Dreaming of my Grandparents' Home

This morning, I think I was dreaming about being at my grandparents' home in El Paso, TX (their Mountain Walk Drive home, not the Blue Ridge Circle one) just before I woke up.

In that nebulous no-man's-land between dreaming and waking, I vaguely recall waking up in the spare bedroom at my grandparents' at breakfast time (never mind that I was usually awake well before breakfast). The scents of percolating coffee and frying bacon, the clink of utensils, the sunlight peeking through the edges of the window shade and curtains - I was certain that I was registering these stimuli as though they were actually filtering into my brain via my senses.

When I opened my eyes, I was genuinely surprised at finding myself in my own bedroom hundreds of miles away from El Paso, so sure was I that I'd awakened at my grandparents' home.

Needless to say, I've had a bit of "homesickness" lingering around me today, noticeable when I have time to sit down and take a moment to relax. I think the cloudy weather is partly to blame; overcast skies always spark a bit of blues and homesickness for the Southwest, where we usually have about 300 (or more!) days of sunshine.

Anyway, a week ago, I'd visited my parents. While I was there, my mom had given me an album of photos she'd organized after going through my grandmother's belongings and finding her many photos.

I was looking at these newly acquired pics this morning, and decided to share a few of particular interest to me after this morning's dream of waking up at my grandparents' place.

This first pic is of my grandmother. There's nothing written on the back. I'm going to assume she's not much more than one year old, if that? Circa 1925-1926.

This next pic is of me, at my grandparents' Blue Ridge Circle home. The back of the pic says "Aug. 1974 3 yrs. 9 mos." in Oma's handwriting. 

It looks like I've found one of Oma's perfumes. Or maybe it was my mom's, since it looks like Chanel No. 5, which is one of "her" perfumes.

So, I had to include this next one, simply because it looks like I was instructed to dab a little perfume behind my ear. Because that's how you wear it, right? I can see that the lid is on the coffee table next to me. (The same thing is written on the back of this pic.) I'm assuming my grandfather took both this pic and the previous one. 

A pic of my Uncle Ralph is on the table behind me. 

I definitely remember the glass-cube window in the foyer behind me.

This last pic, I'm sure, was taken by my grandfather, using my camera. This is in the backyard at the Mountain Walk Drive home - the same home I dreamed I'd woken up in this morning. 

I'm going to say this was taken in the early 2000s. There's nothing written on the back. I'm assuming I'd had this pic printed when I'd gotten home after visiting them, and then I sent it for them to keep. 

It's been fun looking through these "old" pics, some older than others, and finding ones I haven't seen before, or finding ones, I'd forgotten about.

Liv's First French Baking Lesson

While we were at my parents' for Christmas, Livie got to do a special activity. My mom had had a very special guest staying at her house while we were there. Pedro. Pedro used to work at one of the US Embassies in South America, as well as honing his culinary skills in Paris, of all places. He knows his way around a kitchen like any celebrity chef you'd see on TV these days.

Well, one day, my mom said that Pedro had mentioned to her that he had the perfect activity for Livie. He wanted to teach her how to make an apple tart. He had this French recipe he wanted to teach her; it was one he'd seen young French children her age making all the time, during his stay in Paris. He said it would be a perfect first "from scratch" recipe. And it would be delicious.

So one afternoon, after tending to their "mise en place" (getting all their ingredients ready and kitchen tools set out in their proper places), they got right to work on the recipe.

 Pedro's ensuring she's getting all the pastry ingredients in the bowl.

He's giving instruction on how to mix the pastry ingredients."Use two hands on the mixer."

She is doing it herself!

Adding some final wet ingredients.

Time to add the apples on the pastry dough. Abuelita is "supervising."

Almost done! She's adding golden raisins that had been soaked in . . . something with cloves (I've forgotten exactly what it was).

 It's ready for the oven!

 

After smelling its heavenly aroma wafting from the oven, it was FINALLY ready.

Liv gets the first piece.

It was DELICIOUS!! Now I just have to email Pedro and ask him to send me the recipe so that Liv can make it again.

