Mission Accomplished!

Way back in the fall, thanks to a fit of local pride and possible inspiration from Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, I decided that instead of buying nuts from the grocery store, the Rodriguez Douglas family was only going to consume local nuts, as pecans are one of northeast Mexico's most abundant crops and in season in the fall. I happily bought two kilos of local pecans.

Problem is, they don't come shelled.

I thought to myself, "no problem! I need something to do with my hands while I watch Clara spend hours and hours playing on the floor, right?"

Right.

Back in 2001, I did a lot of pecan shelling when I lived in New Mexico and had a pecan tree in my backyard. I recollected that it was a lot of work, but rather satisfying in the end. So I rolled up my sleeves in November, sat down to work, and gloried in strewing pecan shells all over the backyard. I did enjoy it after all, and Clara rocked out to the sound of unshelled pecans dropping into a metal pot.

Furthermore, these pecans tasted divine. For the flavor alone, I may never go back to buying Soriana's already-shelled variety. After a long day of shelling, I'd set the finished product on the kitchen table, Mario and I would spend our evenings clustered around the computer, watching Top Gear on YouTube, while polishing off the "fruit" of that day's labor.

Now, four months after I started, I finally finished shelling all two kilos of pecans. How many pecans do I now have to eat? About half a cup.

Taking into account how much the shells weigh and how much work it took to get those pecans out of their shells, Soriana's price of 50 pesos for a quarter kilo isn't really too far off the mark. I bought one kilo of unshelled pecans for the same price. I don't know that I really saved much money by buying in bulk and shelling by hand.

But that sweet, nutty, fresh taste made it so worth it.

I'll be shelling pecans again soon.

Are Taxes Killing You, Too?

Mario has been sick all week and has been eating his way through rolls of Halls like his life depends on it. He told me that he bought all the rolls that were in the vending machine at work and then sent me to the OXXO to buy two more rolls. He gave me full liberty to choose any flavor that sounded interesting, so what did I choose?


Yes! Beer and lime Halls!

If we find that the beer habit is just getting a bit too expensive after that massive tax increase at the beginning of the year (15%), Halls has offerered a solution: beer candy.

Awesome, right?

I hope so, for Mario's sake.

And for those of you in the US, moaning about paying your taxes and possibly facing additional taxes to pay for possible improvements in health care (I feel your pain), think of us here in Mexico. We were socked at the beginning of this year with news that taxes on just about everything would be raised, without the benefit of any new or improved services to look forward to (or the hope such services). We just get to watch Congresspeople drive away in their new, enormous, gas-guzzling SUVs or fly away in their helicopters (the new gas taxes apparently don't affect them).

Meanwhile, at 5 pesos a roll, I'll suck away on those Halls. Definetly cheaper than beer. And a whole lot less satisfying.



By the way, if any government officials are reading this, I am in no way criticizing the government, its elected officials, or its policies and would like to remain a law-abiding, tax-paying resident of this beautiful country.

It's On It's Way!

Yes, it may be February 20th, but spring is in the air. Today I ventured downtown with only a T-shirt on, and still managed to work up the slightest of sweats. Of course, everyone else I saw was sporting sweaters.

For those of you surviving winter in the still-frozen north, I really do not mean to rub this in your face. Really, it's my way of spreading hope. After all, if spring is finally making an appearance here, then sooner (as opposed to later) it's bound to head north. If we were still freezing, it would mean that you all would be freezing for that much longer. That's all.

Yesterday, Clara and I celebrated our freedom from freezing by going to the Venustiano Carranza Park, about a 10 minute walk from our house. I think it's actually closer than walking downtown, but the sidewalks are not at all stroller friendly and, in order to get into the park from the entrance on my street, it's necessary to climb about 100 stairs--give or take a few. But we busted out the baby carrier and conquered the stairs, grateful to spend time outside after being confined indoors.

The Parque Venustiano Carranza is situated on top of quite a tall hill on the south side of the city. The first time I went there, my friend Chris and I had just walked to the Aurrera on Echeverria from my house, were getting hot, tired, and sweaty, so in huge need of a break. We plopped down on a picnic bench at the park, gloried in the breeze fanning our faces, and promptly froze our fannies off. It's ALWAYS windy. On hot days, the park makes for a wonderful place to cool off. But on cold days, the breeze can be rather torturous. Yesterday was an exhilarating mix of skin-warming sun and fresh air.

On the way over, Clara had fallen asleep in the baby carrier. After the 100+ stairs with her additional 8 kilos on my already weak back, I risked waking her up in order to sit down. Once wide awake, I spread a blanket on a patch of grass that I found and almost immediately a trio of middle school girls flocked to us, ready to flirt with Clara. They were fun to talk with, asking questions here and there. I could tell they were often searching for something new to ask, so as not to be rude and silent. Since they were making such an effort, I did my best to improve my social skills and ask them questions, too. All too often, I lapse into contented silence, which I realize may not be so comfortable for others. [My apologies if you've been on the uncomfortable end of my silences--not intentional!]

