A Helium-Filled Holiday

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One of my life goals is to make it to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade live.  Growing up, watching the parade was always one of the things that we squeezed into turkey day, right between the homemade cranberry sauce and chili bread.

I want to see the huge balloons anchored by armies of balloon holders (how does one get that job, by the way?).

I want to bundle up in a jacket and cute scarf.  I want to sip hot chocolate and hold the boy's hand in the street.

The parade always ushers in the real (not fake and overly extended) holiday season; if Santa makes an appearance at the parade, then by gosh, Christmas is on its way.

Warm wishes and big balloon hugs to everyone on this holiday!

Thank You

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Google "pictures of soldiers" and many of the resulting images show soldiers and puppies.  Playing with them.  Feeding them.  Pups in the soldier's fatigue pockets.

I immediately smiled at these pictures.  And I couldn't help but wonder whether my boyfriend had ever found small pleasures like playing with street puppy while he was deployed.  I knew, though, that that Google search was barely scratching the surface of all of the pictures of war.  These were the happy pictures, the ones that we all fall in love with.  We all hope that those photos portray what war is - scary enough to have to carry around a gun, but stable enough to be able to find time to play with puppies.

Google "soldiers crying" and war becomes more real (as real as Googling images from the comfort of a climate-controlled building can be).  That is where the true, raw emotion comes through, the unrestrained sadness and grief.  These are the pictures that scare the living daylights out of me.  Why?  Because I imagine my boyfriend in those situations.  I imagine him seeing the same things that caused the soldiers in the pictures to shed those tears.  I imagine him being vulnerable and shaken, being rocked to his core by something as powerful as death.  And my breath catches.

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I'm still learning about the military, about what it means to be a Ranger, and how a soldier deals with the tragedy that is guaranteed.  I understand that I will never know everything.  And of course, I will never understand the feelings and thoughts and relationships that form while in war.

But I can be supportive and thankful.  And that extends beyond people who are in relationships with soldiers.  Sometimes, we just have to think of our soldiers & veterans like the puppies in the pictures.  They're scared and sometimes helpless.  What they probably need most is a hug.  And a lot of lovin'.

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One Day at a Time

"The only way to live happily ever after is to do it one day at a time."
 -- Unknown


As of tomorrow, I will have lived 9,125 days here on this earth. 

Over 9,000 days.

That's a whole ton of sunrises and sunsets, of breakfasts and lunches, of ice cream cones and barefoot miles.

That's more tears than I can count, more hugs that have warmed my body and kisses that have made my soul soar.

In that amount of time, I have lived in four different states six different times (seems like I can't get away from the southwest).  I have cycled countless miles along the beach and up in the mountains.  My face has gotten sunburned and windburned and eaten by mosquitoes (don't ask).  

Looking back over more than 9,000 days is mind boggling.  So much has happened in those days.  So much has changed, whether it is my hair style, my shoe size or the boy who is holding my hand.  And yet, so much has stayed the course. My parents have loved me every single day, regardless of what I did in the 24 hours before or the 24 hours after.  I know that just like the sun will come up, they will love me.  That is a gift that not everyone can say they have.

I met my favorite person around day 824.  Even today, at the 9,124th day, and again in another 9,000 days, she will be the bestest sister a girl could ever wish for, or even have the gall to ask for.

Around day 8,245, I was a graduate for the third time in my life.  Wait, do I count kindergarten and 8th grade graduation in that?  Hmmmm...probably not.  Three times I have gotten up on a stage when my name was read, reveling in the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction, finality and beginnings, while also being scared out of my ever-loving mind.  I have become an educated woman who is constantly wondering, asking and learning.  I don't know exactly when babies become curious beings, but I am still as curious now as I was that day.







I lost my grandpa around the 6,390th day.  That was one of a handful of truly, deeply, heart-wrenchingly sad days of my time here. I have been blessed to have lived, so far, an extremely happy life, one that hasn't been hidden under rain clouds or despair.

Between days 8,925 and today, I fell in love and have given my heart, fully, to another human being.  Hopefully there are more days that feel like these in my future.