I DO Love Those Southwestern Mountains

Okay, I've been meaning to share a couple more photos of the Southwest, namely a few more mountain shots. These pics were taken while we were in El Paso and Alamogordo in November 2013.

Now, keep in mind, I took the pics while we were driving, so they aren't high quality shots. But they are still visual memories for me . . . until the next time I make it back "home," whenever that may be.

 My grandparents used to live not too far from the base of this mountain (the one with the noticeable "ridges" at the top). Needless to say, I saw these mountains (the Franklin Mountains) every day when I visited my grandparents in El Paso. Not knowing when I may be back in El Paso, and knowing that I probably wouldn't have a better chance at snapping a pic, I went ahead and took a shot while we were driving on US 54 in El Paso. Probably on our way back to Ft. Bliss.

I don't remember which day I took this pic (using my camera, not the iPhone), but it seems like it was midday. Probably, it was either the day of the visitation (Veterans' Day) or the next day (my birthday/Oma's funeral).

 

Now this next pic (also from the camera) was from Sunday, November 10, 2013, the day Andrew, Liv, and I had gone to White Sands National Monument. We'd spent pretty much the whole day in Alamogordo, NM, either visiting White Sands, or hitting some other "major attractions" while we were there, so Livie could see where we used to live. (The last time she was there, she was about 1.5 years old, and thus, doesn't really remember it.) 

 These are the Franklin Mountains, again, as we're heading southward on US 54 from Alamogordo, back to El Paso. As you can see, the mountain peak with the "ridges" on the top is the one near where my grandparents used to live. This was taken late in the afternoon, probably around 4:00-5:00 PM Mountain Standard Time. There was something about that time of day that made it feel like I was "going home" to my grandparents' house, even though we weren't. It was as though I was where I was supposed to be.

 Okay, so I've shared this pic of the Organ Mountains in a previous post about White Sands, but I really do love these mountains, so I'm sharing it again. 

We're obviously at White Sands National Monument. I had to stop and just stare at the Organ Mountains, trying to somehow lock in the moment: the sounds of the wind, the voices of Liv and Andrew as they explored, occasionally hearing other visitors' voices (or the faraway sound of traffic from miles and miles away) carried on the wind, the sound of local fauna (mostly birds), the scents - there's nothing quite as beautiful as the scent of the desert Southwest, the feel of the breeze on my skin, and the sun shining on me. I was trying my hardest to make this a visceral memory, not just the one I saved on my camera.

If you click on the pic, you'll be able to see a somewhat larger version of it. In the middle of the photo, you can see some jagged peaks. Those are the Organ Mountains, just bordering Las Cruces, NM. Once, long ago, a friend of my grandmother's told me that they were called the "Organ" Mountains because the jagged peaks looked like the pipes of an (instrumental) organ. Interesting, isn't it? I always love hearing "the rest of the story," to quote Paul Harvey.

The "Second" 11th Anniversary

Andrew and I have two anniversaries every year. Back when we were planning on getting married, we were still in the Air Force. I was up for a new assignment in the next few months (due to report in September of 2002), but Andrew still had just under two years at the assignment he'd been in at the time.

Well, since we were planning our "church" wedding in a beautiful and extraordinary cathedral in Chicago (Holy Name, for those of you familiar with Chicago) for December 2002, what could we do about our differing assignment lengths? If we stuck with just the wedding in Chicago, we'd probably not be assigned together anytime in the near future. It would be hit or miss. Maybe we'd get an assignment together in the future, but more than likely, we'd be on vastly differing assignment schedules for the rest of our time in the military.

So what could we do? We had a justice of the peace ceremony in June 2002. It was the two of us and a few of the guys from Andrew's office acting as witnesses. Andrew even showed up in jeans and a t-shirt, if you can believe it! I was actually a little more "dressed up" in nice pants, a nice shirt, and a blazer.

After the ceremony (actually a few days later . . . once I headed back to Tucson, where I was stationed at the time),  we were then able to do the paperwork (showing the personnel department that we were married), and from there, we were able to get on the same assignment schedule. With a copy of our marriage license, the personnel center would be able to get us to the same base, and for the same time periods.

Voila! We both got an assignment (different units) at a base just outside of Boston, where we would report to in September 2002.

