Weighing In

Every now and again, little, everyday common occurrences remind me how many things I've learned in the last few years.  Little things that I take for granted now that seemed so difficult a few years ago.  Little things, that--once I've got them down--make life so much easier. 

Take the metric system, for instance. 

Six years ago, when I was living in Toluca (where they sell tortillas by kilo, not package), I asked my tortilla lady for a quarter kilo of tortillas.  Mario ate at work, so I was just feeding myself at the time, and there are only so many tortillas I can go through before they go bad, right?  The tortilla lady gave me a funny look, and I got my quarter kilo of tortillas. 

Now that I am an expert at ordering deli meat, I realize that ordering any fraction of a kilo (beyond half) is pretty strange.  If I wanted a quarter kilo of tortillas, I should have asked for 200 grams or 300 grams.  Once I finally figured that I can ask for things in grams instead of awkward fractions, life got so much easier.  Or less awkward, at least. 

Another case in the same vein:  when my parents came to visit, Mario and my mom found themselves cooking in the kitchen together.  My mom was teaching Mario how to make something.  I don't know if she was halving a recipe or simply using quarter cup/third of a cup measuring cups, but Mario was all of a sudden turning into all thumbs in the kitchen (not usual, as he's a very good cook).  Furthermore, he's an engineer, so his math skills are quite strong, to put it mildly. 

It took me awhile to wonder why he was so thrown for a loop, and then it dawned on me--thanks to the metric system, most of the world hardly ever has to deal with fractions!  While he has to deal with the empirical system at work, he just isn't used to it at home, in the kitchen.  OK, let's face it--he's just not used to measuring things when he cooks.  (Never mind that measuring things is essentially what he does for 12 hours a day at work.) 

But enough on the oddities of my husband!

Want to know what really made me a convert to the metric system? 

My bathroom scale.  In kilos.  Oh, yes indeedy!  Knowing that there are 2.2 pounds to every kilo, the metric system works in our favor when weighing ourselves.  I'll always fondly remember the first time I stepped on my in-laws' bathroom scale.  Oh dear sweet heavens, I just lost HALF my body weight!!!  Instantly!  Effortlessly! 

Honestly, 10 years later, I still get a bit of a thrill. 

So, for those who want to learn the metric system this fall, I'll be happy to import metric bathroom scales to Texas, Arkansas, southern Illinois and Indiana this summer.  Just let me know.  It's pretty exciting.   

Lazy Days

This is our fifth spring in Saltillo.  You'd think we'd have things figured out by now.  But we don't.  At least, not when it comes to the weather. 

Spring 2009:  quite warm, but pleasant.  Sometime in April or May, Mario (who loves warm weather) gave me an ultimatum:  either we were going to get air conditioning or a pool.  We both hate air conditioning (I'm still shocked he even suggested it), so 3/4 of our patio is occupied by the pool every spring and summer.  It makes me feel like I live in a resort. 

Spring 2010:  much like 2009, but spring came on like gangbusters, making it seem like winter got shoved out of the way in favor of summer. 

Spring 2011:  freakishly hot.  Above 30 degrees Celsius from March until October.  Joey was born at the end of July.  Awesome.

Spring 2012:  the heat never really reared its ugly head.  We set up the pool at the beginning of May, just because we knew that, sooner or later the heat would start.  It never really did.  We got in the pool frequently, but were also frequently cold because of it.  I began to resent that pool taking up 3/4 of my patio. 

Spring 2013:  downright cold!  When I was still wearing sweaters at the beginning of May, I had dreams that perhaps we would not feel the need to put up the pool at all this year.  I was starting to get kind of excited about that idea.  We could watercolor the patio's walls, learn how to jump rope, do yoga at night under the moon . . . oh, the possibilities! 
       
                       The kids and I went to Mexico City for two weeks in the middle of May.  One of the first nights I called Mario, he reported that he was bundled up, it being a mere 5 degrees Celsius in the house--5 degrees above freezing!  In MAY!!!  Then, then night before we came back, me mentioned that it was 35 degrees Celsius--in the house.  That's well into the nineties, for those of you stuck in Fahrenheit. 

                       I gave myself a week to figure out what was going on with the weather this spring, in order to make the big "do we put up the pool?" decision.  That Friday, when Mario came home and laughed at me as I was visibly melting at the kitchen table, the decision was made. 