 

I became responsible for a life somewhere in the 8,000's.  Every day has been a learning experience: Dogs like to chew carpet.  Dogs like to pee on carpet.  Carpet starts to smell after being peed on too many times.  Dogs like to lick you.  Dogs eat a lot of food.  Dogs need a ton of exercise.  Dogs are truly wo(man)'s best friend. 





People always say, "Man, am I old," in reference to themselves.  And in some cases, it's justified...if you're 89 years old and have lived a full life.  But don't tell me that at the age of 28 or 34, you can truly call yourself old.  Sure, you might be 10,220 days into life, or even 12,410 days.  But what is that compared to 32,485 days.

32,485 days.  89 years. 

That's what I'm striving for (and more).  I want each and every one of those days to combine together to make a happily ever after.  I'm already a third of the way there, and think of all I have experienced up 'til now.  

Here's to tomorrow...and the next day...and the next...

My ID

I had seen the ads for Road ID in the Runner's World magazines that my dad would send me once he was done reading them (recycle, people).  I was intrigued.

For those of you who aren't in the know, Road ID is a bracelet that has some identifying info on it in the horrible case that you can't speak for yourself (see: being hit by a car).  You can put whatever you want on it - your birth date, contact info for next of kin, any allergies you may have, etc.

My gears started turning (the ones in my head) and I realized that no one would know who I was if I was lying on the side of the road unconscious.  Sure, Austin's tags say who I am, but what good would that be if A). he ran away when I got hit or 2). they called the number on his tag (my cell phone)...duh, I wouldn't answer cuz I'm lying on the side of the road!

So, I went ahead and bought a bracelet, thinking of my future unborn children who would need someone to birth them.

I have to say, I was a little skeptical about the size when I first got it - it looked like it could barely fit over Austin's paw.  And yes, it does require a little finagling when I put it on.  But, it fits securely when it's on and I barely feel it.  I make sure to always put it on when I take Austin out for a walk or when I go for a run or ride. 

When I was on the Road ID website and it prompted me to put in the information I wanted on the bracelet, my mind started wandering.  How do I identify myself?  In no particular order, this is what I came up with:

• I'm a woman.  Everything I am stems from the fact that my sex has been told no you can't, when really, anything you can do I can do better.
• I'm half Hispanic, a quarter Swiss and a quarter Chinese.  Each part of my background helps to shape how I view the world.
• I'm a romantic. I can't say hopeless anymore, because I've found my prince charming.
• I'm educated and believe that each and every child here in the United States, however they arrived, deserves an education.  Each of us should be given the basic tools that can help us become better people.
• I'm a Colorado girl in the deepest part of my soul.  There is almost nothing more perfect than the golden aspens in the fall.  Well, that and a good New Belgium brew with friends.  That's pretty perfect, too.
• I'm definitely a dog person. Cat's make me sneeze. And puppies are God's gift to man, so how can you argue with that?
• I believe that family is the most important thing in any person's life and that with a strong, loving, forgiving family, a person can be content in whatever they do.  I am in my family and my family is in me.
• I'm a voracious reader.  If it has words, I'm gonna read it.  Except maybe the creepy classified ads.  I don't read those. 

 

• I really, really, really want to be a writer.  I don't know if that will happen now, or later, or if ever, but I am going to strive to be a good wordsmith.  
• I'm a really good eater.  I'm not afraid of food, so I'll probably eat whatever you put down in front of me.  My aunt used to say, "I'd rather clothe her than feed her," in reference to a time in my life when I could eat a foot-long Subway sandwhich by myself.  When I was 13.
• I know that we should all be proud of our bodies (and most of the time I am), but there are certain glances in the mirror that make me want to do a few more sit-ups and run a few minutes longer.  
• I'm a lover. 
• I'm not ashamed to say I own a library card. And use it.
• I'm a homebody who is happy in her normal routines.
• I'm a runner who happens to run barefoot. Ok, ok...in Vibrams.
• I'm a worrier.  If I care about you, it's inevitable that I'll toss up a prayer about you every now and again.
• I'm a sister to an incredibly smart, funny, gorgeous woman who the world is open to...she just needs to figure out exactly how to conquer it. 