In the meantime, planning for the December 2002 church wedding was still going on.

What a party it was! Lots of family and friends attended. This was the ceremony with the dress, Andrew's dress uniform (the "Mess Dress" which is the Air Force equivalent of a tuxedo), and the cake, and the nice reception afterwards . . . there were lots of smiles and wonderful memories of that frosty, wintery day in Chicago, with the twinkling lights, Christmas decorations everywhere, and magic in the air . . .

 Oh, one memory I have to talk about - when my dad was walking me down the aisle, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. It was my Aunt Lily running down an outer aisle, my cousin Sylvia tagging along behind her. Next thing I saw, Aunt Lily was snapping pictures of me with her little point and shoot camera. Later, Sylvia said she was a bit embarrassed. I told her not to be, as I was sure the memory of Aunt Lily running down the other aisle to get a pic of me would be one of my favorite memories.

And, yes, I'm going to take this opportunity right now to share a bunch of pictures. 
(All photos in this post are by Brad Baskin.)

 I've got three of my good friends from Culver Girls Academy in attendance.

Here, Andrew is hamming it up for the camera. 

 My three bridesmaids and I pose for a picture. My mom ensured that the florist would have one of my favorite flowers, Stargazer Lilies, in the bouquets, along with roses. Since it was wintery, the florist also included some cool evergreen in them, too.

 Andrew and I pose with the groomsmen. Everyone is laughing because Andrew is pinching my backside just as the photographer took the pic. 

 And, of course, I have to include a pic with my grandparents. Oma laughed and smiled so much at the wedding. She was so happy that day (both of them were). It is such a lovely memory to think back on her smiling face. 

I just have to include this picture, too. This is how Oma smiled that whole day.

 What wedding post would be complete without a picture of a wedding cake?

So that's why we have two anniversaries. Today is the "second" 11th anniversary for us. Happy Anniversary to Andrew!

And to end the post, this is our "First Dance" song, called "You are my Home," by Chayanne and Vanessa Williams. It's from the movie, "Dance with Me."

P.S. Andrew was in the hallway as I listened to the song. I asked, "Do you know what this song is?" "I don't remember the name of the song. Don't worry, though. I remember what it was from!" LOL

A Toast to Oma on my Birthday

I've been meaning to sit down and write this post for the past couple days now, and something (laundry, dog training, violin lessons, or whatever) has always taken precedence. But I'm here now, so here it goes; let's see if I can put this into words. I'm sure there'll be a lot of words . . .

On November 4th, my grandmother passed away. So after quickly making plans and travel/lodging/rental car reservations, we arrived in El Paso, TX for the visitation and the funeral. (You can read my tribute to Oma here, the day of the funeral here, or some travel memories here.)

Well, the funeral ended up being on my birthday. What timing, right? It was such a sad, tearful way to spend a birthday, but as my youngest brother and I had discussed that day, it seemed like it was meant to be. It was like . . . well, it was like Oma was ensuring I had one more birthday "with" her in El Paso.

Because it was the day of my grandmother's funeral, I woke up, unsure if I wanted to be wished "Happy Birthday!" or sentiments such as "Hope you're doing something fun to celebrate today!" from family and friends (those friends who were unaware that the funeral was the same day). I was on edge from the start, knowing I would be participating in the funeral mass (I'd be reading the second reading) - I just wanted to get through the reading without crying or having a wavering voice (though that would've been understandable). I wanted a nice, strong, oratorical voice to celebrate Oma. 

While Livie, Andrew, and I were getting ready that morning, I'd mentioned something to the effect of, "Who knew this would be how I'd celebrate my birthday this year?" Andrew responded with, "Well, I want to tell you 'Happy Birthday!' but I'm not sure when would be a good time to say that."

I decided that it was an appropriate time (looking back, I think I really needed it then, so I'm glad he mentioned it), and thought that I would probably appreciate it even more later in the day once the funeral mass was over and we could have time to breathe. We were having a reception at a local hotel after the interment, and I knew that would probably be as good a time as any for birthday wishes.

