tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26340542923330625502024-03-13T08:19:51.034-07:00DescubrimientosMy Story, Your Story, y Nuestra HistoriaAn Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-75292345080014354282013-02-20T11:48:00.006-08:002016-10-21T15:33:07.445-07:00The Place Where Dreams Really Do Come True <div style="border: currentColor; text-align: center;">
</div>
<h3 style="border: currentColor; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"No more crying, No more begging, No more hoping. </span></em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><em>Let us go where our dreams really do come true." ~ Aley</em></span></span></h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9sNPoZjStbE/WApptMUfieI/AAAAAAAACQQ/2QkLwkLeWj8kKs7lbmnkdVyFN5pxeLMGwCLcB/s1600/11532_182283456133_3959966_n%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9sNPoZjStbE/WApptMUfieI/AAAAAAAACQQ/2QkLwkLeWj8kKs7lbmnkdVyFN5pxeLMGwCLcB/s1600/11532_182283456133_3959966_n%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hispanics really are a blessed race because we carry in our blood the
passion and desire to push forward and reach our dreams and ideals; so much so
that the Latin diaspora has extended to every corner of the planet.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our history is delicious just like our food. It is a saga that is full of tales
that have navigated the rivers of time, originating in ancient Mesopotamia and
cultivated in the Iberian Peninsula to later get mixed up with the legends of
the first Native Americans and with the wild customs of Africa. This is how we
came to be like a salad of many colors and many flavors. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As all strong races are, we are a product of many sufferings and stumbles in
our evolution. We have all heard the stories of our forefathers who had to
fight with tooth and nail to find a better life in this country. Even today we
are sometimes soldiers in battles without victories.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I understand this because I am just like you. Sometimes you feel like a lost
swallow desperately searching for her Capistrano. Life can often push you down
just when you think you are making progress. In these moments, like the
scariest horror movie, your thoughts take you to dark places. This is when you
need to remember that these thoughts create your destiny.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p>Do not allow yourself to become a castaway lost in the sea of your own
thoughts. Rather tame that savage beast! Take it by the horns and program your
mind to all that is positive. Tell yourself that you are STRONG, you are
CAPABLE, you are INTELLIGENT, you are GRATEFUL, you are LOVED, and you are SEXY!
<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Every day you are given a clean slate where you can write your own story,
your own legacy. Our daily walk does not occur in a poppy field. Rather it is
an arid desert that can only be nurtured with positive steps, with friendly
smiles, with noble acts, and with gestures of love. It all depends on you.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And just like that, we can start planting seeds that will grow and flower beautifully
regardless of where in the world we are. This is how we can transform our
desert into a lovely, nurturing and verdant garden. And when we have won the
battle with ourselves, we will put an end to the crying, the begging, and the longing
and will embark on the trip to our own Eden.</span> <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-56027033621326409742013-02-20T11:48:00.004-08:002016-10-21T15:32:26.289-07:00The Place Where Dreams Really Do Come True <div style="border: currentColor; text-align: center;">
</div>
<h3 style="border: currentColor; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"No more crying, No more begging, No more hoping. </span></em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><em>Let us go where our dreams really do come true." ~ Aley</em></span></span></h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9sNPoZjStbE/WApptMUfieI/AAAAAAAACQQ/2QkLwkLeWj8kKs7lbmnkdVyFN5pxeLMGwCLcB/s1600/11532_182283456133_3959966_n%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9sNPoZjStbE/WApptMUfieI/AAAAAAAACQQ/2QkLwkLeWj8kKs7lbmnkdVyFN5pxeLMGwCLcB/s1600/11532_182283456133_3959966_n%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hispanics really are a blessed race because we carry in our blood the
passion and desire to push forward and reach our dreams and ideals; so much so
that the Latin diaspora has extended to every corner of the planet.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our history is delicious just like our food. It is a saga that is full of tales
that have navigated the rivers of time, originating in ancient Mesopotamia and
cultivated in the Iberian Peninsula to later get mixed up with the legends of
the first Native Americans and with the wild customs of Africa. This is how we
came to be like a salad of many colors and many flavors. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As all strong races are, we are a product of many sufferings and stumbles in
our evolution. We have all heard the stories of our forefathers who had to
fight with tooth and nail to find a better life in this country. Even today we
are sometimes soldiers in battles without victories.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I understand this because I am just like you. Sometimes you feel like a lost
swallow desperately searching for her Capistrano. Life can often push you down
just when you think you are making progress. In these moments, like the
scariest horror movie, your thoughts take you to dark places. This is when you
need to remember that these thoughts create your destiny.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p>Do not allow yourself to become a castaway lost in the sea of your own
thoughts. Rather tame that savage beast! Take it by the horns and program your
mind to all that is positive. Tell yourself that you are STRONG, you are
CAPABLE, you are INTELLIGENT, you are GRATEFUL, you are LOVED, and you are SEXY!
<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Every day you are given a clean slate where you can write your own story,
your own legacy. Our daily walk does not occur in a poppy field. Rather it is
an arid desert that can only be nurtured with positive steps, with friendly
smiles, with noble acts, and with gestures of love. It all depends on you.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And just like that, we can start planting seeds that will grow and flower beautifully
regardless of where in the world we are. This is how we can transform our
desert into a lovely, nurturing and verdant garden. And when we have won the
battle with ourselves, we will put an end to the crying, the begging, and the longing
and will embark on the trip to our own Eden.</span> <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-78877713095868277642012-07-26T15:53:00.002-07:002016-10-21T13:06:40.338-07:00Caerle Bien a Todo el Mundo - La Otra Cara de La Moneda<br />
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<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>“Algunas veces ganamos
y otras, perdemos. No esperes que te devuelvan lo que has dado. No esperes que
reconozcan tu esfuerzo, que descubran tu genio, que entiendan tu amor.”</em></span></h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
~ Paulo
Coelho<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aV339LOzCT4/WAp1RAXAT3I/AAAAAAAACRY/EUmkB1geS5EWnCqnsOd7ek0Q2fsGon-jQCLcB/s1600/DSC_0227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aV339LOzCT4/WAp1RAXAT3I/AAAAAAAACRY/EUmkB1geS5EWnCqnsOd7ek0Q2fsGon-jQCLcB/s320/DSC_0227.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p></h3>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Aunque leas muchos libros de como caerle bien a
los demás, como mi favorito de Dale Carnegie, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Como Hacer Amigos e Influir Sobre Las Personas</i>”, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>es inevitable que en esta vida te darás golpes
contra muros humanos imposibles de penetrar.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Algunas personas tenemos el complejo de querer
ser moneda de oro para todos. Queremos que nos quieran, que nos aprecien. Somos
seres sociables y queremos caer en gracia a todo el que encontremos en nuestro
camino. Desgraciadamente esa es una aspiración imposible de cumplir y bien
removida de la realidad. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Primero, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>porque hay personas que no conectan desde el
principio y jamás podrán hacerlo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cuando
se trata de personalidades compatibles,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>existen dos efectos que causan antipatía, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>el efecto agua y aceite que todos conocemos o
el efecto magnético repulsivo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Haz
notado que dos imanes de la misma carga cuando se tratan de juntar causan una fuerza
de repulsión tan poderosa que no es posible unirlos por mucho tiempo? Si esto
ocurre en la naturaleza porque no ha de ocurrir en los seres humanos?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">La verdad es que hay muchas razones por las
cuales no le caerás bien a alguien. A veces es tu propia culpa, pero a veces
simplemente es un poder natural de<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>repulsión que no puedes controlar. Tantas veces he hecho todo lo posible
por caerle bien a una persona que tiene una carga repulsiva hacia mí. Cuando
esto ocurre, me posee un deseo desafiante de vencer a esa fuerza maléfica de
antipatía. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inmediatamente empiezo a usar
todas mis armas de encanto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He intentado
charlar con el/ella, darle regarlos, festejarlo, invitarlo a un café, etc…y nada
funciona y termino frustrada y aborreciendo <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a esa persona tanto como ella a mi creando una
atmosfera aun mas hostil. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He pasado mucho tiempo pensando y tratando de descifrar
porque esa persona no me quiere, porque no puede ser mi amigo. Esculcaba todos
mis defectos, afectando mi autoestima.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Y
un día me di cuenta que estaba errada, que no soy la moneda de oro del
proverbio famoso. Si lo fuera no tendría que hacer que nadie me quiera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nuestro brillo vienen de adentro y no todos
pueden ver nuestro valor. Por eso no puedes permitir que <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>interacciones negativas <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>con otras personas te hagan polvo y cenizas.
No es que no tengas cosas que corregir en tu manera de tratar a los demás.