• Sometimes, I overcompensate and try to sound more knowledgeable or cultured than I am.
• I have been told that I have no taste in movies and that I've missed all of the "good" ones.  But I am also one who won't watch a stupid movie even if everyone else is watching it.  So there.
• Yes, I need validation that I am smart, beautiful, talented, fast, etc.  Maybe that's why I check Facebook several times a day - just to see if people have commented on my posts or photos.

Too bad all of this couldn't fit on my ID bracelet - those EMT's wouldn't know what hit them!

If Heaven Wasn't so Far Away

As I was driving home the other day, I heard this song on the radio and it made me think of my grandpa.

My grandpa, Jose Vigil, was never able to see any of his granddaughters graduate from high school, much less college.  He won't get to watch any of us get married or have babies.  He was barely a tangible presence in my younger cousin's life, as he died when she was still young; she has a few memories of him, but not too many.  My sister and I were lucky enough to have a solid childhood of experiences with him.

• Going to the shed to get the air compressor to pump up the old, worn-out-to-the-point-where-the-leather-was-smooth basketball.
• Drinking from the outside water spigot.
• Going tubing down the small stream on their property.  We'd enter the property, hop into the bed of the truck (the only place we could ride in the bed), and drive up to the stream.  There, we'd cruise down the stream for a bit, but usually it was too cold to stay in too long.  Once it was lunchtime, my grandma would feed us Vienna Sausages & potted meat on saltine crackers.  We'd drink it down with the barrel juice drinks (you know the kind).  Those were sweet, sweet times when life was wrapped up in that one afternoon.  Nothing could get better than that.
• Riding horses.
• Playing in the hay loft (which was usually cut short by my sneezes and runny noses...dang allergies).
• Watching baseball on TV with the sound off (the announcers never said anything worth anything).
• Making carne seca (beef jerky)...a little bit of salt, a little bit of pepper.

Remembering these times with Grumpy makes me smile and warms my insides.  Here's a little prayer up to you, Grampito:

We all miss you so much down here.  The family is not the same without you and while we somehow figured out how to on in your absence, there is definitely a big void.  I was lucky enough to grow up with you in my life.  I worry that Nieves' memories of you are brief & fuzzy - I wish she could have known & loved you like Pilar, Sierra & I did.

Gramita is doing ok.  Things are getting harder for her - maintaining the house and land, taking care of the animals, worrying about all of us ... please help her to stay strong and not give up.  Because without her ... I don't know what this family would do.

I think that you would be proud of the people your granddaughters have grown up to be.  Pilar is so bright and talented and with focus, could do so many things.  Sierra is a very smart girl who finds interest in new, surprising things.  She has huge potential now as she graduates from high school - I hope that she sees her potential as we do.  And then there's Nieves, who is probably the most caring, sensitive, loving child I know.  She is the definition of sweetness and I can't wait to see who she grows up to be.

Grumpy, I hope you are proud of me.  I've stumbled sometimes and I have tried my hardest to be a good person.  Please continue to watch over me and guide me to do what is right.

Fight On You Stalwart Ram Team

It's college football season, peeps!

And, this upcoming weekend is the Rocky Mountain Showdown, which pits in-state rivals against each other.  My beloved Colorado State University Rams take on the University of Colorado Buffaloes on Saturday.  This is a long-standing rivalry between the two schools and gives the winning team bragging rights within the state.  CU won last year (boo) and CSU won two years ago (yay!).  So, to get everyone pumped for the big game, here's our fight song.

Man, that's a great fight song!

I remember going to my first CSU football game as a freshman.  They were giving out free t-shirts to the first 500 or so students, so of course, we had to be there early.  Because we were newbies, we showed up WAY too early and ended up hanging out in the empty stadium while everyone else tailgated. Wow, we were nerds.  But hey, we got our free shirts!