All that morning, I was flip-flopping back and forth between being glad that friends (many of whom were oblivious to the day's events) were wishing me "Happy Birthday!" on Facebook, as the messages were a momentary pick-me-up under the circumstances, and irritated that not everyone had noticed my status update saying something about the funeral. 

There were a few, though, who knew just where I was and what I was doing, and offered words of support.

When we got to the church for the funeral, my great-aunt, María (the family calls her Naná) - Oma's sister - came up to me upon her arrival, and hugged me, telling me, "Happy Birthday, mija. I hope you celebrate later today. Go do something fun for yourself. Your grandmother would have wanted that." 

(Mija, by the way, is Spanish - it's actually a contraction of two words, mi hija, which literally translate to "my daughter" but are used as a term of endearment for a younger person in the family. Mija is pronounced kind of like "MEE-ha." My grandmother would say it to me, or my aunts who are of my grandmother's generation, and so forth. Mijo is the same, being a contraction of mi hijo, or "my son," and obviously used for males.)

When Naná told me that, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to go out to dinner with Livie and Andrew later that evening, and I knew just the place. I just had to get through the morning's events. 

When we walked into the church, I suddenly thought, though, that I didn't know how I was going to make it through the morning. Luckily, my cousin Bonnie was right next to me. I had seen her crying silently out of the corner of my eye. I knew then, that I couldn't bear to keep from crying much longer, so I grabbed her hand and held it tighter than I'd ever held anyone's hand before. At some point, I was sure that I was hurting her, and quietly apologized for the vise-like grip. She shook her head and said, "You're not hurting my hand. I need that support." 

She was doing the first reading, and told me later that she needed that hand squeeze just as much as I needed to squeeze her hand. I was so grateful for her calming presence. 

By the way, I did a great job of doing the second reading during the funeral mass. Livie mentioned something later about how calm I sounded, and that it seemed like I spoke in public like I was used to it, and was quite practiced at it - a clear voice ringing out so that everyone could hear.  It was probably the best compliment I'd received in some time. 

However, there was one point during the service - after my reading - when I glanced at my Mom and my Uncle Ralph. The "dam suddenly broke" and I couldn't help it - I started crying - you know that jagged, can't-catch-your-breath type. While Oma was my beloved grandmother, she was their mother. And that thought while looking at the two siblings triggered "the flood." My uncle's wife, my Aunt Gloria was hugging me, and it was such a warm, comforting hug, that I just had to keep crying, like I was meant to keep crying. I remember hearing her ask me, "Are you okay, mija?" and I all could do was whisper a faint, "Yes," and we let go of each other.

After  a couple minutes, I had to ask Livie to reach into her Abuelita's purse (my mom's purse), which was right next to us, wide open, showing a big packet of tissues. "Liv, get me some tissues from Abuelita's purse." 

"Can I just take them? Or should I ask her?" 

"Just take them. She understands."

And the next thing I knew, the service was over. It was both the longest service I'd had to be a part of, but also the quickest - suddenly it was over - though I think it was just about average, as far as a church service goes. 

The interment was quick, once we reached Ft. Bliss National Cemetery. And then off to the hotel for the reception. It was dawning on various family members that it was, in fact, my birthday, and were offering birthday wishes, and sympathy at the same time. It was definitely an odd meshing of "What are the chances?!" sentiments.  

Anyway, we spent a good amount of time at the reception, eating some hors d'oeuvres and visiting with family. And many were asking me what I was planning on doing for my birthday. I told them I wanted to take Andrew and Livie to the steakhouse near where my grandparents lived, the same place I'd eaten with them numerous times. 

One time, a number of years ago, right around my birthday, Andrew, Livie, and I were at my grandparents' for a long weekend (probably Veterans' Day, as that's the day before my birthday). My grandmother had given me birthday money so Andrew and I could eat a meal there. She specifically told me, "And make sure to get dessert, too!" My Uncle Hector was visiting that weekend, too, so he was the Official Livie Babysitter for those couple hours Andrew and I were at the restaurant.

So this steakhouse, The Great American Land & Cattle Company, was the place I wanted to eat that evening of my birthday, that one birthday that shared itself with my grandmother's funeral. 