Siempre podemos cambiar nuestro comportamiento, ser mejores escuchadores y
comunicadores, tener mayor empatía, comprensión, humor, y amor. Pero no debemos
de castigarnos por tener nuestra propia y única personalidad.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Cada quien posee ciertas características
personales que le van a caer bien a algunas personas y caerle mal a otras. Eso
es algo que debemos absorber porque <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tratar de caerle a bien a todos no solo es un
ejercicio en futilidad sino también es un desgaste inmenso de todos tus recursos
internos y puede llegar a paralizarte socialmente. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Cuando pienso en las personas a las cuales
admiro no pienso en súper estrellas<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>o
héroes del mundo farandulero.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Las
personas que realmente me inspiran son aquellas que ejercen su personalidad, sus
creencias, sus carácter sin importar quien esta de acuerdo o no, quien les
quiere y quien no. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aunque no este
necesariamente de acuerdo con ellos, me causa una enorme impresión cuando
alguien navega contra la corriente de la opinión popular. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Es difícil pensar que no le caes bien a ciertas
personas o que tienes mucho que mejorar en tu comportamiento. Especialmente
cuando deseas ser una persona que motiva e inspira pero debes de seguir hacia
adelante sin dejar de seguir tus metas y de cumplir tu propósito. No trates de
entender porque esas personas no te quieren. Más bien trátalas con respeto y
entiende que algunas personas son agua para tu fuego. No debemos forzar la
entrada en corazones que no nos abren la puerta.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nuestro tiempo sobre el planeta es demasiado
corto como para ponernos a construir puentes que no llevan a ningún lado.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Deja de ser quien los demás quieren que
seas<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>y<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>date permiso a ser tu mismo, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gústele a quien le guste! No seas orgulloso ni
soberbio, simplemente entiende que no encajas en todo lugar ni en todo corazón.
Más bien enfócate en esos corazones que si se abren con gusto para recibirte.
Estas son las personas que pertenecen en tu vida. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Como dice un dicho, “no te preocupes demasiado
por lo que dicen de ti, ni siquiera Dios ha logrado caerle bien a todo el mundo”.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Así que cuando te sientas rechazado
recuerda que te encuentras en muy buena compañía. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="ES-CO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-CO;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></o:p></span></div>
An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-91556730290626244462012-06-14T20:39:00.003-07:002016-10-21T10:02:16.587-07:00The Safest Place in the Whole World<h3>
</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jvdq96MsiKM/WApEh7SQ_4I/AAAAAAAACO4/hurz-Ut7630C4riuYJoT0SccJJn8WlucACLcB/s1600/mom%2Band%2BI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jvdq96MsiKM/WApEh7SQ_4I/AAAAAAAACO4/hurz-Ut7630C4riuYJoT0SccJJn8WlucACLcB/s320/mom%2Band%2BI.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Deep in the night when you lie in your
bed <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Do you whisper to God and ask Him why?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And she sees the little girl far away in her bed
<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">With the covers pulled up around her head<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And she smiles through the pain <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When He answers 'you will be together again.”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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</h3>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The thunder in the distance
breaks the silence of this room, but it doesn’t scare me. It does take me back
to a time long ago when everything was different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a little girl in the middle of a stormy
night I ran to my mother’s bed and hugged her as hard as I could. And at that
precise moment all of the monsters of the dark would dissipate. My mother’s bed
was the safest place in the whole world. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">With the passing of my mother,
that place is no more. I arrive at the hospital just a few minutes after her
heart stops beating, that same heart that beat to the rhythms of my own, the
heart that gave me life. The bohemian gypsy woman who lived her life recklessly,
who just wanted to be free of ties that bind and suffocate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was highly misunderstood and unfocused. I
feel guilty because I should have tried harder to understand the challenges
that she faced. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had become harder and
harder to be around her. I didn’t like being pulled into the maze of confusion
and sadness that was her mind. Most times I just left her to figure it out on
her own. Other times I got frustrated and angry. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">She lays there on her death bed
and I don’t recognize the person who authored my days. Her entire body swollen,
the invasive hospital tubes still inside of her, and I can imagine how she must have
wanted desperately to rip them out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
touch her hand, but that cold stiff hand is not hers anymore. She is gone forever. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am stunned by the reality, by
the phenomena of death. My youngest sister is also here in this place of darkness.
I know her pain and I want to comfort her, but I am speechless. My mind is
working hard to remember my mother’s life. I want to know that she is leaving
us because her mission here is accomplished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Questions are firing in my head, but I don’t have the answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All that I really know is that she will never
come back.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that I would miss her laughter. When she allowed herself to relax and forget her troubles she was happy and silly, at least for
a little while. I knew I would miss dancing our crazy dances in the middle of
the living room whenever a Carlos Vives song came on. I would miss her free
spirit and her sense of adventure. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
remember a time when I was eleven years old and she took us on an expedition in
Santa Marta, Colombia. We had to walk through a rocky shore near the ocean that
led to a pathway up a sea side mountain where we found a beautiful historic
castle. It is thanks to her that I have memories like these which otherwise
would have only lived in the fairy tales of my imagination. It wasn't that she provided any fairy dust.
By no means did she try to be positive or uplifting or strong, but if the moment was
right and her mood was good, she would occasionally show me the magic that
lived within her. She would be loving and motherly and sweet. During those
times I knew who she really was inside. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Another thing I know is that I
would never again listen to the stories from her childhood and of the way life
used to be in the old days when women cooked outdoors in iron pots over the
fire and told each other tales that have been passed down from generation to
generation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She also talked about the
people she loved, and the people she hated and even those that hurt her beyond
repair. Her heart would not let go of those feelings and she would not let us forget either. Maybe she wanted me to pass those stories down to my children. I probably will, but in a different form. I will make them understand where we come from. They will learn about the life and rhythms of those that
came before that form the history of our family.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the hospital room I look at
her and can no longer find her. I want to catch a glimpse of her essence once
again, but it is gone. I used to think that somehow she
would come to me in dreams, but I have never seen her again. So I look for her some
nights when I try to find her among the stars. I know she is in heaven now,
but still I look for confirmation. Sometimes on windy nights I think she dances
among the trees along with the mystic beings of my childhood dreams; the kind that
spread light as they move, illuminating the world inside. I wonder if in the
other world she has been granted the wishes of her heart. I realize that our greatest wish is to be happy and I know that wish has been
fulfilled in her. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My mother was a creature of the
ocean. She loved the water and the sun on her skin and I wonder maybe if I
look hard enough I will see her swimming alongside the dolphins in a clear blue
sea, no longer afraid of the sharks or the whales. They are her friends now. A
place like the ocean could hold the vast expanse of her spirit. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Other times I think I will find
her in the dark, but then I realize that I won't because she already passed through there and
came out on the other side. The place of skulls and carcasses
is not scary anymore because my heart tells me that it's just a pit stop where we
go to dump the sorrows of our world before continuing on the journey of light without those horrid things
weighing us down. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My mother is now blending in with
the inhabitants of the world of love. She has stopped fighting. She lives
in a new place where she can be who she was always meant to be. She is
beautiful, she is happy, and she is free with a new mission in her heart and a new dance to her steps.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My thoughts are interrupted by another
large boom of thunder, and I am brought back into the present time. I am not
scared because I am back in the safety of the bed, only now it is my own bed and I am
the mommy. The safest place in the whole world now lives inside of me.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In remembrance of my
crazy, unique, adventurous mother, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eva Luisa Qui<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">ñ</span>ones<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> - </span>October 9,
1946 – July 12, 2011<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Your Children Love You<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-52076625094101992372012-05-27T21:04:00.000-07:002016-10-21T14:54:44.157-07:00Sex and the Single Mom II<h3>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUKDc8WRwsQ/T8L4U52ebmI/AAAAAAAAAG8/8NdreEOvj48/s1600/225454_10150174893996134_658111133_6929105_5512556_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></h3>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUKDc8WRwsQ/T8L4U52ebmI/AAAAAAAAAG8/8NdreEOvj48/s1600/225454_10150174893996134_658111133_6929105_5512556_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AGQlZL8IYZk/WApeBRYdKzI/AAAAAAAACPU/lqVrC_hl5_MXGeNdCO9l-oaiFZMFRO-vwCLcB/s1600/tumblr_luaz5bE8LF1qarjnpo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AGQlZL8IYZk/WApeBRYdKzI/AAAAAAAACPU/lqVrC_hl5_MXGeNdCO9l-oaiFZMFRO-vwCLcB/s200/tumblr_luaz5bE8LF1qarjnpo1_1280.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUKDc8WRwsQ/T8L4U52ebmI/AAAAAAAAAG8/8NdreEOvj48/s1600/225454_10150174893996134_658111133_6929105_5512556_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</a>“<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><em>A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master...”</em></span> ~ <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11679.Elizabeth_Gilbert">Elizabeth
Gilbert</a>, <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3352398">Eat,
Pray, Love</a><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="color: white;">There he was on my computer
screen with his beautiful bright smile and big brown eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was handsome but not in the obvious kind of
way. It was the type of good looks that radiate from the inside; the kind that
you don’t see at first glance, but like those stereo-gram pictures that you have
to focus on to see, his splendor is visible just below the surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To this day I still don’t know why Evelyn
decided to point Mau out to me when there were so many others to choose from. She
must have seen something special that I was not yet able to see. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I had been emotionally depleted
by my latest rejection so I was reluctant to try again, but I remembered
the lyrics of that beautiful Rascal Flatts song, Bless the Broken Road. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Every long lost dream led me
to where you are. Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars, pointing
me on my way into your loving arms.”</span></i><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I thought,
this is my broken road. I have to keep pushing through. So I responded to Mau’s
email where he had simply said “hello.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He seemed like a modest, sweet, happy, and kind
guy. Before long he called me and that night we talked for hours. I was still
not hopeful because I had been wounded by my last online dating experience, but
I liked the sound of his voice. It is a manly, but sweet soothing voice. It has
a calming effect on me. He was also very respectful in his conversation, never
once mentioning sex or inappropriate topics. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Right away we decided to meet personally. I wasn’t
willing to invest a lot of time talking with someone who could turn out to be a
disappointment in person. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He understood
my feelings so we made a date to go out on a chilly, windy October night. I
took the kids to the babysitter’s house and then I came home and put on my prettiest
red cocktail dress. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We had decided to meet at a restaurant in Clermont, the
town where I lived, so I got there and parked my car by the back of the
building. I was excited to meet him, but I didn’t have very high hopes. I
thought at least I would find a friend in him. I walked around to the front of
the building. Then I saw him standing by his car holding a single red rose. When
he saw me his face lit up as if the sun had just come out over the horizon. His
bright white smile greeted me and immediately made me feel comfortable. Then
came a great big hug. He was very formal and looked older than his age because
of the way he was dressed in a sports jacket and slacks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was immediately impressed by his charming personality.