                       The pool went up.

                       It's been glorious. 

                     

Friends brought over a bubble machine one day.  It was just fascinating.  We may have to get one and tease the daycare center on the other side of our patio wall. 

 

  

                      As irony would have it, it began to rain about two weeks after we put up the pool.  This cools things down considerably.  But I'm still glad we put it up. The kids now get in regularly at about 11, when it's still nice and warm, swim until 12:30, and then after lunch, when it really threatens rain, they nap (and rain makes them nap particularly well). 

 

So even if I only put up the pool in order to draw the rain clouds to this part of the world, I'm happy to have done it.  This desert needs all the rain it can get!

Gran Bosque Urbano

Today was yet another Saturday that Mario had to work, so were we going to stay home and boo-hoo ourselves?

No way!

We had a lovely morning at the Gran Bosque Urbano (the Great Urban Woods).  We only stumbled upon this park a year ago when friends invited us for a picnic.  But in our defense, I didn't have much access to a car until a year ago, so our park options were limited to those within walking distance--the Alameda and Venustiano Carranza.

This prarie dog is the park's mascot.  There's a giant prarie dog right at the entrtance, and this one is at the entrance to the children's area.  Joey thinks he's the greatest thing ever and gets so excited every time he sees the prarie dog--both at the parking lot and here, before the playground.

As much as we love the Alameda, the Gran Bosque Urbano has replaced it as our favorite park in Saltillo.  Why?  For me, it's all about the trees and grass.  I'm still astonished by how many trees and how much healthy, luxurious grass is in that part--grass that we're allowed to sit on and walk in!  (As opposed to the Alameda and far too many other Mexican parks.)

For the kids, it's all about the sandbox.  Today, we didn't even venture out to the swings, slides or other play equipment.  A solid two hours was spent in the sandbox.

Heaven.

For those who have kids older than sandbox-age, the area with the play equipment is really well designed.  It's a fenced-in circular area, and smack in the center is a covered area with picnic benches, so parents can sit in shady comfort while keeping an eye on the kiddos.  There is a special area for very small children (which includes the sandbox) and this had an additional fence around it.  Very nice.  They even boast decent bathrooms which are almost always in service and drinking fountains which sometimes work.  And often don't.

The park overall isn't that big, despite its grandiose name.  A circle track winds it way through the woods, good for a walk or jogging, or frustrating a four-year-old who's not used to going up hills on a tricycle.  It boasts a teeny-tiny lake, which has a concession stand and picnic tables with which to comfortably view the lake.  Swimming, wading, boating are verboten--unless they do begin to rent boats in the future, which they've had rumors of at the Chapulin and Deportivo parks.  I've never seen it, but near the lake there is a labyrinth, which older kids seem to like to run in and out of.   One of these days we'll check it out.

If we ever get out of the sandbox.

Old Wives' Tales Taken Out of Culture

I've been meaning to confess this for awhile, so here goes:

My small children drink coffee.  *gasp*

In the US, we're fed on the myth that coffee is just for adults, that it will stunt kids' growth, they'll get all hyped up on the caffiene and won't be able to sleep, etc, etc.  All our predjudices about coffee are part of our culture, not entirely based in fact (execpt that the effects of caffiene are pretty well documented, I'll give you that).

When I worked at a chilren's home and new volunteers from the US would come and see the small children drinking coffee right before bed, they were all generally out of their minds concerned about this.  "I've got to put a stop to this!  Kids drinking coffee before bed!  Tsk!"

But trying to stand in the way of culture is like trying to stand in the way of a moving train.  One person, no matter how concerned, can no change someone else's culture.  Everyone does it.  Everyone goes to sleep at night.  The average Mexican is, indeed, usually shorter than the average American, but that's thanks to genetics, not the effects of early coffee consumption.

Clara and I spent a month with my mother-in-law when Clara was about a year and a half old.  My mother-in-law LOVES coffee.  She also has a collection of child-size mugs.  After a month with the abuela, Clara decided that she loved coffee, too.  (She got half coffee, half milk mini-mugfuls.)  At the time, I was more concerned about her sugar intake instead of her caffiene intake, and would give it to her without sugar.  She still thought it was a best thing ever.