This steakhouse is on Alabama Street, just past the intersection where we'd turn west onto my grandparents' (former) street. It is SO CLOSE to their former house, we could get there from my grandparents' within just a couple minutes.

 I took this pic Monday morning, the morning of the visitation, the day before the funeral.

I'd been to this restaurant a number of times with my grandparents when they were both still living. We often had the most delicious meals there. They had these Texas-style baked beans, that they call "Texas caviar." They are so delish. I can't think of a time where the meal wasn't prepared just right. 

I had even taken Andrew there once or twice when we visited my grandparents, but Livie had been too young when we were still living in the area. But now I had the chance to take her there, too. 

Here's the exterior of the restaurant. I couldn't get a shot of the whole exterior without getting that parked car, obviously. But I wanted to show that the whole side of the building has that cool mural painted on it. Definitely a West Texas theme, right? (You can click on the pic to get a somewhat bigger view of the pic.)

Well, the place was just like I'd remembered it. And we were fortunate enough to get a table with a spectacular view. 

This picture doesn't do it justice (I'd used my smart phone), but the view is beautiful, especially when the sun goes down. You see all these glittering lights of El Paso (not downtown, though) in the valley (the Franklin Mountains are behind us.)

We'd gotten there just as the sun was tucking itself behind the mountains. (You can see there's still some light in the pic of the restaurant's exterior.) Anyway, I had the filet mignon, medium. So good. Mmmm. Livie asked for the kid's cheeseburger. It was huge. She thought it was delish, by the way. And Andrew? Um, I think he had a sirloin?

We all looked out the window, watching the sky go through all those indescribable shades of blue from periwinkle to midnight blue. We reminisced about Oma, even making a toast. But just our being there, having a good time together, was probably enough to make Oma happy. 

I even ordered dessert, "because Oma would've wanted me to." Liv and I shared a massive slice of cheesecake with strawberries. We even clinked our forks together and said, "To Oma!"

On our way out, I had to snap a pic with my smart phone. Check out the view of the "western" chandelier as I head down the stairs: 

Yep, it's made from antlers! Cool, huh?!

Once we got out to the parking lot, it was dark. Liv and Andrew got into the car, while I walked to the edge of the lot, overlooking the twinkling city. 

I turned around and looked at the Franklin Mountains, "Oma's mountain," now only dark shadows of rock. 

I breathed in the cool night air. With each deep breath, I tried my best to retain it's unique "perfume" in my brain: a mixture of the desert landscape, the dry earth, sage, creosote, cottonwood trees. I had a distinct feeling that "this may be my last time in El Paso," but I hoped not. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. There is something about the Southwest, about El Paso, that smells fragrant like no other place I've ever been. It definitely smells like home. It smells like the desert. I don't know how else to describe it. 

It just smells like home. Stark beauty.

Favorite White Sands Views

For those of you who've been following my blog for a while, you know that I love the Southwest. I love the food, the vistas, the climate (well, not necessarily the heat, but the dryness - the heat is never so bad when there's little perceptible humidity), the activities, the culture - and on and on.

It's been quite a while since I've been back "home" in the Southwest (my grandparents lived there nearly their whole lives, and my mom and uncles were born and raised there). And while it was a solemn occasion that called me back, we did have a couple good days to explore and remember our former home (we'd been stationed in the area during our Air Force years).

After a delicious dinner on Saturday night and a good night's sleep, we had a "free" day on Sunday. We ended up going to the Alamogordo, NM area, where White Sands National Monument is located.

Anyway, I'd like to share some of my favorite views from southern New Mexico - for this post, they'll be from White Sands National Monument.

Here we are, having just arrived at the visitor center. It had been about an hour and a half drive from the El Paso area. Luckily, we'd taken an iPad with us, so Liv had some entertainment on the drive there and back. It was a "chilly" day in the area; it had been in the 50s when we first arrived, hence the jacket.

She was really excited because the last time she'd been here, she was just about 1.5 years old. She didn't remember it, other than what she's seen in the photos I took that day. 

I'm adding this photo, because, well . . . just look at how cool the adobe building looks. Right? Plus, adobe buildings are always comfortably cool in the summer and comfortably warm in the chilly months.

