A Little More on Mexico

My two good friends Bev and Brooks tied the knot on July 5th on a beach in Playa del Carmen, a growing little town not too far from Cancun on the Yucatan Peninsula. B&B were my friends separately and are even more wonderful together, not to mention, a big bucket o' fun. They are both as entertaining as they are intellectually gifted. As I told Bev about a month after they started getting serious, "You and Brooks are going to get married and then have the smartest little curly headed children the world has ever seen.." So far so good ;-)

Brooks was my neighbor about 4 years ago. I knew we would be friends when after meeting him for the first time, he didn't get upset (at least I hope not) when I kept calling him, "rivers", for the rest of the evening and giggling at my own tipsy cleverness. Now Dr. Bev I've known for about 8 or 9 years. When we first met, I knew she was fun but I had no idea just how much. Since then I've learned that she's jut one of those special gems of a friend who can reference Shakespeare, Thoreau, Biggie and Missy Elliot in the same sentence and just keep on going, while at the same time pouring multiple glasses of champagne and cooking up something yummy in the oven. She's my special dancing partner who likes to get down just as much as I do--and let there be no confusion folks, I'm talking down to the ground. Yeah--you know what I mean ;-)

Their wedding was on the beach and just lovely. Made even lovelier by the fact that my friend and trip roomie Megan and I enjoyed some delicious happy hour Pina Coladas during the ceremony. (Hey, don't judge--it was on the beach after all :-) After the wedding (and quick undercover honeymoon suite decorating by myself, Megan, Trish, and Amalia), we all gathered for cocktails and then a candle-lit dinner reception. A couple of "straight up raccoons" even joined in on the fun. After eating and chatting for a bit beside the beach, B&B led the younger crowd downtown in their wedding attire. You would have thought we were celebrities by all the cheering that followed. And of course the evening wouldn't have been complete without dancing.

The next day and our last, Megan and I just sort of lounged around the resort and beach being lazy. During the afternoon rainstorm, we enjoyed complimentary massages on the beach(thanks again to the happy couple who decided to jet ski instead). These would have been even nicer and more relaxing if we both didn't suddenly have the strong urge to pee during the middle of our sessions. I guess it was the rain/3 days of pina coladas combo. We splashed and giggled our way back to our room through the puddles and found that our housekeeper had waited out the storm in our room and left us a towel swan. Just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. We'd been leaving tips all week just hoping for such an exquisite towel sculpture and finally--the best one ever created in the history of hotel linens.

All in all, it was a wonderful break from the stresses of ordinary life, a fine balance between fiesta and siesta and a trip that made me seriously consider a destination wedding for myself someday in the future, the far, far future :-) Despite the stomach bug I came back with and the fact that Mexican mosquitoes find me particularly tasty, the time away was great and just what I needed. I've discovered, yet again, that vacationing really suits me. So, if you know someone looking to hire a travel writer with a great affinity for pina coladas...

P.S. If you're ever looking to self medicate a vacation stomach bug that just won't quit, I recommend a combined morning dosage of: LiveActive cereal, Activia, and DanActive-immunity support. You might also want to clear your afternoon of plans outside your home. I guarantee your bowels will be back to pre-trip condition in no time.

(photos coming soon)

Mexico, a Mattress and More...

I know, I know--it's been so long since I've written and I'd like to apologize to my two subscribers--you know who you are ;-) As my friend Tim says, "All writers are procrastinators..." and in that case, I am definitely a writer. Although, sometimes I worry because I don't have the need to write every day. Sometimes I really want to hop on here and write about my day or something funny that has happened but then I think, I'll do it tomorrow. And here it is tomorrow and about a month and a half since I last signed into my blog that I was so excited about writing. Well, at least I do come by my procrastinating nature quite naturally. My father is one of the greatest if not the greatest man I know (I'll admit--I'm slightly biased here) and he still has yet to finish putting the siding on our house (that we moved into when I was 8--I'm now 28--you do the math :-). My childhood home--ahhh--that story will have to be saved for another post all its own--promise.

The thing is, I think I've been putting off my stories because I think they need to be these grand adventures that I spend at least an hour writing, etc... However, from now on, even if it's just a paragraph, I vow to post at least once a week. Hold me to that please :-)

Ok, back to what I've been doing besides writing. Well, I've been busy with work but who wants to talk about that so I'll cut to the fun stuff. In the last month I:

- went to Mexico for a friends wedding and had so much fun!

