second night in a row. That's good because it's tasty. But it's bad because . . . well . . . because it's two nights' worth of pizza. 

To end this with some good news - the good news outweighs the bad.

And the rest of the day? We have nothing planned, other than being able to hang out at home. Oh, and we may go to the store later to get some milk, coffee, and orange juice, because we're out of all three.

Halfway through my second cup of coffee.

Liv has taken over my room!

The Main Library, obviously! (I have a long while before I need to return my books! Woo hoo!) 

These are the books I'm taking back to the library within the next week.

These are the ones I'm going to keep a bit longer, so I can read them at my leisure.

Coffee with Ompi and Chino

My grandfather, whom I called "Sir Rafa," was a well-known storyteller.

It didn't matter what kind of story he told, whether it was an autobiographical account of his boyhood in El Paso, Texas with his brother, nicknamed Chino (supposedly because he had curly hair), or his experiences as a young man, Army recollections . . . or even something made up to entertain me and/or the rest of his grandchildren.

Here's a little background: I'm the only one who called him "Sir Rafa." I started calling him that because 1.) his name was Rafael, and 2.) I'd long ago made up a story about my family and he was a knight called "Sir Rafa" and the nickname stuck. 

Typically, the rest of his grandchildren called him "Ompa" based on the German word Opa meaning grandpa. My grandmother, Oma, was called that because it's German for grandma. I don't know how the German words for grandma and grandpa came about in our family. But they stuck. Well, aside from some of my cousins who often called him "Hijo" (meaning "son" in Spanish).

Okay, so back to his being a storyteller . . .

One day, when my siblings and I were visiting our grandparents in El Paso, he was telling us a story about a friendly little spider who liked to perch on his earlobe and keep him company. The spider's name? Ompi.

Ompi kept Sir Rafa company during many adventures throughout his life. They were always cute companion stories that kept us entertained. 

Now fast forward to the present. A number of months ago, Livie saw a spider in the garage as we were getting into the car. She got scared. So I told her, "Don't worry, it's just Ompi."

Of course, she had to ask "Who's Ompi?"

And I briefly told her about Ompi, which seemed to ease her mind about the spider in the garage.

Occasionally, she'd see a spider here or there, always remembering my story about Ompi, nervously asking me, "That's Ompi, right?"

"Yes, that's Ompi," was my usual reply.

Until one day when she saw TWO spiders. Only one could be Ompi, right?

Right. So who was the other spider?! Well, to keep her from getting worried, I spontaneously said, "Oh, that's Ompi's brother, Chino! Don't worry, he's as nice as Ompi!"

She was a little wary of me at first, not sure if she should believe me. But she finally did.

Now, every time we see a spider, it's usually "Ompi" or "Chino." If we're at Abuelita's house, it's usually Chino, because for some reason, Chino likes to travel a lot! Ompi's usually at home, keeping the house safe, and occasionally drinking hot chocolate or coffee.

Like today. Ompi is drinking coffee with me, as you can see in the photo below.

I'd gotten this mug, oh, about 3 years ago in Des Moines. Andrew and I had gone into a coffee shop early one October morning, because Andrew's a huge fan of their autumn "pumpkin spice lattes." And I saw the cup. I thought it was SO cute, I had to get it.

Ever since, I've used it all autumn long, starting around the end of September.

Since Livie and I started talking about Ompi and Chino, the "nice" spiders, she now gets excited when I use this cup. This morning, she exclaimed that Ompi is helping me drink my coffee this morning. I agreed, explaining that while he likes my coffee (with a couple Splendas and some hazelnut creamer), he prefers it "black" without sweetener or flavorings, just like Sir Rafa.

And that is how I ended up having coffee with Ompi and Chino.

Memory Lane Friday - A Room

It's a very special room that I'm thinking of; it's one of those rooms which is special in so many other houses. But this particular room belonged to my grandparents (my grandmother in particular). It was their kitchen. Now it doesn't matter if I'm talking about the one in their house on Blue Ridge Circle, or the house on Mountain Walk Drive. They are both equally important in my memory.

Their house on Blue Ridge Circle came first. That's the house my grandparents lived in when I was first born.

It's the kitchen where my grandmother bathed me when I was a baby . . . in the kitchen sink.

