Last One

A list, my last one for spring cleaning, of what I should have given up ages ago:

soleares
the blue note
klimt
afterlife
magnolia

Most of you know I take comfort in ambiguity. In other words, the list doesn't mean anything to anyone, but me... unless you read minds, which I believe some of you do, so shshsh.

I'm excited about the prospect of turning ghosts into buried treasure and wonder how I'll ever sleep. Ah, to dream in blank canvases with fresh tubes of paint!

My Kisses....

are so hot, I can make a guy bleed from his nose.

Mustapha dared me to write that, so I apologize to my loyal readers, who expect really mature, errr emotional... somewhat funny.... totally confusing... silly... random blog entries. Oh waaaait a second....

Paisanas

I just found out that my mom never made it to high school. Neither did Mamita A. In those days it was common for Paisa girls to drop out. They'd go find work as seamstresses, cooks, or picked beans in the fields. You can imagine why. At 13, Mamita A said they were lucky to have learned how to read and write. I suppose I knew this, but wasn't prepared to handle the admission. I can't.

A silver lining. Mamita A used to write secret love notes on fruits like mangos to Papito M when they were 13ish. I do believe my mom met my dad around the same age and there were notes.

Mamita

Mamita (Colombian slang for grandma) Adela is in town. She's staying at my uncle's apt 10 blocks away, so of course I went over there to eat. After a fan-f*cking-tastic dinner, my uncle and I asked how she became such a fine cook. Long story short, my great grandfather wasn't around much to care for them financially. A local baker took pity on my great grandmother, Sofia (who I had the distinct honor of meeting again at 14). He commissioned her for some bread, "parba," and patties, "empanadas." Earning quite a reputation that increased orders, Mamita Adela had no choice but to get up at 2am everyday to help prepare food. By Jr high, she mastered all the Zapata secret recipes. Luckily, the nuns loved her, so she was able to get away with cat naps during class. My Mamita is a self-proclaimed spitfire (hot pink hello), even then. I imagine she took over Mamita Sofia's kitchen in no time. Same way she does now-a-days, where ever she goes... We just nod & lick our plates clean.

I

was told last night that I don't commit. That my writing is good and I'm one of their favorites (major shocker), but that I'm holding back. Why am I hiding? So there you have it folks. I can't commit even when undressed.