- bought a new mattress that I love. Is it possible that a single mattress can make you feel like a princess? The answer, yes, yes it is...

- bought a new car that I love even more :-)
I'd been with my '96 Toyota Camry for about 10 years and it was just time.

The Elusive BM

July 4, 2000; 5:30 am - BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!!! I slammed my hand down on the alarm for the forth and final time. Ughhh… What am I doing up so early? This definitely doesn’t feel like Independence Day. I rolled myself out of bed and into my required red, white and blue Forth of July t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Not even caring what I looked like, I raced to my car and began my early-morning trek to The Hill and my holiday with Dr. A.

Appearance had become less and less of a concern over the last few months. When you’re young, working at a retirement home, and giving weekly baths to people four times your age – your body starts to look pretty darn good. Today would be no different. It would just be Dr. A and I for most of the day. He couldn’t see very well anymore anyway. So, what did it matter that I was a little disheveled, my hair was greasy and my face was sans make-up.

In the car, I sang along with the radio and tried to pump myself up for the day, wishing instead that it was already that night and I was on my way to fireworks and Bar-B-Q. I pulled into my spot, slammed the door and took off to punch in before heading to Dr. A’s room. I walked in at 6:30am on the dot - right on time and thank goodness because tardiness was not accepted in this room. After years of being a surgeon in the Army Dental Corps, Dr. A expected promptness, precision, respect and above all, no mistakes. He had his daily regimen and it was my job to make sure it was followed.

“Dr. A, Dr. A… It’s 6:30 - time to get up. That’s it.” I turned on the lamp, walked over to the bed, and gently began to wake my unique ward. “ Umph!” He grunted, reached for his thick glasses and slowly drew his aged body out of bed so I could change his diaper. Gross, gross, gross—what am I doing? I definitely never imagined changing diapers to be part of my daily routine at twenty years of age. However, I kept reminding myself - I’ll be old one day and need assistance too.

After his morning bathroom trip to take a leak and brush his teeth, I helped Dr. A into his clothes. It was the same routine every morning. We sat there and looked at each other for about 10 minutes, both too tired to start a conversation. I gazed out the window, longing to still be in bed. Dr. A’s head had already fallen to his shoulder and he was lightly snoring. I didn’t understand why I had to be there so early to get him up if he was just going to fall right back asleep.

Two hours went slowly by and then it was time to head to breakfast. Dr. A stepped into his wheel chair and we were off. As we made our way down the hall, he would smile and wave to the other residents we passed. Ironically, it always reminded me of a young beauty contestant in a parade. Once inside the dining room, I helped him get situated and then let the nurses take over. Finally, I had some time to myself. I went over to the couch and watched the morning news.

Following breakfast, we went back to the room and each of us started reading. After a while, Dr. A smiled at me and said, “This is a good day. It’s the Forth of July and I’m spending it with you.” I immediately felt guilty for my earlier thoughts. “Yes, it is a good day.” I said and grinned. He continued, “And it’s also a good day because I think it’s time for a BM.”

I smiled and looked at him blankly, trying to remember where I’d seen or heard this term. Oh yes, on the chart beside his chair, a list that read, “good,” “bad,” or “ok” BM and gave the date for each. The last entry was dated three days before.

“Ok, where do you keep them?” I asked confusedly, thinking BMs were some sort of strange pill he only took at certain times. At the same time he smiled, looked up at me and said, “Yep, it’s time for a bowl movement.” Oh no! No! I felt my face start to fall but then quickly pulled myself together before Dr. A noticed. I then helped him to the restroom and walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar. One of the job requirements was that I kept his bathroom door open in case of a fall or other emergency.

For ten minutes I quietly read my book and tried to ignore the growing stench and foul sounds coming from the bathroom. It was too much! I grabbed some tissues, formed them into two little balls and stuffed each one up my nostrils far enough so Dr. A wouldn’t be able to see. Thirty minutes later he walked out just in time to head to lunch.

After chatting with the nurses for a bit, I warily made my way back to the room. There was no helping it, I needed to pee and there was nowhere else to turn but the dreaded stinky bathroom. I held my nose and went inside. As soon as I flushed the toilet I knew something was amiss. The water started coming back up. The poor pipes had seen more than they were used to that day and were protesting. I squealed and reached down to turn off the water but it had already gotten all over the floor.

Shit! Shit, shit!