We had plenty to talk about on the way to the restaurant in Orlando where he was
taking me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived at a beautiful
Mediterranean Village with a Venice style canal, gondolas and lovely piazzas. This
was a beautiful and enchanting place for a date. We had dinner at an Italian
restaurant that was too romantic for words complete with opera singers that serenaded
us as we ate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite the beautiful atmosphere and the great food, the most
fun was to be able to pour my heart out to this stranger whom I had just met
and who seemed to understand me. There was a look in his eyes that was far
removed from any other I had ever seen. He wasn’t evaluating me or trying to
seduce me, or even trying to impress me. He just seemed to be telling me <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">YOU CAN BE YOURSELF…THERE IS NOTHING WRONG
WITH YOU…YOU ARE GREAT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t verbally say these words, but
everything about him from his demeanor to his way of looking at me screamed it
loud and clear. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t the typical
first date where the man is full of compliments in the hopes that he’s going to
get rewarded later. No, this one was different. There was an honesty that
emanated from him. A sincere appreciation of who I am. He was a good listener,
but also knew how to respond at the appropriate moments. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our conversation was full of stories from our lives. We made
each other laugh. Yes…that’s right he actually found me funny and he was pretty
silly himself which is on the top of my list of must have qualities in a man. I
am a story teller and he is a great listener, a match made in heaven! I didn’t
know it yet, but I had just found my soul mate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It all happened on one of those wonderful nights when the
wind blows wildly and full of magic. The kind of magic that calms your heart
and transports your mind into a world of dreams. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want the night to end and by now I
felt that I could trust him enough to invite him into my house for my special
apple cinnamon tea. We sat on the love seat in my beautiful back porch. My house
was located on a hill so we could see the twinkling lights of the town below
and that intoxicating wind brought us closer together. The moment was ripe for
romance and he looked into my eyes and the sweet aura of his stare overwhelmed
me. The first kiss came slowly and soft. His fingers swept gently through my
hair and my first feeling was not passion, but warmth and comfort like coming
home after a long ordeal. Or like a hot cup of soup in cold weather. I had
never known this feeling before and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We kissed and we hugged for a little
while, but the hands only traveled to my hair, my arms, my face, and even my
own hands, but never to any of the inappropriate places. He never once did
anything disrespectful and I was so grateful for it. He showed me right there
and then that he was a true gentleman. Soon he kissed me on the hands and said
good bye and thanked me for a wonderful night. I was left with a strange
sensation of calm contentment, but also I was a little scared. I wasn’t feeling
the type of chemistry I thought I was supposed to feel. It was something
different all together. It was a gentle feeling without expectations, a cozy shelter,
and a pleasant mellow peace. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">They say there is an eerie calm before a storm is about
to hit. It wasn’t long before I realized that I was about to be ravaged by a
force that was beyond my control. For the first time in my life I would get to experience
romantic love in its full and awesome power. But it crept up on me so slowly
that I didn’t even know it was happening until it slapped me in the face. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Three months later I found myself in a relationship and suffering from the unforeseeable
consequences of meeting this wonderful soul. I had become addicted to him. It
all began when Mau bestowed upon me a hallucinogenic dose of something I never
had before or ever dreamed I would ever have. A thunderous love, an
unprecedented amount of adoration, of attention, of passion, of incredible excitement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cup was filled to overflowing and yet I
craved him like a junkie. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He became my drug and when he began to withhold it from me I began having
withdrawal symptoms, getting sick, feeling crazy, and upset. I was resentful of
him for encouraging my addiction in the first place but now refusing to dish
out the good stuff in the heady amounts that I required. I knew he would give
me all that intense attention again at some point and he did, but it wasn’t as
free as it used to be. He had a life, things to do, children, work, etc…and so
did I, but I was the one who was losing control of myself. When it came to
love, I had been living on crumbs all of my life, from my parents to my
boyfriends to my ex-husband. I had never had anyone give me the full banquet like Mau
did and naturally I became infatuated. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, the object of my affection was becoming withdrawn from me. He
wasn’t used to all of that adoration and neediness either. He looked at me as
someone much different than the one he met. As if I had misrepresented myself.
I could hardly blame him. I mean I was a mess. I broke every rule of dating. It
was too much too soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was pathetic
and unrecognizable even in my own eyes. So I reached the final destination of
my infatuation. I had lost myself in someone else and by doing so I had made
myself scary and undesirable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I knew that he loved me because he showed me in so many different ways. He
was always trying to take care of me and made sacrifices to make my life
better. He would also tell me every day how he felt, but I wanted him to be
like he was in the beginning when we were inseparable, but I wasn’t making it
easy for him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For my own sanity I tried
to end the relationship by breaking up with him, telling him I never wanted to
hear from him again. I changed my phone number and erased my connections with
him, but he genuinely loved me and therefore he would find me and once again we
would fall into each other, but it wasn’t long before we would start the same
pattern of neediness and withdrawal. Our relationship died a slow death over a
period of years and despite that, we became irrevocably encrusted in each other’s
heart.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ySVMsoS55Ug/USzYFvd0w9I/AAAAAAAAAIg/giPUEUGo9xo/s1600/28470_400082961133_2580725_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"></span></a><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I moved away from the city </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xDhnLnOPU0Q/WApfRkauXsI/AAAAAAAACPg/RuETVG2tfsYcrPLg5W8g-V-b9l7wq_EGQCLcB/s1600/39044_415630991133_6894076_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xDhnLnOPU0Q/WApfRkauXsI/AAAAAAAACPg/RuETVG2tfsYcrPLg5W8g-V-b9l7wq_EGQCLcB/s320/39044_415630991133_6894076_n.jpg" width="297" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">where we met and our relationship was over, but
I will never regret having met him because he is truly my soul mate in the
sense that he broke me apart and showed me my weaknesses. He reached deep
inside my soul and accepted me as I am. He showed me that I deserve to eat at
the banquet table instead of subsisting on crumbs. He broke my heart, but in a
good way because in the breaking, my life was forever transformed, bringing me
closer to God. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you Mau wherever you are. You were my hero and you left me flashes
of magic, of light, of love. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe someday on
some windy night we will meet again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To be continued…<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
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An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-56941778453432602442012-01-08T16:07:00.000-08:002016-10-21T11:20:41.273-07:00Sex and The Single Mom<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>“Profound desire, true desire is the desire to be close to someone.”</em></span><br />
~ Paulo Coelho</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XrrcS1kce48/WApcNhWUULI/AAAAAAAACPI/TscjqIivDOMpCOUCP0IEgz_sO85IoBJaQCLcB/s1600/eros-ramazzotti-e-marica-pellegrinelli1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XrrcS1kce48/WApcNhWUULI/AAAAAAAACPI/TscjqIivDOMpCOUCP0IEgz_sO85IoBJaQCLcB/s200/eros-ramazzotti-e-marica-pellegrinelli1.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Yes they are out there, the Good, the Bad, and the “OH NO YOU DIDN’T!!! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Vultures, wolfs, confused, misguided, irresponsible maniacs? Oh yes, you wouldn’t believe me if I pointed them out to you. They look like normal, nice, guys. Some of them are even famous. But there is a dark side that I know oh too well. I have to admit that I know what to expect most of the time, but the “oh no you didn’t continues to shock the hell out of me to this day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Don’t get me wrong, there are some good ones out there too. Those that elevate you to the highest dimensions of love, respect, friendship and admiration; those that bring your dreams to life. They allow you to believe that the fairy tale really does exist. But beware of those that cast a light so bright that the shadows they leave behind are too difficult to deal with. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">A young woman starts out in life believing in fairy dust, the magic of love and the knight in shining armor. When a man comes along who slightly resembles him or convinces us that he is in fact our knight, we marry him. We are young and in love, so we get a house, a min-van, and have children. Then one day, when you least expect it the knight’s armor turns to rust and your castle in the clouds collapses. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Divorce is a horrid, repelling, gruesome thing that happens every day to a lot of us. I wish it wouldn’t have happened to me, but it did. There was no way around it; there was no way over or under it. The only way was through it. As they say, “if you’re going through hell, keep movin!” Well, I did and I felt I had lost the love of my life, my partner, my knight. But I also felt that love had betrayed me. Was it really love or something else in disguise? Was I too young to understand what love really is? Had I done something so horrible to deserve this? Those were some of the questions that I asked. I also told myself that I hadn’t been good enough, that I should have tried harder, and that I should have held on. Let’s face it, divorce makes you feel like a big fat loser.