It's the kitchen where, when I was a young child, I remember eating a hot dog for the first time. And an orange cream-sicle for the first time. And the many bunches of green grapes their neighbor grew in his back yard and shared with us.

I remember eating meals in that kitchen with my grandparents, with the Asian-inspired serving bowls, the scents of delicious meals filling the air. I remember how my grandfather would occasionally read the paper at the table. I once  tried to bring a book to the table (because my grandfather read at the table occasionally, so why couldn't I?); however, my grandmother gave me "that look." My book got put away, and that was that. "The Boss" had spoken without saying a word.

I also remember that on rare occasions, the TV would be on - I distinctly remember that "The Odd Couple" (starring Tony Randall and Jack Klugman) was on at the same time we ate our evening meals.

When they moved to the house on Mountain Walk Drive, I remember how warm that kitchen was. I don't mean because it was my grandmother's kitchen and she was so welcoming and was loving her visiting family. It was warm because of the temperature. So often when she was cooking, it would be very warm in there, sometimes uncomfortably warm. She'd be comfortable, and everyone else would be perspiring and trying to open windows or heading to the other room. I guess if you can't stand the heat . . .

I love thinking of that kitchen - the one on Mountain Walk Drive. I remember it well. The kitchen at the Blue Ridge Circle house? While I love my memories from that house, I really only remember "snapshots." The kitchen on Mountain Walk Drive - well, I remember wonderful scenes from life within those four walls. And sensations - scents, sounds, tastes. Emotions.

I remember how good it would smell in the morning, like coffee, pancakes, bacon . . . or coffee, huevos con chorizo, and flour tortillas as they were being warmed. Sometimes they smelled like biscuits and avena (oatmeal) . . . and coffee, of course.

Typically, my grandfather would be up super early every day. If someone walked in after he was at the table drinking his orange juice, he'd simply say, "Good afternoon," with a big smile and a twinkle in his eye, even if it were only 6:30 AM.

I love how the windows overlooked the back yard, the wispy leaves of a tree back there providing shade in the afternoon. Now that I'm thinking about it, I can't remember if one could see the cactus plants on the other side of the fence. They're the flat, paddle type, with the red "fruit" growing on it, and at some point, blossoming into flowers. I think they're called "tuna." Not the fish called "tuna" obviously. I'm almost expecting a wise-crack from my grandfather right about now.

Here's the type of cactus I'm talking about:

I took this tuna photo circa summer 1994. I'd hopped to the other side of the fence to get this photo.

The smell of delicious meals other than breakfast filled that room, too. Sometimes it would be pot roast. Other times it would be homemade tacos (Oma's tacos are the BEST), Spanish rice, her world famous homemade refried beans, or maybe enchiladas and Spanish rice. Sometimes salad. Always bread or tortillas.

I remember occasional evening treats in there. Specifically, she'd usually have Klondike bars or ice cream sandwiches on hand. Sometimes it would be some sort of baked goods. I remember that she liked making lemon meringue pie. But she'd put shaved coconut in the lemon part. Yuck. If she had only left out the coconut, I would've liked it. She was wily, probably wanting that much more for herself. My Oma!

I have another more recent memory that I really love. There was a bejeweled basket on the floor in a corner near the dining room entrance. Inside the basket? A big ol' bag of dried pinto beans. When Olivia was old enough to crawl around, she found that basket and was absolutely fascinated by it. When I think of that kitchen, I love thinking of her immediately crawling or teetering  to that basket and grabbing the bag of beans.

Um, yeah. We put a stop to the biting really quickly! (I think that's Daddy - Mr. Safety Patrol - right behind her, reaching on her right side to retrieve the bag so she wouldn't bite it. Pretty sure she was teething, and the texture of the bag and beans must've been nice on her gums. But that's what her teething toys or popsicles were for, right?)

I miss that kitchen. I am filled with a sense of saudade when thinking that the El Paso era is now over. Oma lives in Iowa now, in my parents' home. And my grandfather passed away in October 2008. So that home on Mountain Walk Drive is no longer occupied by my family. But I will always remember that wonderful kitchen and all the meals my Oma made with love.

Sir Rafa at his place at the kitchen table, circa summer 1994. 

