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Thursday, May 27, 2010

It hit me: living far away makes people forget you

As you know, I’m from Argentina and all of my family lives there. When I say “all” of them, I want you to imagine a huge group of people, roughly 60 relatives directly connected. I’m not talking about second cousins or distant relatives; 60 blood bounded individuals who get together every weekend for barbecues and know all the family secrets that cook below the surface.

This weekend was a long holiday in Argentina, remembering the Revolution and independence… in other words, there’s always a good excuse for some little time off.

My father has this strange ability to be like a magnet to every family member in need of a Holiday place. My stepmom always has to buy groceries for 30 people, even though at first, only 12 where going; because between the moment when the decision gets made and the get-go, the phone doesn’t stop ringing and every cousin, uncle, boyfriend, husband, wife, friend wants to join the party (they’re so predictable).

I always try to call them during these oversized family reunions because with one phone call I get to talk to everybody and hear about all the family gossip that I missed because of the distance that separates us.

They climb on top of a water mill to get some signal in their cell phones, so there’s always this creepy feeling when I call, that someone is going to fall over their asses on the ground and I’m going to be held accountable. I hear the wind and how they switch hands with the phone and all the time I’m like:

Me: Are you there? (I was talking to someone but there’s another one of them in line to talk to me)
Them: it’s my turn now… Hello?
Me: Who’s this?
Them: Hi! It’s me… (No idea who that is). You’re missing so much… wait, I’m switching hand because the other one is getting cold (its winter there)…. Much better now.

And while they talk, I cannot concentrate in another thing other than the fact that they’re hanging 90 yards above the ground, on the top of a water mill!!

My father never climbs up to use his cell phone, country house for him it’s the freedom of being disconnected from the world. However, in this particular weekend, he ascended to the top and waited in line for his turn after all my siblings and cousins bombarded me with news and greetings.

It is not unknown for fathers with a brace of daughters to reel off their names in order of ease of memory when summoning the estranged one that lives abroad. I had long ago become accustomed to being: “Sofia… Dolores…Pilar… Damn it!"

This is his usual greeting for me… I got baptized with only one first name, but circumstances greeted me with the longest first name ever… can you imagine if all my big sisters where in fact brothers?

So much for self-esteem and being unique in a family nucleus… greetings from me, or her, or her.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The ending of my Fall TV Series brings me to the harsh reality of the boring Summer TV Calendar

I think I’m not the only one that would miss Jack Bauer’s 24, or Lost’s never ending rescue of that god forsaking island… but most importantly, Grey’s Anatomy and Vampire Diaries would have to wait until September to return to our schedules.

I find Summer Series really boring… True Blood is the only TV show disturbingly enough that gets my attention, but with all the vampire things going on, it becomes another insignificant program.

We still have some Glee episodes left (for the happy smile of my best friend who shares the liking of this show with me even though my husband thinks it’s the most girlish, childish, ridiculous show ever and runs out of the room every time I start singing along – which makes me wonder if it’s for my voice or the show… mmmhh).

For the lovers of a more “detectively” show, Castle and The Mentalist would be much awaited for (and please don’t ask: Castle who?).

I’ll have to resource to my books for some entertainment, and the cinema, with a much awaited Sex and the City 2 and Eclipse (another vampire thing that we all love… ahhh, so you don’t have to ask Edward who? Ehhh????)

I have a pressing presentiment that I’ll be receiving several visitors this summer… it doesn’t matter if it’s the liking of a cold Christmas season or to visit a flowery Central Park, tourist from our families always have the best excuse to land in our apartment.

Luckily, I’m a working wife now, which is the best excuse to run away from the sightseeing and museum hoping activities. Who can endure a hot Manhattan day while being a tour guide for the hundredth time?

Looking forward for the summer season in our Big Apple… no visits to the Hamptons though, when you have a husband from the Dominican Republic, it doesn’t matter how convincing you can be, nothing beats a beach in the Caribbean… common area pool for me.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

An antibiotic that doesn't exist, an erupting volcano (and not of gas), Boston and the city of Amsterdam... that's what you missed on: ME!

Sorry for the delay, I was dying to write about my amazing life; however the timing was always awful.

My husband and I traveled to Boston for his Master’s graduation. Considering that being in enclosed spaces while in inactivity makes me nervous, a four hours trip unable to move brought all of my impatience afloat and I could hear in my husband’s voice that he was resisting the urge to strangle me… strangely I get this a lot… I’m still alive so his endurance is admirable.

We attended a Stand-Up comedy event (which I found quite therapeutic) where a 40 year old mom beat the tears out of our eyes and was even funnier that the two leading male comedians (www.momicillin.com); so much for boring household anecdotes.

Then I traveled to Amsterdam for 4 days. Planes make me nervous also (what else is new?), but the fact that I don’t know the Flight Attendants in a personal manner prevents me from pestering them as I do with my husband.