Finally, the breeziness did get to us, and we packed up, headed down the stairs, and on home. As long as this weather holds, perhaps we'll have to have a picnic next week!

For those of you stuck in the snow--you're always welcome to visit!



Photo captions: A great view of the soccer field. Random kids balancing on a fence. Dancing statues at the park's entrance. The view from the top. [Sorry that the captions as scattered about. Blogger doesn't make it easy to line up photos and captions.]

El Camino de Dolor y Encuentro

My personal history with the season of Lent tends to fly in the face of the reasons behind this time of fasting and repentance. Maybe it's because I've spent so many Lents in Mexico, where spring is making some significant gains. When the sun is shining and the temperature turns warmer, I'm compelled to celebrate life, leaving the reflection of my own/humanity's fickleness to another time of the year.

However, despite the sunshine, this is the time of year devoted to that reflection.

I remember one Ash Wednesday at Valpo when spring broke forth in bloom early that year, and on my way to the chapel my soul was singing with the birds in the trees. "From ashes you came and to ashes you will return" clashed horribly with the song of my soul that day.

Again this year, Ash Wednesday was misplaced on my personal calendar. Last week I found another gringa married to a Mexican, living in Saltillo, and she's connected with a church full of other expatriates living in Saltillo. They have a women's group that meets on Wednesday mornings (and provides childcare!). I showed up with wings on my feet, hovering just off the ground, so happy was I to have a gaggle of other adults to talk with.

Again, not excatly a somber day of reflection.

But maybe Lent will start to click with me after all. This morning Clara and I walked through the stations of the cross with about 20 other people from my neighborhood church. I hadn't ever done that before, and thought it might be a good discipline and help to get me in the "right" frame of mind.

As we were finishing, the seminarian who led the group mentioned that the Stations of the Cross is "un camino de dolor y encuentro." (a path of pain and . . . finding?) [if anyone has a better translation, please leave a comment.] By carrying my one-year-old on my hip the entire time, I completely agreed about the "road of pain". Oh, my poor back.

And, halfway through the stations, the husband of one of the women there brought in her little boy, roughly around Clara's age. They flirted with each other for the last few stations. I did, too, of course. And so did the boy's mom. So, through this experience I found one more potential friend in my own church, my own "encuentro".

It might not be exactly what the seminarian meant, but I do think God may have been smiling at me a little.

So thanks for that little bit of sunshine, God, at the end of that "path".

Hoarding the Videos

I realize that nearly all my posts lately have been about the girlie. However, it's cold and rainy outside, so we're not getting out much, and therefore about the only source of inspiration I've got!

I've been meaning to post these videos for awhile now, as I know my parents will enjoy seeing them. And if anyone else wants to join them in this shameless Clara-fest, be my guest!

I apologize that the first two are sideways. If anyone can help me straighten them out, using QuickTime or Windows Picture Manager, I'd appreciate it. These were taken maybe a month or two ago.

The last two videos were taken in August, when Clara was really into making monster noises. The makes better noises on the first video, but we didn't have the lights on in the room. So the first video is audio, the second is visual (because I guess she got tired of being a monster five seconds into that video).

Happy Valentine's Day!

Most holidays in the Rodriguez Douglas household don't get the attention that other families give to special days. For example, last Easter, the only means by which we celebrated Easter was to go to mass (much like all the other 51 Sundays in the year). However, that was the only Sunday Clara cried through mass and had to be escorted out. Besides me baking a lemon merangue pie, it was just another Sunday. Had Mario's parents not visited us for Christmas, I have a feeling that Christmas would have come and gone in much the same manner. Rather sad. But Mario just doesn't seem to get excited about holidays and the dates tend to creep up on me and catch me unawares, leaving me completely unprepared to celebrate anything.

So I had no expectations for Valentine's Day. When we were dating, we used to count Valentine's Day as our anniversary, because we knew that we began dating sometime between the end of January and the end of February. Every once in awhile, Mario even went out of his way to make the day special, giving me flowers in 2003, wine and chocolate in 2007.

This year, after trying to fix the shower all day on Saturday, Mario was faced with three months' worth of receipts to enter into the computer for his personal accounting. I knew it would take all day, so did not have any plans to do anything special. However, on Friday he had mentioned that it had been awhile since he cooked and he kind of missed it. To which I responded, "hey--knock yourself out!" I requested pork chops, as the man makes magic with pork chops. As 4pm rolled around, Mario was still in front of the computer, knee-high in receipts, denying being the least big hungry, and announcing that he would not be able to cook after all. Given the amount of work he did all weekend, I completely understood. As Clara and I attacked a liter of yogurt, Mario was apparently doing to reconsidering and decided that he would be able to cook after all, as long as I could wait until 5. No problem.

