Señor Stash's Homecoming

The Fresh Mex

He's home. Señor Stash you will be missed.

Caca-lina

Cacalina and I were very close when I was a child. She is my first cousin. Her father and my mother are brother and sister. She was bold and outspoken and often got into school yard fights. Her nickname came about as she was known for pooping herself and hiding her underwear in the most random places around the house. I would often find poop filled undies in drawers and hiding between nooks. She went to all the trouble to hide them when I thought it would be easier to just throw them out. While I didn't envy her bathroom methods I did admire her ability to do as she pleased without thinking of the consequences. She rarely cared about the trouble she might have to endure or the outcome of her actions. We would pretend to be singers in a girl group and her sometimes overbearing sister (who I love dearly) Antionetta would try and take over the show. We would play tea time and fake English accents since we thought all people who were of high status and liked tea had an English accent. We weren't allowed to go outside since we lived in a motel. Cacalina would defy these rules and go out anyways to the local park which inspired me to do the same and take more risks. Cacalina got older and her ways stayed the same. We drifted apart. I missed her and her funny and exciting ways. I stayed in school and Cacalina slowly disappeared from the school yard and officially left when she was only 11 years old. I was left alone to fend for myself on the school yard and participate in the singing duo which was now a solo act. I would run into her in the neighborhood and the connection we once shared was no more. She was beautiful, tall, tanned, long thick hair and confident in her looks. While she was assured in her looks she lacked self worth and made some poor decisions. I wanted to intervene and Antionetta (her older sister) and I bonded over this. We became close almost like sisters, symbolic of the sister we somehow loss. All we wanted was for Cacalina to be the old her (without the poopy underwear of course). I sometimes see her on the streets looking disheveled, sometimes with no shoes talking to herself and cannot believe it is the same person. She barely recognizes me anymore and I sometimes don't want her to. I went to visit her during the birth of her last child. She seemed anxious and aloof. She was talking about her plans with her baby fully aware the county was taking custody but not acknowledging it. I hugged her and told her I loved her and she asked me to leave as she was feeling anxious as my Boo Thang was also in the room. I know she will never be the same but will always remember the Cacalina who was strong, beautiful and free.

Halloween at Work

Yes we are the lame team that made our own costumes out of cardboard boxes and construction paper. I was the Mexican Emoticon, I call him  Señor Stash.

Sunday Morning

Happy Halloween!

One of my fondest childhood memories is going trick or treating with my family. One year my mother took my brother Cream Puff (when he was at his most creamy and puffiest), my cousin which we called Cacalina at the time (she was notorious for pooping herself) and I trick or treating. This seems normal enough for any family on Halloween in America but not for my family. Cream Puff's costume was homemade with a Chevy's hat and drawn on mustache and red paint all over his face we called it a Mexican clown. Cacalina and I coordinated our outfits as flappers with dresses stalkings and all. My Granny was pretty busy and decided it would be a good idea to let my mom who was fully intoxicated at the time chaperon us. The weather was dark and chilly with some light drizzle coming down as we walked out of a sketchy looking motel on to the streets with a Mexican clown, two Flappers, and a mother with a small brown paper bag (not the kind you get at Bloomingdale's). At one point my mother was rolling around in one of the neighbors lawn making a spectacle for all to see. She asked us to push her on the lawn as she peed her pants on our Halloween journey. We laughed at her not fully comprehending the now obvious issue. This was normal for us. Later that night we met up with my older brothers and uncle Frankie who at the time were busy smashing pumpkins and terrorizing younger kids for their candy.  We all came back home and bartered our candies as my mother laughed and sang out of tune in the background holding her little brown paper bag. Others might say how could I make light of such a story well you didn't go home with a pillow case filled with candy and warm memories of your mom fully participating in the Halloween extravaganza.  Have a safe and joyous Halloween.  I'll always love my mama.

Just.

When my Boo Thang's wants to end a conversation with me he simply responds by saying "Just". I can ask him about anything, this can include what he thinks about the polices excessive force at the Occupy Oakland demonstration or how he feels about how detached our society has become to issues of poverty, violence against women and child labor, "Just". How can your answer be, "Just"? I go on a rampage with these responses and start to terrorize my neighbors with my high pitch voice and complete inability to accept his answer.  I can understand his urge to end conversations with me because I will admit I will discuss topics he has no interest in at great lengths. These topics usually include work, friends, family and how they want to destroy  me (a bit dramatic) and some other random tangents about food. I can see his face staring blankly pretending to be vaguely interested in what I have to say. When I ask what he thinks he just replies, "Just".

Lazy Afternoon

I need a diet coke and a Kit Kat.