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My reaction was that if there was something so wrong with me that I was rejected by the man I had known and loved for 15 years of my life then I would have to make myself a better me. I had to pick myself up, shake it all off, and move forward. After all, I had three children to think about. I looked at their beautiful faces and I knew they needed me to smile and be happy so that they could continue to be children, free and innocent from all this turmoil and heartache.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So I raced through that hell and during that time I cried, I screamed and I looked above and asked God why me? But when it was all over I came out the other side feeling happy, confident, and grateful for my life and my babies. I focused on my health, my emotional and spiritual well-being. After all, God knows my heart and who I am. He knows that I never stopped loving. He also knows that I gave all I could give. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So once I felt ready, I decided to give dating a try. After all what could I lose? It would be fun to be romanced by a man again. There was so much to look forward to; the first date, the butterflies in my tummy, the first kiss, the wining and dining, the flowers. Sigh! I was excited about all of it! However, being a single mom with not one, not two, but three kids all under eight years old would make it difficult to meet someone out there in this big wide world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Well, we live in the 21st century, the age of technology, so why not try meeting someone online? Hesitant as I was, I decided to try a dating site geared towards Christian singles. That sounded pretty safe to me. At least, they would be nice, honest, Christian men right? So I set up my profile with some of the best pics I had taken on my cell phone. I had a lot of fun with that new phone camera technology. When I checked my mails the next day, I found so many responses that I was overwhelmed! How cool is this? I have hundreds of men to choose from. And they were all so complimentary towards me, saying I was pretty and cute and so many more wonderful things. That was a new experience for me. I ate it all up. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">After many emails, I finally connected with a man that seemed to have a lot in common with me. We progressed from the email to the phone. Unfortunately we lived 200 miles away from each other, but that didn’t stop us from becoming very close. Our phone relationship was getting kind of serious. We would talk in the morning, during lunch and at night before bedtime. I never knew I had so much to talk about with one person, but we never ran out of things to say. Well inevitably the day came when we decided to personally meet. I had to come down to Miami to visit my sister, so we decided to meet that weekend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Little did I know that my first “OH NO YOU DIDN’T!” was about to happen. I arrived in Miami and stayed at my sister’s home. Right away I started sprinkling fairy dust everywhere. I was Cinderella about to meet Prince Charming at the ball. So of course, since there was no fairy god mother to give me a glimmering outfit and glass slippers, I made myself as stunning as I could while wondering if he was going to like me. I knew he liked the inner me, but would he be physically attracted to me? I wasn’t worried whether I would like him because, after all, I am not a shallow girl. If I like your personality, I will probably like you in the flesh too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Well, I showed up at the restaurant in my fabulous red dress and I saw him waiting for me at the table. He seemed happy to see me and relieved at the same time. He was no Antonio Banderas, but he was good looking enough. Not very tall, café con leche complexion, and beautiful big eyes (no surprise there). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Big hug, kiss on the cheek, and a glass of wine later, he asked me for a kiss on the lips. Ufffff…the moment we’ve been waiting for after three months of a phone relationship. Sprinkle some more fairy dust under the moonlit night over Miami, and magic happens. A spectacular highly anticipated juicy kiss and suddenly everything is spinning. I am dizzy with emotion. Now he felt that he couldn’t wait a moment longer to be alone with me so that he could have me close and spend some "quality time" together so he proposed we skipped dinner. I was too overwhelmed to eat anyway so naive little me said, “of course, why not.” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In the car on our way to our next stop we talked, held hands, admired each other, as happy as can be. Suddenly I realized we were parked in front of a hotel room! But wait a second, “what do you think is going to happen tonight?” “What you and I want baby! You know you want it. I want you so badly!” What?? Didn’t I meet this guy on a Christian web site? Wasn’t he supposed to be safe? Did I want this? YES I DID! Did I need this? HELL YES! I wanted to say yes, but then what have the previous three months been all about? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This was about to turn into nothing but a booty call. All the meaning behind our relationship would be gone. He would hate me and I would hate myself in the morning. The answer was NO, but that lead to problems and arguments. Believe me I am no prude, but this was too much too soon. This was supposed to be something meaningful, not a one night stand. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">He finally did take me home, but I felt defeated. Somehow I knew he would never call me back and I was right. I have never heard from him again. Three months of my life wasted. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I cried for a long time after that. It had been a big blow to my ego. I didn’t know that this scenario was typical in the dating world. If I had given in and had sex with him that night, he would have repudiated me just the same because I would have been too easy. I’m sure that if I had lived in the same city he would have continued to try until he got what he wanted. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The difference between being a single mom and just a single girl in the city is that men look at the single mom as easy prey and at the single girl as someone who might be more difficult to get. In my conversations with men over the years, I have learned that they view us as desperate, lonely women who are “dying to get some.” Yes I know it’s pretty disgusting the way some men think, but it is a crude reality that our world is full of these ugly stereotypes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">After this disenchanting experience, I was reluctant to try dating again. But a friend convinced me that I should take out the nail with another nail (un clavo saca otro clavo). This is a very popular saying in Hispanic culture. So I tried another personals site that was free through my email (I no longer trusted the Christian site). My friend Evelyn loved to go through the profiles with me because she thought it was fun shopping for men. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">One day I was making us some tea at home and I hear her scream from my computer, “oh my Apple come and see this!!” So naturally, I run to see what she’s so excited about and there on my computer screen was the picture of a man that was about to change the course of my destiny.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">(To be continued…)</span><br />
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An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-7450886590610768952011-06-15T14:10:00.000-07:002016-10-21T12:54:29.096-07:00A Message From my Mother - Evelyn's Story<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>"In the presence of love, miracles happen."</em></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><em>~ Robert Shuller</em></span></h3>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A0b4M-YW0yI/WApyY-ZHsuI/AAAAAAAACRM/l4hsuiUnKbQYs9_SIVsvAhPPqkcxrboawCLcB/s1600/angels11c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A0b4M-YW0yI/WApyY-ZHsuI/AAAAAAAACRM/l4hsuiUnKbQYs9_SIVsvAhPPqkcxrboawCLcB/s320/angels11c.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 130%;">Sitting in that dark room by myself and surrounded by boxes, I was frozen in fear. Those horrid boxes beckoned me to open them. I could hear them call out to me, whispering my name. They said, <em>"Evelyn open us. Open us now...we have something to show you."</em> But my shattered voice overpowered them. <em>"I don't want to!!! Please don't make me!! You contain memories, pain, anger, tears that will hurt my eyes, my head, my heart, my entire being!!"</em> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">And yet those boxes were relentless, <em>''Evelyn open us! Evelyn open us!"</em> As I struggled with the decision, I felt my hot tears stain my face once again. Why does pain love me so much? Why does heartbreak visit me so often? Where is my happily ever after? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I wanted to get up off this dusty floor and kick those stupid boxes, shut them up once and for all. But no no no they were too compelling. They were all that I had left of my mother. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">The past few months had been full of misery and this was the last thing I wanted to do. Go through my mother's stuff was to much right now. I did not want to release this Pandora's box of unbearable emotions that I wasn't ready to deal with yet. The author of my days on this earth, my beloved mother had passed away and all that she left behind were the contents of these menacing boxes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I looked above and begged God to help me get through this horror. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">My mother had battled Lou Garrett's disease for a long time, but the end had finally come and she had lost the fight. I had been there for the final days of her life. I spent all my resources, everything I had to take cares of her, however, I was far away when I received the news that she was close to death. I rushed to the airport to catch the next flight to New York to be with her, to see her alive for the last time. But as I reached the airport gate, my strength failed me and I collapsed . I couldn't feel my body. The bitter cold of the city penetrated through my scantly clothed skin. I was about to lose my mother, my best friend! My entire being scattered like broken glass and grief overtook me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">And now here I was in that dark scary room. I was still weak when I heard those boxes say to me, <em>"come on Evelyn, you can do it! Open us!"</em> As I touched the cardboard, I prepared for the worse. I reached into the first box and took out an object wrapped in newspaper. As I unravelled the paper, the object became visible and what I saw took my breath away. It was a beautiful porcelain angel. Ohhhh...the tears that filled my eyes, but it wasn't sadness, it was joy! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I set the angel down and reached into the box again and to my astonishment another angel emerged. And then another, and another, and another until I was surrounded by the angels. These precious statuettes reminded me of my mother's love. And then the miracle happened...her voice whispered into my heart..."<em>I am OK and I love you! I am in a wonderful place and I will see you again. These angels I have given to you to remind you that God loves you and protects you always." </em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">The warmth and the love that filled that room overtook me in that instant and brought an immense joy to my heart and the fear was finally gone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">My mother's angels are now all over my apartment and every time I see them, I hear my mother's voice in my heart, "<em>Death is not the end, it's only the beginning. Love abides in the realm of the Spirit and it is everlasting."</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Author's Note: </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Evelyn is a real woman. (<em>but I have changed her name because I have not seeked her permission to write her story here.</em>) I befriended her when I lived in Central Florida. She told me her story and asked me to write it down for an article in her church newsletter. These events really happened as told to me by Evelyn. I have attempted here to describe Evelyn's experience as a writer in my own words. I hope this story brings hope to those that are grieving and I especially dedicate it to my good friend Martha B. Suarez who has lost her mother recently. Love and the Spirit survive and death cannot overtake them . </span></div>