I rushed down to get the maintenance crew to clean up the mess before Dr. A could find out but it was too late. Lunch was over and he was ready to go back to his room. I tried to explain what had happened and he was infuriated that I, a girl, had taken the lid off his toilet to turn off the water. “That’s for men to do!” he bellowed at me.

I rolled my eyes and pleaded, “Dr. A, there is water all over the floor. Please don’t go in there.” It was no use. He needed to go to the bathroom again and there was no stopping him. Halfway to the toilet the tennis balls on the bottom feet of his walker were soaked through. “ I don’t think this will work.” He said while looking sheepishly back at me. “No it won’t.” I said and then suggested, “Let’s go to the bathroom down the hall.”

We traded the wet walker for his wheelchair and then went to the other bathroom. Just when I thought things were settling down, the wheelchair got stuck in the door and Dr. A had dropped his pants before I could do anything about it. People were walking by, a little boy giggled and it was all I could do not to do the same. Thankfully Dr. A didn’t even seem to notice.

Back in the room, I sat there contemplating... Can I really do this? I always imagined myself working with the elderly someday because I seemed to have a natural knack for it. However, this experience combined with others from throughout the summer, were beginning to change my mind.

On my way out, I ran into one of the little ladies who always liked to come hold my hands when I was working the front desk. She grabbed my hands, started swinging them and singing, “I can’t give you anything but love, baby! You’re the only one I’m thinking of, baby!” I smiled and at the same time one of the nurses came up to me and said, “E, she’s not so good at using toilet paper when she wipes.”

“What does she use?” I asked and then looked down at our intertwined hands afraid I already knew the answer. The nurse nodded her head yes.

Ewww! Nope this job was definitely not for me.

Coloring Outside the Lines

"Yo, whaddup, dis is K and for whatevah reason I can’t get to da phone right now but… leave me a message and I might hit you back.”

It was her phone message right after she moved to New York. She would kill me if she knew I was using this quote to describe her. But for some reason I always feel compelled to break out my best Brooklyn accent and share it with anyone who asks about my sister.

To see her now with her long, ever-changing hair, pierced nose and dangling earrings, walking down the street in one of her many pairs of Chuck Taylors (or as she would say, "kicks"), one would never guess she grew up in midst of the Piney Woods of East Texas. K is much more adept at traversing the subways of New York City than the maze of trees that surrounds our childhood home. But then again, the stereotypical small town life and the small mindedness that sometimes accompanies it never quite seemed to suit her.

The Christmas after she moved, she wrote a poem for me. It still warms my heart and makes me cry sometimes when I read it.

You have the hands that lift me up,

You give me sight when I cannot see,

You’re the one I call on when life has me down on my knees…

When did my little sister develop wisdom beyond her years and such a talent for writing poetry? I treasure these beautiful words she wrote for me, that she trusts me with her secrets, and that she still occasionally needs me.

K is an enigma to most who try to know her. I never quite understood how she managed to be so mysterious while I was the opposite. For instance, in some of our first Sears family portraits, I showcase this humongous grin while conversely she’s not really smiling at all. Instead she has this little smirk on her three-year-old face, like she knows something you don’t. She’s now famous for that look and still somewhat of a mystery. So, while I can’t share all of her secrets. I want to try and give a glimpse of the K I know, the young woman I have grown to really like, and the sister I love.

When she was little, K used to follow me around calling out, “Sistah, sistah, pway wif me.” We both had a bit of a speech impediment. Pair that with a country accent and you have two very funny-sounding children. We even had our own little language. Our neighbor down the road would always say “hi” when we walked to get the mail. His name was Eugene; however, we thought our parents were saying “Your Gene” and would get into arguments over just whose Gene he actually was.

Our arguments evolved considerably as we grew older. We shared a room and bunk beds until I was a senior in high school. Not an easy thing for two teenage girls. Especially when one of those girls was very motherly, while the other was the ultimate rebel. As I think back on it now, I probably spent a little too much time telling K what she should not do rather than showing her what she should. I always saw her as my innocent baby sister. That would change.

We were both blessed with parents who encouraged our individuality and friendships with people, no matter what their race. I can still remember her sixth birthday. It was a swimming party at the lake by our house and she invited all of her best friends, many of whom were black or Hispanic. Unfortunately, multiracial parties were not a common theme in East Texas while we were growing up. Even though I am five years older, I have always been slightly oblivious to some of the darker sides of human nature. So, at the time and years later, I thought nothing of the fact that my first Barbie was black and, so it seemed were most of my sister's friends.