Another staple of CSU football games is the singing of Fum's Song.  Thuman "Fum" McGraw played was a great football player for CSU and became one of its athletic directors after an illustrious football career for the Detroit Lions.  His song goes like this:

"I'll sing you a song of college days, and tell you where to go.
Aggies, where your knowledge is, and Boulder to spend your dough.
C.C. for your sissy boys, and Utah for your times, 
D.U. for your ministers, and drunkards School of Mines.
Don't send my boy to Wyoming U. a dying mother said. 
Don't send him to old Brigham Young, I'd rather see him dead.
But send him to our Aggies, it's better than Cornell.
Before I'd see him in Boulder, I'd see my son in hell!"

It should be noted that when CSU was first founded back in 1870, it was known as the Agricultural College of Colorado (hence the Aggies reference).  The name of the university has since been changed to Colorado State University, but in reference to it's agricultural heritage, we've been known to say, "Go Aggies!"  The school has also started a big push to remembering the history of CSU and every year, for the Ag Day football game, people wear the old school colors: pumpkin orange and alfalfa gold.

And then, how could anyone forget the famed CSU trombone suicide routine?!  The crowd goes absolutely CRAZY when the band busts this out in the middle of their marching routine.

Being part of something bigger and feeling like you are a part of a great community is awesome.  CSU taught me this and this week is big for us.  The Rams are going into the Showdown 2-0 and the Buffs...well, they're 0-2!!  I don't want to jinx anything, so all I'll say is, "Here we go Rams, here we go!"

The Inhumanity of Humanity

I was a freshman in high school ... still a newbie and figuring out my place in the pecking order that high schools inevitably become ... I had been hanging out in the commons area that morning and I'm not even quite sure how we heard about the attacks; a TV somewhere must have been turned on to the news, a teacher's feeble attempt to try to force something, anything, into our closed-off brains that only pay attention to cute boys, food and gossip ...

When the news broke, no one really knew what to do ... I distinctly remember one of my closest friends laughing and asking what the big deal was ... like planes fly into skyscrapers on a daily basis ... I yelled at her ... I couldn't help it ... my aunt worked in that building ... she was a secretary for one of the companies there ... and we had no clue if she had to work that day ... so I yelled ... "of course it's serious - people are dying!"  It's horrible to say, but that comment from that friend changed how I viewed her for the rest of my time in that small town ... she had been insensitive at the one moment when chaos was not of the controlled kind and all anyone wanted was for someone to reach over, hold their hand and gently whisper in their ear, "everything is going to be ok."

The rest of the day is a blur ... I'm sure we went to class and attempted to learn new things, but really, how can anyone focus on the quadratic equation when your brain is confused at the inhumanity of humanity?  Where had the goodness gone?  What causes one human being to turn on another?  Could I continue to believe in others? 

My aunt was fine ... she didn't work at the company when the towers fell ... the dark, heavy feeling that was sitting in the pit of each member of my family's stomach was slowly released when we heard that.  But many other families weren't as lucky as we were, and I wondered if it was ok to celebrate our news in a time that was clearly not cause for celebration.

It was odd ... initially, right after the attacks, we were all affected by it ... America had been attacked.  But slowly, 9/11 became just a day ... that's what happens when you live all the way across the country, when your office view doesn't change and you don't smell dust and death, don't taste the hatred at others ... we in Arizona were only smelling fall and tasting the new football season ... we were removed, far removed from what had happened ... TV stations didn't show highlights anymore and although suddenly we were in war, it didn't touch us ... I still went to cross-country practice and my mom still wouldn't let me date the senior football star.

Sure, I think now, we fly flags a little more proudly and we say Amurrica with a grunting sound, trying to prove that we know what it means to be a strong, free and powerful country.  But unless you were in New York that day, or unless you lost someone, or unless you went to fight when we cried war, I don't think 9/11 has the same poignancy.  I truly believe this.  For me, 9/11 is a day that reminds me that everyone is vulnerable.