An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-58019917190246587152010-08-26T13:23:00.000-07:002016-10-21T12:19:58.558-07:00Deli-Cioso<h3 align="left" style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Asómate al balcón para que veas esta parranda<br />Asómate al balcón para que veas quien te canta<br />Asómate al balcón pa’ que veas tus amigos<br />Asómate al balcón pa; que veas que vacilón...</span></em></h3>
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“<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Deliiiicioso, exquisito, sabrosísimo! Esta por la maceta!” Le digo a Chef Sammy usando el lenguaje vulgo de mi adorada Borinquen. Mi paladar se transporta a ese lugar que conozco muy bien en mis sueños y en mis memorias. El arroz con gandules me sabe a pimiento verde, a sofrito y a mucho amor. Mis sentidos reconocen el sabor a palmas jugando con el viento, a arena, a mar, a calderas en el fuego, a tambor y guitarra, y sobre todo a pura isla…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Todo comenzó hace dos semanas cuando por una serie de eventos conocí a Chef Sammy y su corillo. Alguna vez leí que Dios dibuja un circulo en la arena en el lugar preciso a donde algún día vas a llegar a conocer a alguien especial. Realmente no se cuantos círculos me habra trazado Dios, pero se que definitivamente estoy parada en uno de ellos. Deli-Cioso me recuerda a la versión boricua de Cheers. Ese lugar en donde “todos conocen tu nombre y están contentos de que llegaste”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Es tan rara la vez que conoces a alguien e inmediatamente lo identificas como amigo, pero ese día conocí a tres de ellos. Existen una o dos palabras que pueden explicar este fenómeno natural que ocurrió en aquella tarde dominguera: “vacilon boricua!”</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SiYPUcWzpeI/THbN-Bbf1qI/AAAAAAAAAE0/FsPdOI0gAtQ/s1600/0808101559.jpeg"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Todo esto acontecio gracias a mi buen amigo Gaby Berríos. Fue el quien me llevo a este lugar fenomenal. Era un domingo como cualquier otro cuando lo fui a visitar a su iglesia. Aprovecho para saludar a mis amigos de Metro Life Church. Gaby y yo tenemos tanto de que hablar que llegamos enseguida a Deli-Cioso en Hollywood. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Prontito llegamos al local y lo primero que veo antes de entrar es esa preciosa bandera de la Isla del Encanto…"esto va estar chévere!” me digo a mi misma.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Abrimos la puerta y me inunda el olor a sofrito, fritura, y cosas ricas. Ahora si que tengo hambre. Gaby me presenta a su amigo y dueño de Deli-Cioso – Chef Sammy y enseguida reconozco ese carisma típico de la gente boricua que adoro. Esa naturaleza relajada y alegre. Pero además de eso Chef Sammy posee una cualidad que me recuerda a los caballeros de antaño que te miran directamente a los ojos al saludar y respetan a las damas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Se me hace agua la boca al devisar el caldero en frente mío lleno de arroz con gandules. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Los hermanos Miguel y Jorge Pinero son buenos amigos de Sammy que trabajan con el en Deli-Cioso. Estos chicos divertidos y alegres son los principales culpables de que se arme todo el vacilon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Miguel, me dice, “tienes que probarlo esta rico. Te importa que te sirva pegao?” Yo ni corta ni perezosa le digo, "Dámelo pleeease. A mi me encanta el pegao o cucallo como dicen en mi país”. Pegao es el arroz que queda al fondo de la olla, Es crujiente y contiene todos los sabores de las especies que se acumulan. Mmmmmm … la única palabra para describir esto es…DELICIOSO!!!! Que nombre tan apropiado para este lugar!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Nacido en lo se que considera “el barrio más grande de Puerto Rico”, Brooklyn NY. Chef Sammy es fiel a sus raíces. Nos sentamos un ratito a conversar mientras comemos y Chef Sammy me cuenta algo de su historia personal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Por varios años trabajo como chef en prestigiosos restaurantes de Nueva York y Miami hasta que decidió abrir su propio deli en Hollywood pero no tenia los fondos necesarios hasta que su querida madre, Doña Pilar Marrero (que en paz descanse) le dijo “mijo toma mi tarjeta y compra todo lo que necesites.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Wow! A Chef Sammy se le humedecen sus ojos color caramelo cuando menciona a su madre. En el momento en que ella le da tan precioso regalo, ella estaba luchando contra el cáncer. Doña Pilar paso a estar con el Señor el 14 de Febrero, ese es el dia de mi cumpleaños, el dia del amor. Y precisamente fue un legado de amor lo que Doñ Pilar le dejaria a su hijo. Algo que vivirá por siempre en el corazón.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Vale notar que el lugar no es muy grande, pero si muy acogedor. Las paredes están llenas de recuerdos Newyorkinos y boricuas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Después de hártanos hasta mas no poder, Gaby, los hermanos Miguel y Jorge Pinero, y yo nos quedamos vacilando y nos dedicamos a tirar una sarta de disparates estilo boricua dirigido a Chef Sammy que nos escucha pacientemente nuestras babosadas sonriendo sarcásticamente como diciendo, “ustedes están tostaos!! Al final me dolía la panza, no de tanto comer sino de tanto reírme con mis nuevos panas!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Durante ese par de horas me sentí en familia. La verdad que aunque tengo raíces en Baranquilla, mi corazón vive en San Juan, La Parguera, y El Yunque, o donde sea que algún boricua sea mi amigo. Y en este caso se me quedo un pedazo en Deli-Cioso!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Si alguna vez me ven por ahi y da la casualidad que estoy con un corillo boricua, les costaría darse cuenta que soy Colombiana. Soy hija adoptiva del Coqui y tengo por lo menos un Bachiller en Boricua.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Así que vámonos a lonchar en Deli-Cioso pa hartarnos aunque después nos aprieten los mahones y nos demos unos buenos palos para que nos de una juma (Mavi!!! ). La pasaremos bien cool vacilando toda la tarde y pasándola súper chillin!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Ya vieron que soy trilingüe. Hablo Español, Ingles, y Boricua!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Como la pase tan bien ese día, regrese la semana siguiente con mi amiga Martha, vocalista Cubana y según ella Africana ( Ella dice que viene de un hombre africano...ayayay! No se lo digan a su papa por favor que el de negro no tiene nada.) Martha a.k.a Melikah también quedo impresionada con Chef Sammy y su corrillo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Ahora Deli-Cioso es nuestro nuevo hang-out. Así que si desean ver a la autora de este blog en persona, me podrán encontrar los domingos por la tardes en Deli-Cioso!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Los veo allá!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Deli-Cioso</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">954-961-8199</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">6794 Stirling Rd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Hollywood, Fl 33024</span> </div>
An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-77960615203526738562010-08-18T08:02:00.000-07:002013-02-26T08:08:48.842-08:00A Tale of Two Births<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SiYPUcWzpeI/TGv3EuF1dXI/AAAAAAAAAEk/6fHXHwN9_Uw/s1600/28220_395444701133_658111133_4285176_7756684_n.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506766629854606706" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SiYPUcWzpeI/TGv3EuF1dXI/AAAAAAAAAEk/6fHXHwN9_Uw/s320/28220_395444701133_658111133_4285176_7756684_n.jpg" style="float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">She heard the familiar little footsteps rushing towards her as she glanced up at the cloudless sky just in time to observe the yellow and green flapping feathers fly away. The flight of the cockatoos had stirred up a flurry of excitement amongst the two little figures running in the distance. Their mother watched as one of them sprang closer and stumbled as children do when they run. The two little ones reminded her of Russian babushka dolls. The sisterhood between them is made obvious by the curly brown locks that dance on their heads like bouncy coils. Their smooth faces radiate the glow of youth and their bright, starry eyes are framed by luxuriantly thick, black eyelashes that reveal their Creole ancestry. They unknowingly possess a power that consists of cheeks that have been kissed a thousand times, of window eyes that can’t be denied, and little arms that have the remarkable ability to cure heartache with a single hug.