K is a fiercely loyal friend to those fortunate enough to crack her cool façade. However, she does not trust easily and actually does not like that many people. I think some are even a little frightened of her. This could be due in part to her famous temper and scowling face when she’s in a mood or because many people simply do not understand my sister. Different is not just an adjective for K; it's a way of life. When other girls were curling their hair, she was putting hers in cornrows. She has always been her own person, doing and saying what she feels is right and not caring what others may say. While I once found this quality to be frustrating, as we both grow older and wiser I find that it is one of my favorite qualities about her.

Part of the reason K finds it hard to trust people is that she has not found many in whom she can. As I was enjoying college, she was struggling through high school. Her sophomore year she fractured both of her feet and could no longer play volleyball or dance. This was also the year her best friend’s family forbade her to ever come to their house, her second home, simply because she had the nerve to date someone outside of her race, a big faux pas in East Texas. Subsequently, she was talked about behind her back by the “popular” girls and even their parents.

Your sweet laughter washes,

The bigotry in life,

And your voice is warm with love,

You make me laugh and sometimes cry,

But in the end your hand I will never shove…

I always felt guilty that I was not there for her to protect her during a lot of this time, to tell her to keep her faith in the goodness of people and not lose hope even when she was surrounded by so much animosity and ignorance. Unfortunately I was in Austin, discovering myself and finding my way while she was losing hers.

Even though she’s more jaded now because of her traumatic teen years spent in rural East Texas, she is also a stronger woman for them. She was so happy to get away, to a different state, a new city, and a fresh start. Because art has always been her release, she moved to New York to attend Pratt Art Institute in Brooklyn. The Big Apple has its own set of problems but here is where she has found a place for herself, friends she can count on and a life that she is finally happy to be living.

As they usually do, plans changed and this summer she will graduate with a dual degree in psychology and art from Brooklyn College. In true K fashion, about 3 years ago she met and fell in love with her very own Puerto Rican “papi”, born and raised in downtown Brooklyn. “From one border to another”, they fit each other so well. Miguel, my boyfriend-in-law, helped put the glow back in my little sister’s cheeks and the happiness back in her voice, even if it is now tinged with a very Brooklyn and slightly Puerto Rican accent. For this he will always have a special place in my heart as well as K’s. Now, if he breaks her heart, then I’ll have to go all mother bear on his ass. I am, after all, still her big sister.

To you I owe the moon,

And the precious stars above,

For you my sister,

Have taught me wisdom,

Possessed by only your love.

Ditto “sistah”. Ditto…

Quarter-life Follow-up: Getting off my...

Since I first began writing my quarter-life essay, in October 2006, I have made some big life changes. In the past year, I...

* Bought my first home. A little 1/1 condo-perfect for me. I love it and learned so much from the experience! If you're a first-time home buyer, be sure to check out what your city and state has to offer you in forms of assistance--you might be surprised--I know I was...

(Thank you Brett & Nicole for the push!)


* Became a "big sister" for Big Brothers Big Sisters. Something I'd always thought of doing but just never took the time or told myself I'd do it the next year. Well, I'm so glad I finally got off my butt and decided to put in my application. My "little sister" is amazing and we have so much fun together! I hope she is getting as much out of our relationship as I am. If you've ever thought of mentoring in this way--make the time and do it!

* Got a new job. I'm still in the same line of work but with more opportunities for networking and future growth. I just finished my first month and am still getting my feet wet but I think I made a good move. Although, I have to say, it wasn't easy. I certainly underestimated the difficulty of transitioning from a program which I had worked with for almost 10 years into a new office and a new set of everything! I also came in as a director, which is an interesting starting point when coming into something unknown but I'm getting it :-)

For interviewing tips I enjoyed reading: http://fabulouslybrokeinthecity.blogspot.com. (Thank you Dalia :-)

* Started this blog :-) I inherited my father's gift of gab and love of story-telling. He and my mother, both teachers, have always taught me the best lessons through their life examples and silly stories. Now... I may not have always listened or understood their advice at the time. However, after I hit age 25, they suddenly started making a lot more sense---so did investing for retirement--actually, that was just in the past year ;-)

Likewise, I think sometimes God sets us on a path and we don't even realize it until years later. In the beginning, it seemed like I happened into my current career, which is based around experiential mentoring and teaching. Although, I've since learned that helping students or anyone laugh, live and learn from my experiences, both the successes and many mistakes, is my passion and maybe I didn't happen into it after all.