Abuelita and Livie in Oma's kitchen, 25 Jun 2006. This is one of Abuelita's favorite photos. 

Click here for today's other Memory Lane Friday posts:

It's Too Soon to *Have* to Write Another One, but Here it Goes

This is for H.A.T.

Uncle, I wasn't expecting to write another one of these so soon (having written one last year for my grandfather), but here it is - my fondest memories of you. And since I feel like I'm now the official storyteller, the family wordsmith, I think this will be an appropriate way to remember you, with stories I want to share.

In the morning when I'm getting my coffee fix, I will think of you, since I know you enjoy your morning cup of java as much as, if not more than, the next guy. We've even had discussions about coffee, and how perhaps Oma's was good because it was Oma's coffee in Oma's kitchen, but it was not as strong as you and I were accustomed to drinking in our respective homes, or in our offices . . .wherever it was that we drank our cup(s) of joe. Oma's coffee, though, went well with her huevos con chorizo, or even her pecan pancakes. And it went well with the company we kept back in the day on Mountain Walk Drive.

I sent you a coffee mug with a special photo on it - one of you and Baby Olivia while she was still a little thing, a gummy smile on her face before her teeth started coming in. You appreciated it and said it was one of your favorite mugs (if not THE favorite one). I sent it to you because of your coffee habit, and because it was a great photo of a great-uncle and his great-niece.

It is such a great photo of the two of you at Oma's house - it's a good pic to look at - to think of you with big smiles.

I love imagining the story about the "Scare in the Moonlight on Blue Ridge." You know the story. Long ago in El Paso, you and a buddy were hiding in the bushes in the moonlight when my mother got home from her nursing shift at the hospital. You thought you'd startle her and that it would be funny, right? But when she let out a scream, it scared you more than you expected; you'd planned on startling her . . . and then my grandparents came running out, scaring you even more. Not what you expected, was it?! Sure, my grandparents were very upset with you, especially Oma. As a matter of fact, you were not allowed to go back to your buddy's house to spend the night, she was so angry.

Yet, this is one story that makes Oma laugh hysterically - after so many years, she thinks of how you were so scared, your face was pale in the moonlight; while she was mad at you then, the memory of your face in the moonlight has become hysterically funny to her. She laughs so hard recalling this story, it makes me laugh uncontrollably. When I last asked you to retell the story to me yet again, you simply said, "Let's not discuss it anymore," with a sly smile on your face.

I know you said let's not discuss it anymore, but I will tell this story to Livie one day. It's good to keep the family stories going forward.  I know you would agree with me, even though this is one story you want hush-hush. And I will have to tell Marissa, too.

Maybe a day in the future, I'll have Olivia and Marissa with me, and I'll tell them about you, something especially funny. Like the time we were at my parents' house on Casady Drive. You were on the treadmill in the den. I was in there watching TV. You were running, deciding to take off your sweatshirt. But you didn't stop the treadmill. It didn't stop, but your feet MUST have - just for a moment as you took the sweatshirt over your head. Suddenly, whoosh . . . boom! You've been thrown against the back wall. We look at each other. With a sheepish grin, you say "Oops!" and give a laugh.

THAT is funny stuff that can't be made up. I know you think it's funny now. We laughed about it recently. It's stuff for me to remember to tell your great-nieces. Hopefully it will be as funny to them as it was to the two of us.

Speaking of laughing, remember the time when you and I were in El Paso at the same time and we watched an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie with Sir Rafa? It was Junior - the one where the Governator's character becomes pregnant and gives birth to a healthy baby. Remember that? Sir Rafa laughed so much, it made the movie that much more fun to watch. Especially when he loved that line the Governator says - something to the effect of "It's my body, my choice." Fun times.

Then there was that time we rented Dona Flor e Seus Dois Maridos . . . we were expecting to see that classic Brazilian movie in its original form, but little did we know it was dubbed in English. Remember how the voice of Flor didn't match her character? A good flick, but not quite so good in English as in its original Brazilian Portuguese. And then we were worried that Oma would come in - though it is a definite classic from the mid-'70s, it wasn't exactly along the lines of an appropriate "Oma" movie.