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Suddenly, a sharp piercing cry fills the air and she runs toward Hannah who, with her sight fixed on the sky, had crashed into the black olive tree that rules majestically over the garden. The toddler’s midnight eyes filled with tears that melted her mother’s heart. The hugs and kisses didn’t make themselves wait and soon the crying disappears as a bad dream dissipates in the light of the morning. As she holds her beloved child close to her heart, she remembers a time not so long ago: before the kisses and the hugs, before the tears and the dirty diapers. It was a time when she did not yet respond to that glorious word “mommy.” It is a word that she now reacts to with eagerness, tenderness, and even anxiety. I know how she feels because this woman is me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">My precious children arrived on the planet under such drastically different circumstances that it’s hard to believe how similar they are. And yet, it wasn’t too long ago that the mommy in me was born. The journey began on a cool and windy night in November 1999, on the twilight of the 20th century. Just as a new millennium loomed over the horizon, a new era was about to begin in my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I will never forget the day that I found out I was pregnant for the first time and the awesome responsibility of creating and raising a brand new human being became mine. At the time of my first pregnancy I had no knowledge of natural laws. It never would have occurred to me to have my baby anywhere, but in a hospital under the supervision of a Doctor; a member of that elite group of scientific geniuses endowed by society with the power to prescribe and operate and touch you in places where no human has ever ventured before. These medicine men and women are a powerful bunch! When one possesses the trust of others, one is gifted with an incredible power. Most of us have granted this power to these so-called authorities of health. The majority of people would not try to contradict or dare oppose the opinion of their physician, even when it defies logic. I used to be one of those people, but all of my trust collapsed as I experienced the collision between conventional medicine and Mother Nature on the night of my first-born’s birth. That was the night that I finally became undeceived. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">On the evening of November 5th, the most exciting and wonderful pain that I had ever experienced imposed itself upon my body like a wave that travels across the ocean increasing in size and intensity until it climaxes at a distant shore. I was yet very far from that shore when I awoke my husband from his deep slumber to tell him that my contractions were five minutes apart. As he hastily got dressed, I delighted in the swelling sensations that came and went, because they reminded me that I would soon meet the little being that I already loved so much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I cannot deny, however, that with the excitement also came fear. But I reassured myself with the thoughts of all of those mothers who have come before me. What I was about to experience was a right of passage, a privilege of womanhood. I remembered my own mother’s account of my entrance into the world. I was her first born, so she was unacquainted with the pain of birth. She had been feeling the minor discomforts throughout the day, but paid as much attention to them as she would a slight headache. She decided to walk off the pain by the seashore. While my mother was enjoying the fresh breeze and the sun on her skin, my head came down as a prelude to my birth. If it weren’t for a helpful passerby who noticed my mom’s predicament, I would have been born on the white sand to the rhythm of the swaying coconut palms. The helpful stranger drove my parents to Timothy Britton Hospital where I effortlessly completed my entrance into the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">When I asked my mom what the experience felt like physically, she simply replied, “Oh dear! You have nothing to fear. It’s just like taking a dump!” What? Was she kidding me? I wasn’t sure if I should believe the stories of this imaginative, hippie, bohemian-like mother of mine. True story or not, how could I possibly compare myself to this crazy earthy woman who had authored my days? She had spent her pregnancies traveling the country on foot, climbing snow tipped mountains, and swimming in the sea of seven colors that surrounded the island of my birth. She had always been as undernourished as a broomstick. Surviving on coconut water, tomatoes, and the occasional fish caught by my equally eccentric father. People would tease her by saying that her pregnant body resembled a needle that had swallowed a pea. I , on the other hand, bared no resemblance to the one who had engendered me. My body looked like a balloon that had been blown up to full capacity. I had spent my entire pregnancy shoveling down pints of creamy strawberry ice cream while permanently attached to the couch. I had been determined, however, to have a natural birth like all the women of my past generations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I had been preparing for it by using meditation and relaxation techniques that I read in books. I would practice them every time that I felt my belly swell and I felt so good about my preparation that there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I could do it. I was going to have my baby drug free and natural, or so I thought...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">My eyes open into the darkness. The incessant beeping and swishing of monitors rattles my nerves. The pain is excruciating. Intruding hands touch and poke. I feel the annoying sting of a needle in my vein. Where am I? I try to sit up, but find that I’m strapped down and connected to an IV and medical machinery. I feel like I’m in the clutches of a horrid monster that traps me in its ugly jaws and won’t let go until I bring forth the sacrifice within me. I stare at the blurry face before me and recognize some of the features, so I cry out, “Doctor! Help!” My strength fails me and I fall back on the bed and into the abyss of a nightmarish semi-consciousness. Am I asleep or awake? I don’t know. I can’t move or open my eyes, but I feel the pain and the words that are spoken in my presence reverberate loudly in my ears, “This one is going to need a C-section if the baby doesn’t come pretty soon!” I want to scream, “Nooo!” My desperate plea is not heard. I can’t open my mouth. My body is heavy from the drugs that they gave me to allegedly calm the pain from the medically induced labor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I had been persuaded to accept the drug because the anguish had become unbearable. Upon arrival at the hospital they had immediately added Pitocin to my IV so that “labor could progress more rapidly.” As a consequence, the contractions intensified their attack. They were trying to force this baby out before it was ready, for the sake of convenience. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The pain didn’t cease for an instant. I would have cherished a second of rest, but the intruding, paranoid, hands wouldn’t leave me alone. I lost my power to control the pain. I could no longer use my mental abilities to relax. The violation of natural laws that was taking place in this medical institution had taken a toll on my ability to enjoy what was supposed to be the most miraculous moment of my life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I twisted and turned in agony. I cried out to my helpless husband and friends, but there was nothing they could do, but pray. I told the nurse that I wanted to stand up and move around to ease the pain, but the reply was swift, “Absolutely not! You are hooked up to the Pitocin and you should not move.” I felt powerless and alone. Finally, after much suffering and feeling vulnerable, I accepted the drug that was supposed to ease the anguish. This is how I came to fall into the state of semi-consciousness that filled me with anxiety. When I finally woke up, I felt like I was in a Freddy Kruger movie. The nightmare was real. The pain became more and more violent. I had not rested at all. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and I vociferously asked for the epidural. This is the moment that they had been waiting for. I had surrendered. I waved the white flag. “No more torture please!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The Anesthesiologist promptly showed up as if waiting in the wings, knowing that I would soon give up. My spinal cord was injected with the numbing drug and soon I was comfortable again. I couldn’t feel my legs but I didn’t care as long as the pain was gone. I took advantage of the relief to take a good long nap. Somebody wanting to check for dilation awoke me at around midnight. They confirmed that I was ten inches and ready to push. If they hadn’t told me this, I wouldn’t have known. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Suddenly the doctor rushed in wearing a cap and a mask that covered everything but her eyes. A group of nurses came in the room and suddenly the room was full of aliens. There was a great expectation as the big production was about to begin. So there I was, laying spread eagle with a multitude of eyes staring at my perineum. I was like a spectacle in the circus. Something fascinating was about to come to pass and this group of uninvited strangers had a free ticket.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">My husband positioned himself on my left with ice chips on hand. I was instructed that I needed to push so I tried my best, even though I was weak, hungry, and uncomfortable. Thanks to the drugs, I didn’t know when I was having a contraction because I was completely numb from the waist down. I pushed and pushed with all my might while the nurse constantly chanted, “push, push, push, push.” This felt somewhat like trying to push out your own liver. The incredibly exhausting process of push, push, pushing out an eight pound creature while lying on my back, trying to keep my legs up for the doctor’s convenience, went on for more than an hour. The baby would tease its audience by partially bringing her head out only to tuck it back inside as soon as I took a breath.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">At one point I asked out loud: “Isn’t there a better position that I can get into?” The nurse was annoyed by my request and shouted: “There is no other position! Now push!” This completely disconcerted me. I couldn’t understand how this statement could possibly be true. Finally the doctor ran out of patience and performed an episiotomy by cutting my perineum to allow the passage of the baby’s head. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Arela was finally born on November 6, 1999 at 1:45am. She had struggled her way into the world within a confabulation of pain, blood, lights, and noise. The first hands to touch her where covered in plastic. They coldly pulled her out of me and swept her away to a waiting table where at least half a dozen more plastic hands pushed tubes down her nose and throat while frantically rubbing her tiny, delicate body to clean off the debris of natal fluids that stuck to her. Her entrance into the world was violent and loud. She became familiar with pain right away as they pricked and poked without mercy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">They proceeded to tightly swaddle her up and finally handed over the product of my labor. Meanwhile, the doctor proceeded to sow up the mess she had made of my perineum. The episiotomy would soon take a toll on my physical and emotional well being. At that moment, I was too numb to feel any pain, but soon I would suffer the incredible pain and discomfort that would impair my ability to enjoy my first days as a mother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I now looked at my baby and tried to feel the love and tenderness mothers are supposed to feel when they first see the little being that belongs to them, but I couldn’t. I didn’t understand why. All I knew was that I was tired and hungry. I felt and looked like I had been through a battlefield. The few moments that I was allowed to spend with my baby were difficult. She was grumpy and inconsolable. I felt like crying too. We were two strangers who had just been through an ordeal together and were in no mood for loveliness. I tried to breast feed her, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She was too upset. To my guilty relief, they soon took her away and I didn’t see her again for many hours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Two years later when I found out that I was carrying another child, the first emotion that I experienced was fear. But as I took a look at my two year old Arela with her bright smiling face and remembered all the joy she had brought me, I knew that it would all be worth it in the end. I was determined that this next experience would be utterly different. I didn’t know how I was going to accomplish this. All I knew was that I would probably find the answer in the realm of nature. I began researching the experiences of other women who gave birth without assistance from a doctor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I went ahead with the regular doctor’s visits, but I knew that I would not have a hospital birth again if I could help it. I had every intention of defying the medical establishment and instead following the laws of nature. I knew that other women in the world were giving birth in their own homes. I had read about the beauty of natural childbirth and began planning my second baby’s entrance into the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Hannah was born as she safely fell into her daddy’s clutched hands, caught like a football in mid air, while I stood holding onto the kitchen counter. We were all alone that morning. Unbeknownst to my husband, I had been up all night with contractions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Arela had spent the night at her aunt and uncle’s house. I took advantage of the solitude to go out to the back porch and fill up a kiddy pool with warm water. While Steve peacefully slept, I was laboring in the delightful water while watching the stars in the sky and feeling as one with the universe. Every time a contraction made its sharp attack, I leaned against the edge of the pool and swayed my body back and forth rhythmically soothing away the pain while floating weightlessly in the pool. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I felt so proud of myself. The doctor had wanted to induce labor because I was almost one week past the calculated due date. When I finally began experiencing the familiar contractions two days before the scheduled induction, I thanked God that I would not have to go through that horror again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I was bound and determined to take control of my body. I hoped that the baby would come then and there. I fantasized that I could deliver her under those stars. It would have been a magical moment for both of us. Hannah, however, had a different plan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I awoke Steve the next morning to let him know that I was in labor. The presence of a slight bloody show disconcerted me. This was enough to make me call the doctor. He ordered us to go to the hospital right away. I felt disappointed in myself because I had succumbed to fear. Feeling defeated and upset, I got dressed and proceeded to leave for the hospital. As Steve opened the door for me, the sweet scent of gardenias swept through the house riding on the gentle breezes that filled the room. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I was suddenly filled with hope and I knew that things were going to be different this time around. As I walked past the threshold to the outside I noticed the clear blue sky and the sun was still mellow as it had not yet reached its’ zenith that morning. I barely made it past that threshold when I was suddenly paralyzed by a strong pain that came down on my back and made me feel like I was going to break in two. I made an effort to relax my body and took a deep breath, but I couldn’t move. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I had been feeling strong contractions before and I had been able to control the pain by swaying back and forth and side to side. This little dance made the pain subside. But this time was different. My body would not obey my command to move. I clutched my husband’s arm like it was a branch that kept me from falling off a cliff. I knew the pain would be over soon and all I could do was wait. Suddenly it happened! The baby’s head dropped and was partially outside of my body. I screamed as I took off my pants: “The baby’s coming!” My husband was right by my side but his voice sounded like it was coming from some far of place in the distance: “Come on we’ve got to go to the hospital!” I could tell he was scared. I knelt down on the floor in disbelief and said rather crossly: “We’re not going anywhere! The baby is coming NOW!” I laugh now when I think of him pacing back and forth saying “Oh no! Oh my God! This can’t be happening!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">After a short pause, he said something to try to make me get up, but I couldn’t hear him. I had retreated into myself. I was like a lioness that seeks for a lonely spot in the savannah to have her cubs. I was in my own savannah. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look down. I began calling on the Lord to help me. I was overpowered by the mystery of what was about to take place. There was something primal about it. As shocked as I was, I knew that this was the way it was supposed to be. All I could do was wait and pray. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">As I knelt on the rug, I felt transported a million miles away from this earth. I was making contact with the spiritual world. I can’t help but to wonder if this is also what happens at the moment of death. All of the science in the world cannot compete with the majesty of nature. At that moment I became nature. I was doing what millions and millions of women have done since the beginning of time. I was giving birth naturally without assistance from anyone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The events that transpired next I can only remember in slow motion. I knelt down on my knees feeling that I was on the threshold of both life and death, but I was uncertain as to what I would find on the other side. A strong contraction suddenly forced me to stand up and I instinctively walked a couple of steps to the kitchen counter. The next moment I was overcome by the urge to push and so, I gently obeyed my body’s command. That’s when the most incredible and wonderful sensation I have ever experienced surprised me. I felt Hannah swoop past my cervix. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Her slippery little body released itself and went down through me as she separated from the womb. I experienced a burst of exhilaration followed by fright when I realized she was going to fall on the floor. I screamed with all my might to my husband, “Catch the baby!” He slid in between my legs like a catcher in a game and caught her as she fell into his hands splashing like a water balloon because she had broken the bag of water when she passed through the birth canal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I heard no sound as I looked down and Steve’s beautiful big, wide, honey colored eyes, were looking up at me in shock and disbelief. I was anxious to see what was underneath so I bent over and saw the most beautiful apparition. The tiniest little face I had ever seen. I stared wide- eyed at the doll-like creature beneath me. She looked up and around to check out her surroundings and suddenly her gaze captured my eyes and I was captivated by her stare. She seemed to recognize that I was her mother. She didn’t seem upset at her sudden emergence into the world, on the contrary she was calm and her eyes were wide with wonder.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">This moment must have lasted less than ten seconds, but the magic will remain with me forever. Her little body was all wet but very clean. Her skin had the color of cinnamon and her hair was a soft, brown, fluffy mess. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Our hearts had beaten as one for nine months. My breath had given her life and my womb had given her a place to grow into a person. Now she would arrive into a different and not as intimate a world as where she came from. I was overcome by an incredible desire to hold her. When I finally managed to speak I asked Steve to give her to me. He handed her over while the cord was still connected to the placenta, which had not yet been delivered. I asked my husband to put a towel over the rocking chair and I sat there skin to skin holding my baby while Steve called 911. I offered Hannah my breast and she latched on right away. The connection was instantaneous. She had not suffered through a long ordeal. There were no drugs, tubes, or noises. She was born into the natural light of the morning. The first hands to touch her skin were her daddy’s followed by her mother’s loving arms.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">It wasn’t long before the paramedics arrived with their noisy vehicles and medical equipment on hand, ready to “rescue” us. They proceeded to cut and clamp Hannah’s umbilical cord and put us on a stretcher where we would be transported to the hospital. Once there, the medical staff treated us as a medical emergency, but I felt like an Olympic gold medal winner who had failed before, but had emerged triumphant this time around. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The joy and gratitude that we experienced on that wonderful day belonged to us and to God and to no one else. And the joy lingers even to this day. I had a hospital birth before and vowed never to have one again. Hannah’s birth was a revelation. I learned on that day that man can not imitate or improve on the power of nature. When human beings learn to trust in this power we will understand that health and well being is not an accident, it is our birthright.</span></div>
An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2634054292333062550.post-70326650185150568642009-10-01T15:20:00.000-07:002017-06-15T14:33:21.014-07:00El Rock de Mi Pueblo<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>La Magia y la Musica</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SiYPUcWzpeI/SsZlL4RMwSI/AAAAAAAAADM/nCXUUxPS0rI/s1600-h/9031_146344702022_669032022_3049431_324782_n.jpg"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="ES-CO" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Me encuentro
en un lugar lleno de magia. Llegue aquí en busca de algo desconocido. Me
embarque en un viaje hacia la misteriosa tierra inexplorada de sueños que viven
en algún rincón olvidado de mi corazón inquieto.</span><span lang="ES-CO" style="line-height: 107%;"> A</span><span lang="ES-CO" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span lang="ES-CO" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 107%;">l</span><span lang="ES-CO" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; line-height: 107%;">o mejor el motivo de mi llegada a este concierto de Rock es simple
curiosidad. Un sencillo deseo de conocer cosas, muchas cosas que no entiendo.