When we first entered the Visitor Center, we'd overheard a dad (who was there with his son about Liv's age) ask the Park Ranger about getting a Junior Park Ranger booklet. I immediately began listening in.

Apparently, at many National Parks/Monuments, kids can get booklets that teach them about the park/monument they're visiting. Once completing the activities in the packet, they get to become a "Junior Park Ranger" at that particular park/monument, even being able to take a junior park ranger oath, getting either a patch or badge, and a certificate.

The White Sands booklet has different activities for different age levels. Liv's age range (5-7 years old, if I remember correctly) was designated by a lizard icon. She was responsible for completing each activity with the lizard icon next to it.

In the booklet, she was able to describe what she was expecting to see (desert plants, white sand, maybe some desert fauna), what mineral the sand crystals were made of (gypsum). She also got to complete a "scavenger hunt" list, where she got to check items off when she saw each item listed (like a yucca plant, a cottonwood tree, an interdune area, creature tracks, and so on), as well as having a spot to write a poem  about something she saw at White Sands, and sketch something she found while hiking. Pretty cool, huh?!

Here she is at the beginning (before we left the visitor center to experience the dunes), answering some questions about how the white sand dunes were formed, as well as answering some questions about local flora.

Here she is, filling out more of her booklet. I think this was the part where she had space to sketch something she found interesting (some buzzing bees pollinating a flowering plant - their buzzing was unexpectedly loud!).

Yep, it's definitely sand and not snow. She kept saying, "It looks so snowy!" Though, because of the various factors (the sun's rays bouncing off the whiteness, for one), she learned that the sand underneath the dry top layer was cool and somewhat damp.

She's observing a "pedestal." The plants at the top of the sand send their roots way, way down to get water, and to keep anchored (so they don't blow away or get "run over" by shifting dunes). The water gets soaked upward toward the plants, wetting the surrounding sand. Well, the wet sand surrounding the roots eventually hardens and forms these "pedestals" when the wind moves the surrounding dry sand around. Voila - after time, a pedestal has formed. Nature's cool, isn't she?

 She's trying to slide down the sand dune. When I was young and my grandparents lived in El Paso, we'd head up to White Sands with my cousins and some aunts and uncles, and we'd sled down the dunes with those disc sleds (then we'd have a picnic afterward - they had a designated picnic area that we hadn't visited on this trip). It was a blast.

I hadn't thought to get one of those sledding discs for Liv on our way to the dunes.

 She is posing with a couple yucca plants and the blue, blue New Mexico sky.

It's sun squint! The white sand is really reflective! And they were facing the sun so I didn't have to aim my camera phone directly into the sun.

And here she is with her Junior Ranger Certificate! She was really proud of having earned it. She was able to get a stamp on it indicating the date she earned it. (I have to go get a frame for it so I can hang it up somewhere.)

Since I have so many photos - and a lot to say about them - I'll split my favorite views and the accompanying commentary into a couple different posts. I'll try to get some of the remaining White Sands/Alamogordo pics, as well as some mountain and/or miscellaneous views in an additional post or two in the next couple days.

On Being Back "Home" in the Southwest

I have to admit that while we were back in El Paso, TX for a sad reason (my grandmother's funeral), the trip did have some highlights.

Since I found myself unexpectedly back home in the Southwest, I took advantage of some free time - Saturday afternoon after we'd checked into lodging on Ft. Bliss and most of the day on Sunday - when we'd had nothing planned.

Now, while almost all of Texas' massiveness is within the Central time zone, El Paso, at the westernmost tip, is in the Mountain time zone. So, of course, when we arrived, it was an hour earlier than we're used to in eastern Iowa (Central).

Needless to say, by the time we had arrived in El Paso, gotten our luggage (having been charged $25 per suitcase = $75 total!!), gotten our rental car, and checked into our quarters (on-post lodging, like a hotel, but cheaper than the "good" rates my family had gotten at the hotel near the airport), we were all quite hungry and ready for dinner.

 We'd just gotten off the plane. Liv was happy to be there.

 This is more or less the view we had from the parking lot. I love these mountains.