We've got so many memories from El Paso, don't we Uncle? Remember the time we were there for Thanksgiving, and Christine was with us, too? We had an awesome, traditional Thanksgiving dinner, complete with Oma's famous stuffing. To complete the whole turkey day experience, you, Christine, and I went to the Thanksgiving Day parade in the rain. Remember that? I know Christine does. She and I talked about it recently, trying to keep these awesome memories fresh.

That same weekend, the three of us headed to Juarez on the Border Jumper Trolley from downtown El Paso. We had fun being "tourists" that day and ate lunch at some Froggy chain restaurant. Christine recently asked me if I remembered the strength of the margaritas, to which I responded, "Oh, you mean the margarita-flavored tequila?" ;)

Again, that was another rainy day in El Paso over that same Thanksgiving weekend. I remember driving back to Oma's house in her little tan car, in the rain, with water rolling down the street. Oma was worried, but glad that I'd driven; she actually trusted my driving.

And since we're remembering a story including tequila, I have to admit: I think "Cin cin, Uncle," when I have a margarita or enjoy a shot of Patron Silver. It's good stuff and I know you enjoyed it.

Or the next time I open a bottle of my New Mexico wine - I'll do a "Cin cin for The Uncle." Andrew and I have already done a few toasts "For the Uncle," so it's already started. And with coffee, too.

So . . . on to more memories: I was looking through my address book the other day and was looking under the Ts. I saw your familiar handwriting, with your name, address, e-mail, and cell info written down. I stopped and smiled, realizing I had something written in your own hand in my possession.

In my cell phone, as I scrolled through the saved phone numbers, I saw the one labeled HAT. That number will never again be in service, but I can't seem to erase it out of my phone.

It'll remind me of you when I scroll through my phone. I will think of more stories when I see those initials.

Like the times we'd discuss Tony Hillerman's books, set in the southwest, our wonderful, beloved, bronze, dusty, turquoise-filled Southwest. And how Joe Leaphorn, the Legendary Lieutenant, didn't believe in coincidences. How there are no such things as coincidence.

I will think of one of the last communications we shared on Facebook. I'd told you I'd picked up Anne Hillerman's book Tony Hillerman's Landscape and how Tony himself had written the intro before he passed away. And you figured I'd already finished zipping through the book, signing off with your usual "UH".

Or the time I sent you an article about Tony, and you said it was a fine piece, and asked if it inspired me to write more? Yes, that's your way of telling me I am the storyteller. I have a lot of stories to tell. I will write them.

I'm just glad that over our final visit together in December, I was able to talk to you about The Hummingbird's Daughter, by Luis Alberto Urrea. You knew just what I meant, when I felt like I was actually a part of that story, I was IN the story, I was experiencing it firsthand. The tortillas, the huevos con chorizo, the scents, sights, sounds, the feelings. I was enveloped in that story, and it was like home. And you knew just what I meant when I explained how I was swallowed whole by that story. Now that is what a story is supposed to do. What I also feel about all those Hillerman novels I've read and loved . . . like I've met the Legendary Lieutenant, or Jim Chee, the Navajo Tribal Police Officer who is also a shaman-in-training.

And I will think of you when I write my own stories of the Southwest and aim to evoke those same feelings into a new set of readers - that they may feel a part of my stories, as though I'm writing their own personal stories, through their own eyes. I'm sure I'll have stories set in other locations; I have lived in so many other places. But like the state motto says, I was definitely enchanted by "The Land of Enchantment." I will write something about New Mexico, my home for a mere year, and your home for decades, the place that captured me with beautiful landscapes, the way it did for Tony Hillerman so long ago.

The Southwest as a whole, including El Paso, Tucson, Vegas . . . I love it all. I will have to find a way to include it all.The places I love, as well as the family we must remember and keep close.

I will be The Storyteller, Uncle. I will. Not to worry about that. I have lots of words in my little gray cells, and I love using them, lots of them - words, that is. And little gray cells, too.

Ate logou, Tio.

I remember

This is a re-post of something I wrote on my grandfather's birthday, July 1st. He would've been 95 this year, 2009. I wanted to post it on the eve of the new year, 2010, to keep his memory alive as we move forward in time.