Side note: The laughs are really what I live for though. I can remember once, when I was about 4, sticking my foot in a bowl of pumpkin seeds just to make my friend Jessica laugh :-) still have that photo somewhere... My dream job would be part-time lounge singer/SNL cast member :-)

Now, as with anything, I have a lot of stories to go along with the aforementioned changes, but I'll save those for future posts... In the meantime, I'm setting new goals for myself and my life because I realized that I was just getting too comfortable almost to the point of complacency, which is never good.

Who knows what will happen in the next year... ;-)

"The ultimate measure of a person is not where they stand in moments of comfort and convenience, but where the stand in times of challenge and controversy."
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

The Secret Quarter-life Crisis

Why does no one warn you about the quarter-life crisis? Yesterday, I found myself aimlessly walking around the grocery store. Not knowing what I was looking for, I perused aisle after aisle. Sample after sample and cute displays galore couldn't lead me to a decision about anything. I couldn't figure out what I needed, if anything. Lately this is how I've felt about life. There are so many things to sample and aisles to go down but I'm having a hard time deciding what is for me.

According to Wikipedia, the term quarter-life crisis was coined in 2001 by Abby Wilner and Alexandra Robbin in their book, Quarterlife Crisis: The Unique Challenges of Life in Your Twenties. I graduated from college the year after this book was published. At this time, the aforementioned term was still as foreign to me as benefits and retirement; that would change.

While going through college, I never worried about what would happen afterwards, always assuming things would fall into place as they should. When I did start to occasionally worry, everyone would remark, “Oh you’re so young. You have plenty of time.” Or there was always the, “Have fun! You’ve got the rest of your life to work. Enjoy yourself now while you can.” Ironically when I bring up my current concerns about the ambiguity of my future, I still get almost the exact same responses. I’m tired of it! Can someone just tell me what to do!

We spend most of our early lives being told what we should do by a variety of sources: our parents, grandparents, teachers, preachers, counselors, friends, and TVs. However, once you hit that mid-twenty mark you are automatically supposed to know what to do and it’s just not that easy. The guidance and advice is still there but above it is this sense of personal responsibility that I think is sometimes a jolt for most young adults. More often than not, you find yourself thinking, “Ahhhh! I’m a grown-up now. I’ve got to figure this out on my own. When did I become a grown-up?”

When I was younger, I couldn't wait to "get grown.” While my mom did let me dress myself, as evidenced by this photo, she also made me wear underwear with my ballet leotards and I thought that was the most ridiculous thing ever. However, now I keep a picture book beside my desk with photos like this one that make me smile and remember my little girl ways because being grown isn't always as glamorous as I once thought it would be and no one warned me!

Now I’m drawing a blank and everything I start to write is not what I want to write. Hmm… Much like my topic. Ahhh! Is there no escape from the quarter-life crisis? Okay - deep breath-what am I thinking?

Quarter-life crisis symptoms first started for me about three years ago. My first year out of college I lived by myself and spent much of it getting used the 8 to 5, “real world” routine. It was a harder transition than I thought. Most of my college friends had moved away, I was lonely, and I think maybe a little depressed. The next year, I moved closer to downtown and split living costs with a roommate. This was the life. I partied almost as much, if not more, than when in college but this time didn’t have homework to worry about. It was great! That is until the “Hey, what am I going to do with my life?” questions began popping into my head.

I thought I was the only one feeling this way. Then I began talking with my friends and, low and behold, they were either having the same fears and frustrations as me or had them when they were around my age. Even my friends who always had a life plan didn’t seem to know where it was going. The main thing we agreed on was the fact that no one had ever told us about this life-after-college quest for meaning, purpose, and direction. It wasn’t until I started doing some research of my own that I learned most of the American population goes through some sort of quarter-life crisis between their mid- to late-twenties. There are now more recent studies and finding on this life period and there obviously were before I graduated as well but back then I just didn’t know what to expect or where to look.

Now, I’m at ripe old age of 28 and many of my friends are married or getting there. They are finding their path with someone by their side and looking to a future together. I don’t know if that makes things easier but it definitely changes the perspective. Although, what about those of us who are on our own? What is our path, our passion, our dream? How and when will we find them? These are the questions that keep going through my mind and maybe yours as well. However, I think it’s ok to be unsure and just not know right now. I know I don’t. Maybe my dream is helping someone else discover their dream? Maybe that’s my passion? I have so many and can’t seem to narrow them down. But I’m confident I will, in time. Soon I hope ☺