I poked my head in the kitchen a bit after 5 and noticed that he had buttered and basiled some of the sourdough bread, which was toasting in the oven. A pot of macaroni was on the stove for a first course, and he was preparing the chops as he ordered me out, claiming that the meal was to be special.

So, in the end, we broke Rodriguez Douglas tradition and celebrated Valentine's Day after all with a lovely, delicious, candelit dinner, a bottle of Casa Madero's Merlot (a winner), and dessert of chocolates that we had been hoarding since Christmas. Clara, reinforcing the idea that she is just a little woman, LOVED the chocolate.

Things are rather slow this week, with Clara fighting a cold. However, there is an upside to having the constant stream of snot wiped all over her face--she's taking two-hour naps! I might have expose her to more children and their germs. It's not all bad.

Since she's zonked out and I can't play with her, here's a list of some of the Clara's more recent accomplishments or other ways she keeps herself entertained.

• She has discovered how to insert her index finger into her nostril. No real surprise that Jill is raising a nose-picker. Fortunately, she has not yet realized how to get anything out. Thank goodness I keep her fingernails short.
  

• She has decided that every 2-liter bottle or empty gallon of milk is her toy, whether she actually plays with them or not. I found this out the hard way last week as I was taking out the trash. Clara was happily playing on her blanket with her stuffed animals and measuring cups when, scavenging around the kitchen for more trash to throw out, I callously squashed an empty plastic quart of milk. Immediately, broken-hearted cries issued from the adjoining living room, making it clear that I was throwing away a most treasured companion. I had no idea.
  

I now squash plastic bottles in the dark of the night.

• She is trying really hard to sit up on her own. That is, she tries really hard whenever she feels like it, and two days can pass before she remembers that it might just be useful to be able to push herself up to a sitting position when she gets tired of laying down. So most of the time whenever she falls over, she's content to just roll around on the floor. No doubt she already knows that if she happily rolls around for long enough and then protests, I'll come and rescue her. However, whenever I do offer my hand as an anchor, she can pull herself up the rest of the way. Unfortunately though, that's probably not really helping her figure out how to do it on her own. She'll get there. And I really do try not to interfere.
  

• A spoon loaded with food and propelled by the girlie now makes it into her mouth! This is brand-new as of this week. I still load up the spoon for her, but now that she's having some success maybe next week I'll see what she does if I put a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. Then again, maybe I'll wait until it gets warmer, so we can eat outside and I can hose her off afterward.
  

• And, despite the very cool set of plastic pots and pans that Mario's mom gave her for her birthday (and are a hit), her favorite toys are still the box of baby wipes, the box of eyedrops, and the nail clippers. Really, why is there such a market out there for infant/toddler toys? Despite the amazing selection of "real" toys laying around our house, she still prefers those everyday, useful little tools. No surprise. However, those which pose an element of danger are exceptionally appealing.
  

Thank goodness she can't get around on her own yet.

Destination: Driving from near the border to south of Mexico City

Earlier in January, Mario and I looked over the calendar to see when he'd have long weekends. When we discovered that Constitution Day fell on the 1st of February, we decided to spend that weekend in Jojutla with Mario's family, celebrating Clara's birthday.

Our plan was to leave as soon as Mario got back from work on Friday evening, spend the night in San Luis Potosi (4 hours away) and drive the remaining 6+ hours on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone else in Saltillo had the same idea and they were all driving down our street, keeping the traffic at a crawl.

"So what do you think about leaving at 2am?" Mario suggested.

"Wow--that's a terrible idea," I thought in my head. However, what came out my mouth was something more to the effect of, "hmm . . . what do you think?" Mario did plan on doing the entire 12-hour drive himself, so it really was his call, not mine.

After hemming and hawing for about a half hour (and Mario admitting that he was already a bit tired), we went to bed at 7pm. We woke up at about 1am and were on the road by 1:30.

I thought it was funny when we stopped for gas at 4am that Mario and the gas attendant wished each other good morning. It sure seemed like the middle of the night to me.

But it really wasn't that bad. As we were passing Queretaro, the sun was rising and it was as if we were starting over fresh with the new day, the mountains surrounding us, and the desert behind us.

We finally stopped for breakfast in Santiago Tianguistenco (Estado de Mexico) and enjoyed some excellent quesadillas, chilaquiles, and a liter of blackberry juice. I never knew that blackberries could be juiced. They can. And they're delicious.
[For anyone interested, this excellent juice bar can be found on the road from La Marquesa to Santiago Tianguistenco, very near Santiago, on the right side of the road with a very loud orange awning. If you pass the Freightliner factory, you've gone too far.]

It was totally worth the 24-hour round-trip drive, and Clara's crazy mamitis that followed, so that we could spend our weekend warming up in Jojutla with Mario's family. Maybe we'll do it again.

But not anytime soon.