I don't want to end with any cliches ... "we've banded together and are stronger because of it" ... because I don't believe in that at all ... 9/11 divided ... us vs. them ... good vs. bad ... U.S. vs. the world ... everyone's taking care of themselves ... isn't it time to reach over to someone you care for, hold their hand and gently whisper in their ear, "everything is going to be ok"?

Don't Hate on Disney

So I'm mandating (that's right, mandating) that today is Tuesday tunes because I didn't post yesterday.

Growing up, we listened to a lot of Disney soundtracks because we were obsessed with Disney movies.  And when I say a lot, I mean we had every main Disney song memorized.  This was a favorite:

Sigh.

How come dates in real life can't be like this?


Since me and my sister are two girls (clearly), we always fought over who got to sing the Jasmine part.  Same thing happened when we would sing songs from my sister's favorite movie, Grease.  I guess we learned  how to trade off...or maybe she bullied me into singing one part or the other.

And then of course, there was this one:

My sister's favorite Disney was Beauty and the Beast.  And how could all little girls not want to be Belle?  She was brunette, gorgeous and loved books.   

Although I remember the lyrics of the songs, what I remember most about these songs is spending time with my little sister.  We'd sit on the old red blanket and pretend we were soaring over Agrabah.  She'd collect Beauty and the Beast toys, while I'd try and get all of the 101 Dalmatians.  We'd march and pretend to fight when "I'll Make a Man Out of You" (from Mulan) came on.  We'd watch the movies over and over again...those are some lines I might be able to recite.  We lived, eat, breathed Disney movies. They were our childhood.

Many people say that Disney movies give children an unrealistic view of the world.  Sure, every girl ended up with the guy, even if she tried her darndest not to fall in love.  And yes, loose strings were tied up and happy endings were a must.  But really, a movie is a movie.  And unless that is all you are exposed to as a child, I do not believe that any harm will come out of watching them.  It is a parent's duty to show you other things and to tell you that not everyone looks like you but that's what real life is about. 

Disney movies are just that...movies.  Enjoy them and sing along with them.  I know I certainly will belt them out any chance I can get.

Being Left in the Dust

In high school, your friends are everything.  Sneaking out of class isn't fun if you do it by yourself.  Having sleepovers aren't the same if you're just sleeping over with your sister at your own house.  Passing periods are boring if you go straight from you locker to class.  Friends are your lifeblood and you swear up and down (and on every yearbook) that you will always be friends.  How could you ever make new friends and leave these ones behind?  The new friends won't know your history...they won't know you.

Of course, we all know that life happens.  You head to different colleges and while you try your darndest to stay in touch, there are just too many new things to experience at school that your daily calls get cut down to once a week.  Sure, you might see each other at home when you go back for Christmas.  But in spending time together during the holidays, you realize that somehow, even though you promised, something has changed.  It could be you.  It could be her.  In fact, it's probably a combination of both, even though you might think that you are still the same down-to-earth person you were when you left.  Don't kid yourself.  You are nothing like you were when you graduated from high school.

It's interesting how your friends become acquaintances and then how those acquaintances become people who your mom gives you updates on periodically because she sees her mom at the grocery store and politely asks what's new with the family.  Suddenly, you have no idea who that girl is that you were BFFs with.  She's married or still searching for love, but doing so without telling you every tidbit of her life, every secret that she can't tell anyone else.

The sad part?  You still want a remnant of what you used to have.  You seriously try your hardest to maintain a relationship - at the very basic level, a phone call every few months would suffice.  But suddenly, all you remember of her voice is what you hear on her voice mail message when you inevitably get it for the fifth time.  And suddenly, the sixth time doesn't come as easily, and you hesitate when you hear her voice...maybe this time, you won't say hello.

I don't know whether you were the one kicking up the dust or the one choking on it's gritty taste.  But maybe, just maybe, you remember that friend who helped you get dressed for prom or hugged you when you got a bad test score.  And maybe, just maybe, you'll want to pick up your smartphone during lunch and give her a buzz.  Or send her a text.  Or just let her know you're thinking of her.  And you remember what you used to have.  Because that's all she's looking for...some recognition that what you used to have wasn't just in her imagination.