Amsterdam was grey, a bit dirty (considering the garbage piles in every corner) and full of canals (Venice is a dry land in comparison). The most shocking thing where the “Coffee Shops” where instead of having a variety of coffee grains offered to you, you could have a decent “flight” without even bothering to go to the airport.

In my return flight I stopped in Iceland and I got a glance of Eyjafjallajökull… You expect that a volcano’s name would be easier to remember than this engulfing of letters forming an unpronounceable word. Can you imagine in the state of an emergency?:

RUN!!! Ey… Eyja…. Eyjakallajul… uhh??? THE F&^%ING VOLCANO IS ABOUT TO ERUPT!

Colossal error in name choosing let me tell you.

Between the road trip to Boston and the overseas flight to Amsterdam, I arrived at my house jet lagged, bored of restaurant food, tired out of my mind so the only thing that I could offer my husband was complete and utter silence.

A woman’s silence is wonderful to listen to… I think my husband would agree on that.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Beautify-Me process or Hard-Core movies?

I’m heading to Boston with my husband for his Master’s graduation ceremony and then I’m traveling to Europe for a work thing and I’ll be out of my house for several days, without the luxury of my dear manicurist, pedicurist, blow-dryer, hairdresser…

You really started believing for a minute that I was fretting about beauty, didn’t you?

Don’t you know me long enough to recognize that I don’t have that particular gene in my feminine contexture?

Nevertheless, since I’m traveling tomorrow, I needed to “re-touch” my natural and immaculate beauty (attained with several layers of concealers and age rejuvenating products that set the word “natural” out of the sentence) with a visit at the Nail salon.

As usual, I’m out of time and a lot of things in my To-Do list, and the most important of those DO things is going to the movies with my husband to see the recent premier of Iron Man 2.

I’m always complaining every time we decide to go to an action film because that’s the way it’s supposed to be!!

I can’t possible enjoy Terminator or Hulk or Transformers, I need to make him feel miserable and to appreciate my sacrifice, so when the next Chick Flick arrives at the box office, he must definitely take me (or else).

But, who am I kidding?

I love the thrill of the scenes, the explosives and bullets, but most importantly, who can resist a beautifully formed 6-pack on our hero’s chest? (No offence to every beer belly out there).

So this afternoon I need to head to the manicurist but at the same time, I cannot miss the movie with my husband!

Well, if it comes to a point where I shall decide the most viable and needed choice… please come find me at the Lincoln cinema, in the IMAX theatre, seated next to my husband, enjoying Iron Man 2.

Don’t reprimand me; I’m not your typical gal.

PS: After we enjoyed a night out, with dinner and a movie, I had to get home, make the bag for the trip, wash my dog, paint my nails and blowdry my hair... at 2 am in the morming I realized that Beauty is a tough price to pay for an Action Film.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

I'm sixteen... going on eighty (la, la, la, la, la)‏

After my jam-packed birthday (considering that this year we were more than our usual three people – my husband, our aunt and me), my week passed by with “non-worthy to comment” incidents.

One would expect that being a business woman would add excitement to your life experience, but other than some highway crashes and some heavy rain, my days went by in a soothing mode.

Yesterday was my haircut day. I have one of those every five to six months because I can’t possibly fit that tedious task in my schedule.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to be pampered by experienced hair dressers and their top-of-the-line shampoos, but it pains me (and my wallet) to pay more than forty bucks to get my tips cut.

But after almost six months without stepping under the scissors, I decided that my hair needed a strong rejuvenating treatment.

As you might already guessed, I don’t know many salons, I don’t have a preferred hair dresser nor I care if he’s recommended or not. I just want to go in and out of the place as fast as I can, because to put it mildly, I get really bored with insignificant chit-chat while someone has scissors in their hands and I’m concentrating not to snatched them and beg him/her to please pay attention!! It’s my head we’re talking about!!

(Another Taurus perk that comes with the horoscope: we always want to control everything around us).

While Israel (the hairdresser’s nickname… even thou he’s Russian and his real name is Boris) was manning the scissors, chit chatting away and cutting my hair, I was holding my breath and counting to a thousand so I wouldn’t snap at him.

He did a good job, I’ll give him that… the only inconvenience arrived when out of nowhere he started analysing my hair, its strands and roots, if it was wavy, dyed, etc. and with pin-point eyes he grabbed a WHITE HAIR….

Do you know how difficult it is to find a WHITE HAIR in a blonde’s head?

My first white hair and I have the awful luck that it was found by other person without giving me the possibility to cut it from root before someone (other than me) knows that I’m stepping out of young, into ancient.

I’m 26 years old, one white hair (reported found, who knows how many more do I have up there) and have four more years to prepare for full decrepitude.

30, here I come.

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