When I smell or taste spearmint, I think of Sir Rafa. He usually had that green spearmint Trident; I do, however remember that the alternate flavor was cinnamon Dentyne. He also had those spearmint breath mints that came in a roll, like Life Savers do; I think they were called "Breath Savers"? I have a box of spearmint Altoids that I keep in my car, and every time I pop one in my mouth, the overwhelming scent of spearmint whisks me away to El Paso, and the office next to the guest room. You know, because he had a stash of spearmint (and cinnamon) gum in his desk drawer.

I think of Sir Rafa when I stop at (or drive past) a gas station with a car wash. He enjoyed telling me about the time when I was little and he and I went through the car wash. He asked me, "Are you scared?" and I told him, "No, but can I sit in front with you?"

Livie has already repeated history in a manner of speaking. She and I once went through the car wash and she said to me, "Mommy, I'm not afraid, but you can sit in the back with me if YOU'RE afraid."

When Andrew cuts the grass and pulls weeds out of the landscaping, I think of Sir Rafa and all the care he put into maintaining a well-groomed yard.

The smell of the garage makes me think of how orderly he kept his. When Andrew's out working in the garage, sometimes I have a fleeting memory of seeing Sir Rafa as he was working in his.

How about the story that makes Oma laugh so hard she can barely breathe? Here's a hint: Hector is tired of hearing the retelling of this moonlit story recalling "the scream on Blue Ridge." But it's classic Sir Rafa, and I occasionally have Oma tell it to me AGAIN, just so she laughs.

When I walk into my closet and have to get something from the back, I see my uniforms, all crisply pressed, and my steel-toe boots slightly scuffed and not as polished as they should be. Right next to the steel-toe boots are my "comfy" boots, which actually DO have enough elbow grease to look almost like obsidian. I see these items and immediately get a knot in my stomach because I miss him so much.

In my closet, if I open the top drawer, I'll see my first flight cap with the gold 2nd Lieutenant bar; I then remember how my grandfather called the room to attention the first time he saw me in uniform. I remember how much he loved being related to a "90-Day Wonder."

Sometimes I'll see a photo of the mountains in my back yard (in Alamogordo, NM), and I'll think of him because he had a similar mountain view in El Paso, and I know that his Texas sunset would've been similar.

If somebody wakes up late, my first response is . . . ? Naturally, it's "Good afternoon."

When Hector and I sometimes talk about the English language, I sometimes remember the time Sir Rafa and I had a discussion about a certain entry from his computer's thesaurus. He asked me why "infer" isn't necessarily the best replacement word for "imply" and we had a lively discussion about the nuances of the English language.

Sometimes I'll see Alex's handwriting and think of how opposite it is to our grandfather's neat, compact printing.

I pour coffee in the morning and think that mine is so different than a certain somebody's black coffee. Mine has 2 Splendas and some hazelnut biscotti Coffee-Mate.

Oma sometimes remembers how both Bonnie and I each loved going to Luby's and seeing the colorful fish in the fish tank in the lobby. When in El Paso, if I drive past a Luby's, I think of BOTH of my grandparents, because if Oma and I were there, then Sir Rafa was there, too.

Ever notice how Uncle Chino has so many of the same mannerisms as his brother?

Remember the story about "Rafa and Chino: Newspaper boys"? Or the "Pieces" and "Getting hot dogs and sharing a soda" stories? Livie has heard these stories already.

Ever catch my Uncle Ralph when he speaks a "Sir Rafa-ism"?

So Sir Rafa was born on July 1st. Yes, he would agree that his birthday is before our nation's birthday, but he always wanted to make sure we understood that this does NOT make him OLDER than our nation!

May we continue to remember him, so that he may live on with us.

 Olivia and Sir Rafa, when we spent the night in El Paso, before catching a flight out of the El Paso airport; the next morning, we were flying to the Lake House for the July 4th holiday.

Sir Rafa and Alex, at the Army museum at Ft. Bliss, in El Paso.

This photo was taken by my uncle, Ralph A. Torres, circa late-autumn -- winter 2008. This is at the Ft. Bliss cemetery. We miss you, Sir Rafa.

Oma and Sir Rafa, back in the day. Maybe this was the Enlisted Club at Ft. Bliss?

His official service photo from his Army days. He was a Sergeant (E-5) in this photo.