So, where would we go when in El Paso? Well, we went to a Mexican restaurant that my grandparents used to take me when I was younger. It's a local chain called Leo's. It's actually been a long, long time since I've been there. I think the last time I went, I'd gone with my grandparents ("Oma" and "Sir Rafa"), my uncle Hector, and a few other relatives.

Well, every time I go to this restaurant, I always get the chicken flautas, which are prepared like tacos (beef, chicken, or another filling inside a corn tortilla that's been fried), but instead of the typical "taco" shape, they're rolled up in the shape of flutes (hence the name flautas, which means "flutes" in Spanish). This dish always comes with refried beans and Spanish rice.

However, I was remembering the last time I'd been at this restaurant. My uncle Hector had ordered the chicken with mole sauce (often made with smoked chiles and chocolate). It's a really tasty Mexican dish. I enjoy it (and the last time I was there with my uncle, he'd let me have a bite of his - it was good!). But since we were in El Paso for a somber event, I needed some "comfort" food. What's my comfort food?

This:

Yep, the chicken flautas. I had to get them. I wouldn't have been satisfied if I'd ordered the chicken with mole sauce (however good it may be), because my comfort food in El Paso (if not my grandmother's homemade tacos) has to be flautas. 

And I was not disappointed. They were delicious; they were as good as I'd remembered. I am still thinking about them. (They looked a lot better than they do in this picture.)

Liv had ordered a kid's special with one beef taco and one enchilada with green chile sauce. Her meal also came with the beans and rice. She devoured it.

 Not the greatest pic, but good enough (the sun had set and the lighting in the restaurant was a bit dim for the iPhone camera).

Andrew? I think he ordered a "create your own combo" with a taco, enchilada, and . . . hmm. Something else I just can't remember.

To top off this delicious meal? Always sopaipillas. They're these delicious pillows of fried dough, puffy and hot, served with honey. You tear off a small corner and pour in a bit of honey and coat the inside of the "pillow." So. Good.

This is a not-so-good pic of the delicious pillows known as sopaipillas. Mmmm. 

After we'd eaten, I'd been chatting with our server. I'd said that my grandparents had taken me to Leo's (I think one of the other locations) numerous times when I was younger. And I always loved the flautas and sopaipillas. We'd laughed when she agreed with me that I probably wouldn't have been satisfied if I'd ordered the chicken with mole, as my "go to" meal was always flautas. And I'd found out that the owner of the car dealership where I'd gotten my vehicle (there in El Paso) was a regular at this restaurant and he always ordered the same thing, every time! (Just like me!)

Anyway, after we'd finished eating, we realized we were all exhausted from traveling and having eaten a filling meal, and the thought of the stress of the days ahead. We immediately went back to on-post lodging, got ready for bed, and settled in for the night.

But before going to sleep, Liv had to do one last thing.

She had to read in bed. (She's borrowing my mini-reading light that clips onto a book.) She and I had gone to the bookstore the day before we'd left. I bought the two of us one book each for the trip. She picked Charlotte's Web.

 In the next day or two, I'll share another exciting adventure we had on this trip back to the Southwest.

A Girl and Her Grandmother

Livie and Abuelita spent time together at Abuelita's piano over the Holiday 2012 season.

Spring Break Adventures Part II

More photos from our Spring Break Adventure!

Abuelita went with us to the Science Center of Iowa on Sunday, because we wanted to see an IMAX movie called "Sea Rex" about the "T-Rex of the Seas."

We had just about enough time before the movie started to look around a little bit; we spent some time letting Livie play afterwards, too. Here are lots of photos.

Livie's pretending to be surprised by the Sea Rex poster.

Posing in front of a natural Iowa landscape in one part of the Science Center's permanent exhibits.

Livie's touching the plasma globe (no flash used) in the permanent "Space" exhibit.

Livie and Abuelita are looking at the plasma globe (flash used, this time).

Livie and Abuelita are "on the news"! They got to pretend to do the weather on TV (along with another kid).

In the IMAX theater, waiting for the movie to start!

After the movie, we let Livie play for a little while. They're putting "produce" on a conveyor belt.

Livie's putting on a puppet show. She's peeking out to say, "Abuelita, are you watching it?"

There's one more batch of photos on its way!

(You can see the Part I photos here.)