And now that I'm more liberal with the sugar, she's still a sucker for coffee, anytime we make it.

The Boy, on the other hand, is against hot drinks of any form.

Ironically, or perhaps because of this early exposure to coffee, Mexicans in general don't have the same addiction to coffee that gringos do.  I could be mistaken, but the Mexicans I know best regard coffee as a nice treat (a daily treat, if you're my mother-in-law, but a treat nonetheless).  Starbucks and the Italian Coffee Company do abound here, but I can't say I've met any Mexicans who have the same dependence on coffee that so many gringos have.  That, "Oh-My-God-I-Can't-Function-Without-My Morning-Coffee" dependence.

You know what I'm talking about.

Witnessing these two cultural views to coffee, I think I'll stick to the safer, less addicting route, and give my children coffee early in life.  True, there's no gaurantee that their gringo side won't rear up and they will become addicts eventually.

But I'll take my chances.  

Baby School?

Every now and then I think about going out and finding a job.  Or, as I have the luxury to wait a few years and ponder this question, what is it I REALLY want to do once the kids are in school?  Here in Mexico my options are pretty limited.  Teaching English is pretty much the only option.  I like kids, often the younger the better.  So as I continued down this train of thought I stumbled upon the idea of "English Daycare"!   Hmmm . . . this has possibilities. 

However, offering daycare services wouldn't bring in much money.  A lady down the street was advertising daycare for about $125 a week.  That's in pesos, people.  Maybe $10 bucks a week.  The daycare behind my house offers FREE daycare (they're co-sponsored by a church).  Obviously, because I'd be speaking to the kids in English, I could certainly charge more.  But would it really be enough money to be worth my time? 

Then I thought about play dates or English Gymboree or something like that.  Therefore, I wouldn't be tied to the long hours of daycare and could quite likely bring in about the same amount of money.  But who would really pay me to spend 3 or 4 hours a week with their kid so I could talk to them in English? 

It turns out, there is a market for this!  (And not just way out north where all the richies live.)

The man who owns my tortilla store stopped me the other day and asked me how young is too young to learn English.  "The earlier the better!" I replied.  It turns out that his daughter is 8 months old.  I"m interested, he's interested (and willing to pay me), so we'll work something out.

Or perhaps we'll simply exchange services, as I've been wondering how much Spanish Joey really understands.  Maybe in exchange for English "lessons" for tortilla store man's daughter, I'll send my son over to his house a few hours a week so they can fill his head with Spanish.

And if others are interested, perhaps we'll grow from there!

Oooo--the possibilities! 

Parras Double-Take

Mario worked the last two weekends in a row and I had enough.  I needed to get out.  Anywhere.  The trouble is 1) I haven't had much practice driving on Mexican highways, therefore I lack the confidence to go much of anywhere, and 2) we live in Saltillo, so there are very few towns and cities within four hours of us (half of those nearby towns and cities are off-limits, thanks to narco-violence . . . *sigh*). 

For a weekend our options are:
    1)  Monterrey--but I refuse to drive there.  I just don't know it well enough and it just re-joined our "safe" list, but I'm not looking to press my luck.  We'll take a bus one of these days.

     2)  San Luis Potosi--four hours south.  Just farther away than I wanted to go.  Plus, it's rumored to be packed during Holy Week.

     3)  Texas--but my parents were visiting from the US.  Seems kind of silly to take them back there for a weekend.  Let's face it--Laredo isn't THAT interesting, and anywhere that is interesting (San Antonio, South Padre Island) is just too far for a two-day weekend.

      4)  Parras--two hours west of here.  Small town, achieved Pueblo Magico status, so it's charming.  Not much to do, but it's always a good time. 

At the Estanquillo with a view of Santo Madero

Being my first trek onto the highways, I decided to try the easiest and most boring road possible . . . Parras it was! 

My plan was to take the kids swimming at the Estanquillo La Luz (a lovely, shady reservoir).  When we got there, it turned out to be chillier than we anticipated, but the three of us with swimsuits braved the water anyway.  Then we had lunch at La Casona (basically the only place we eat in Parras . . . find the plaza with the big kiosk (just past the plaza with the clock, La Plaza del Reloj, creo) find the Neveria Chepo and keep walking in that direction.  Pass Hotel Santa Isabel and it will be on the opposite side of the street).  Amazing beef.  