Es tiempo de vivir y sentir las sensaciones, los colores, los sabores, y
los sonidos de un nuevo mundo. Y así comienzo mi vida en busca de descubrimientos. </span><span lang="ES-CO"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-CO" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Me siento a
esperar lo inesperado y sentada en mi asiento en </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">este teatro antiguo lleno de
historia y de vida, me llega una sensación extraña. Tan perceptible como un
suspiro, empiezo a sentir la inconfundible presencia de fantasmas. Aquellos
fantasmas me rodean y me hablan. Quieren decirme que aún viven, que puedo
invocarlos cuando yo quiera. Y si lo pido, saldrán a jugar. Son
imposibles de ignorar. Tienes nombres y tienen alma. Son los fantasmas del
arte, de la música, del teatro, de la bohemia, de la risa. El Teatro Filmore de
Jackie Gleason es un lugar embrujado, pero de una manera maravillosa. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: large;">El público se
encuentra a la expectativa. Ellos y yo esperamos algo grande que convierta esta
noche en un recuerdo inolvidable. Estoy rodeada de cervezas y palomitas de maíz
y los fantasmas siguen haciéndose sentir. De repente se escucha el afino de una
guitarra. Los jóvenes gritan agitadamente y de repente se abren las cortinas
majestuosas de terciopelo color sangre. Y entonces la melodía vibrante como gotas de lluvia </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: large;">fluye </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: large;">de
una guitarra eléctrica invisible.</span></div>
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<span lang="ES-CO" style="font-size: 18pt;">¡La
fila de jóvenes que están sentados a mi espalda gritan a todo pulmón…MONTE
ROSA!!!!</span><span lang="ES-CO" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-CO" style="font-size: large;">En mi
vida pasada no comprendía la pasión por la música Rock moderna. Siempre fue mi
pensar que la música Rock de los anos clásicos no se puede superar. Después de
todo, fue entonces que nació el movimiento juvenil más perdurable y persistente
que ha existido en la historia del mundo. ¿Cómo poder re-inventar al gran Elvis
Presley o Jerry Lee Lewis? Los músicos de los años 50 eran pioneros,
exploradores, inventores y fascinantes. ¿Cómo comparar con el Rock moderno? ¡Jamás!
Y a pesar de mis prejuicios aquí estoy por primera vez lista para escuchar dos
bandas de Rock que no reconozco. </span><span lang="ES-CO" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-CO" style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">Esta no es la historia de una o dos bandas
de música. Realmente es un relato de un descubrimiento extraordinario y de
una llama encendida por la mecha conocida como Rock en español. </span><span lang="ES-CO"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Mi experiencia rock-n- rolera es una tabula rasa o por lo menos eso pensaba hasta ahora. Soy Colombiana y me siento orgullosa de tener linaje africano, español, e indígena y quizás sea por esto que en algún rincón de mi memoria existe otra tierra, otro tiempo, otro mundo en donde habitan los recuerdos de palmas de coco y brisas calidas en un reino de tambores, de ritmos africanos, de ritmos candentes, de ritmos españoles, de ritmos latinos y furiosos. Ritmos integrantes del rock?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">En anticipación a la música mi mente se transporta a los tiempos de mi juventud cuando el corillo de amigos nos sentábamos a la luz de la luna con una guitarra usandola como herramienta de desahogo. Cantábamos cantos que se cantan al amor, al la borrachera, a la rebeldía, al desamor, a la rabia, al dolor, a la vida, a las situaciones a todo...ingredientes del rock- n- roll?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">De repente sale la figura al escenario…MONTE ROOOOSAAaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Vuelve a gritar la chica a mis espaldas y los gritos frenéticos de emoción no se dejan esperar…Monte Rosa con su guitarra brillante roja hace su presentación al publico de Miami. Y al decir lo siguiente: “<em>Soy Monte Rosa y soy de Barranquilla Colombia”</em> wooooooohooooooooo!!…esta vez soy yo la que grita de emoción. MR es barranquillero, de la misma ciudad de donde soy yo. Su modestia y humildad es característica de la gente de nuestro pueblo en común.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Nos dice que quiere ver movimiento para poder regalar discos y la audiencia no sabe que esperar y se queda atónita hasta que comienza la presentación…increíble, vibrante, espectacular!! Es evidente que Monte Rosa posee la cualidades de un artista único e original. La originalidad es un gran cualidad de los baranquilleros (Ejemplo de esto: Shakira!…Tengo que decir algo mas?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">La música es un revelación y es extraordinaria. El teatro se electrifica y es cosa obvia que Monte Rosa es una banda destinada a triunfar. Prepárate para los latín Grammys mi paisano!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">La euforia de la música me toca y me siento feliz gritando y brincando como una loca! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Que si tengo problemas? que problemas?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Que no soy talla dos en pantalones? Who cares?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Que pronto se podrá colocar un cuatro en frente de mi edad? No jodas! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Que el principe azul no acaba de llegar? Aqui lo espero tranquila!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Que las cuentas por pagar se me están amontonando? No me preocupa…Me he transportado a otra dimensión. Que viva por siempre el Rock de mi pueblo!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Monte Rosa se despide y no quiero que se vaya…El escenario queda silencioso, no me gusta, pero los fantasmas me aseguran que todavía vienen mas cosas buenas…Esta experiencia no se acaba hasta que se acaba. </span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Los Enanitos Verdes</span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HqAtktamjQ0/WApsehaMDgI/AAAAAAAACQ0/G4PjzOwQwbkKChxS8yP0UVqErzCtvbblQCLcB/s1600/maxresdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HqAtktamjQ0/WApsehaMDgI/AAAAAAAACQ0/G4PjzOwQwbkKChxS8yP0UVqErzCtvbblQCLcB/s320/maxresdefault.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Un poquito más al sur del continente suramericano existe un país llamado Argentina…y adentro de ese país una ciudad llamada Mendoza que vio nacer a un grupo de enanitos y verdes! </span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SiYPUcWzpeI/SsZm6iOzNlI/AAAAAAAAADc/UFxcAQihRrM/s1600-h/enanitos-verdes.jpg"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Pero de esto solo poseen el </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">nombre y realmente como dijo Shakespeare, “que hay en un nombre”? Y Shakespeare realmente estaba en lo cierto porque estos enanos ni son enanos ni son verdes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">El show principal de la noche…la introducción a mi vida de los Enanitos Verdes. No importa que hay como 700 personas (estoy adivinando) en el Fillmore. Esto es para mi solita… “<em>Me quieren agitar, me incitan a gritar, soy como una roca, palabras no me tocan adentro hay un volcán que pronto va a estallar yo quiero estar </em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><em>tranquilo</em>...” Wow!! Están hablando de mí! </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRo6fexL-FI/WApvYoF8CVI/AAAAAAAACRA/FzxvouOJwtYbXpAGhnLWJdQi-FQY7HLjwCLcB/s1600/unnamed%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRo6fexL-FI/WApvYoF8CVI/AAAAAAAACRA/FzxvouOJwtYbXpAGhnLWJdQi-FQY7HLjwCLcB/s1600/unnamed%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SiYPUcWzpeI/SsZnG8ONmdI/AAAAAAAAADk/kW-307olU9E/s1600-h/09-27-09_2352.jpeg"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Cabe notar que esta fue una de las últimas canciones, pero ya para este entonces estoy agitada por estar brincando (o bailando como quieras interpretarlo) y cantando a todo pulmón usando mi voz de gallina afónica (que bueno que no pueden oír!) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Woohoooo<em>…"y yo estoy aquí borracha</em> (borracha pero no de alcohol) <em>y loca y mi corazón idiota siempre brillará y yo te amaré </em>( a quien se la dedico?) <em>nena no te peines en la cama</em> ( esa soy yo!) <em>que los viajantes se van a atrasar”</em>(esto no lo entiendo...pero no importa).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Quien diría que un grupo llamado los Enanitos Verdes podrían interpretar los sonidos de nuestro pueblo de una manera tan radical y explosiva! Un Rock que nace de los ritmos ancestrales del pueblo latino combinado con los ritmos nacidos en New Orleans y a la orilla del Missisipi. Esto es en parte poesía y en parte un grito de desahogo…Esa es la revelación…he aquí la historia…En realidad no somos tan diferentes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Gracias Monte Rosa y Enanitos Verdes por un gran concierto!</span></span></div>
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<br />An Apple a Day http://www.blogger.com/profile/00402830724465823147noreply@blogger.com0