I was hoping to stock up on wine at Casa Madero, but we left town at 6 and they had already closed.  Nuts. 

Enjoying the very slippery kiddie pool

Warming up with Grandma

The very freshly painted kiddie pool.  Clara's swimsuit is now coated yellow.

Since I wasn't able to stockpile wine, we returned to Parras with Mario this weekend (the day before Easter).  Stockpiling accomplished. 

The chapel at Casa Madero, decked out for Easter.

Note to self (and anyone else who reads this, of course):  Parras gets PACKED the day before Easter.  People were waiting in a huge line for Casa Madero tours.  Usually it's the tour guides who are waiting around.  Oddly, I didn't see much wine leaving the sale house. 

We were hoping to re-visit the Estanquillo, but given the crowds at Casa Madero, we figured it would be packed with people.  So we plunked ourselves at the Casona again, wandered town, drooled over fantastic hippie jewelry on the Plaza del Reloj, enjoyed some ice cream, and called it a day. 

So thanks again, Parras. We'll be back. 

I just couldn't get over the fact that there was a line for tours.  And that many people in the line.  Wow.

But not for another two months or so. 

Being good little Mexicans and playing in the water on Sabado de Gloria.

Thoroughly enjoying his ice cream.

Four Pounds I Won't Be Toting Across Borders Anymore

For years, when people would ask me if there was anything they could bring back for me from the US, I was ready with an answer--peanut butter.

Peanut butter is sold here:  creamy, chunky, and natural.  But almost always in teeny-tiny containers for prices larger than I cared to pay.  Moving to the north made a tremendous difference, the jar sizes are a good deal bigger, but still . . . I had already conditioned myself into importing my peanut butter.

However, when we went to Texas for Christmas, I failed to realize that we were almost out of peanut butter.  So it never crossed my mind on our stockpiling trip to HEB to get that 4-pound jar which would see us through another year.

What to do?  Break down and buy the expensive Mexican stuff?  Nah . . .

See, after every party we attended over the Christmas season, we were sent home with multiple goodie bags.  Of course they're always filled with candy, but to plump up the size of the bag (and maybe to provide some nutritional value?), everyone adds a generous handful (or three) of peanuts.  After February 2ed we found ourselves sitting pretty on a lot of non-salted peanuts.

Do you eat non-salted peanuts?  Neither do we.  (But if you do, good for you!)

Do you see where this is going?  No peanut butter . . . lots of peanuts on hand . . .

Blended without oil

Yep, Clara and I spent a chunk of an afternoon shelling peanuts (Joey tried hard to help).  Then we popped them in the blender, added a little oil and salt, and after plenty of scraping we had peanut butter!

Homeade, sugar-free, natural peanut butter!  Woo-hoo!

While I didn't measure exactly how many peanuts I had, my rough estimates are:
       1 cup shelled peanuts
       1 tablespoon peanut oil (we tried vegetable oil the first time.  Unsurprisingly, it wasn't that good.  I wonder what coconut oil would make it taste like?)
        1/4 tsp-1/2 tsp salt

        Throw it all together in the blender.  Scrape the sides down then the blender is just whirring on nothing (fairly frequently).

Blending with oil (I think I added a wee bit too much)

         The hardest part is shelling the peanuts.  But if you've got a willing 4-year-old who just wants to spend some quality time with you, this definitely counts as quality time.

And yes, peanuts in their shells are sold in massive amounts quite affordable.  We will be doing this again.  And not just because I'm stingy. (Really, I'm not.  Or, I try not to be.)  Just like with the homemade yogurt experiment, I just wanted to try it out, just to see if I could.  After it turns out, I'm kind of like Tom Hanks's character in Castaway when he first lit a fire.  "I've made peanut butter!!!  PEANUT BUTTER!!!"

But then I continue to make the yogurt and peanut butter from scratch because they just taste so much better than the store-bought kind.  And I know exactly what is in them.

Did I tell you that it tastes better?

Final product--on an Oreo knockoff.  Mmmm.

So, if you're like me and balk at the price of natural peanut butter (or, live in Mexico and balk at the price of peanut butter in general), I encourage you to make it yourself.  It's beyond easy.