Let’s go… Slaho!

I love to BBQ. It’s quick and easy and when there are paper plates available it means minimal cleaning afterwards. So when I can find a moment to BBQ, I do. Such was the case today. On Monday, it was my youngest’s second birthday, so we invited the family over and we made some burgers, hot dogs and italian sausages on the grill while taking the opportunity to jump in the pool (only men of course, for those wondering, along with ALL the kids, about 15 in total, and for the last half hour I was alone! Not fair). I always get ragged on for trying to be exact with the food I make, but the truth is I hate seeing good food go to waste, so my count allowed for leftover uncooked burgers. That meant that today we could have burgers. SWEET!

So, I BBQ’ed the burgers and I brought them out to eat. It was then that I realized that we only had ONE hamburger bun left. We had plenty of OTHER bread (a loaf of whole wheat bread, another of honey wheat, and about a dozen hot dog buns plus half a dozen English muffins), but we were down to the LAST hamburger bun. This is a problem under normal circumstances. You see, two of my kids refuse to eat burgers unless they are in HAMBURGER buns. Fortunately, today one of those kids was eating something else, having chosen to make chicken nuggets, so the remaining child had the hamburger bun. One of my other kids, who doesn’t really care what kind of bread is on the burger and I each had a burger on 100% whole wheat, and my wife chose to eat the burger without bread (she does this from time to time… it wasn’t a bread issue).
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Most of you, if your Cuban, are probably wondering if maybe I meant to write Ño! It is something we so ordinarily use and for any reason whatsoever, that I’m sure that it at least crossed your mind. Well, it’s not. But maybe in the near future I will choose to write a blog entitled “Ño!” so that you won’t feel so bad for entering to read a blog clearly far from what you’d expect it to be… whatever your expectations would be of course because I’m not even sure what a blog with that title would be about! Now back to my original topic.

NO. A fabulous word. It means the same thing in three languages, and can be understood easily in a number of other languages because it sounds quite a bit like THEIR no (i.e. “non” in French). It’s one of the first words out of a child’s mouth. It definitely comes MUCH before any version of yes regardless of primary language. With my three boys NO came before PAPI, and in one case months before. Kids learn it quickly because we’re always using it when they’re going to do something that we’d rather not have them do. This happens often. And they hear it very clearly when we catch them doing something dangerous, after they somehow sneaked away from our sight when we could have sworn we were watching them carefully… like picking up something made of glass, or moving to touch something boiling, or trying to stick a metal object into a light socket (none of these things have ever happened to me… but I could just imagine. OK maybe one of these happened but only once and I won’t say which kid or which of the previous cases), and usually in these cases it sounds more like NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! (Insert slow motion footage here)
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This is going to be a short blog… I just wanted to share what came to me today while watching TV with my kids. I actually enjoy some of the shows my kids watch more than the stuff on the networks.

My kids lately have gotten into shows like iCarly and Wizards of Waverly Place. Both of these shows have cheesy production and below average acting, but they have one thing in common. They make me laugh. They are downright silly, and I can’t help not only enjoy them, but to think back to a time when TV shows could be watched by kids without having to worry about what was being discussed in the show. The humor in these shows is more along the lines of shows like The Three Stooges with some great physical humor or like a Welcome Back Kotter where each kid fits a particular stereotype and does his best to personify that particular stereotype for laughs. The good news is that there don’t seem to be negative stereotypes in general such as Blacks or Hispanics or Asians or Christians or Jews depicted in a certain light for laughs. The stereotypes are the ones we find in are families and friends… the one who has no common sense, the one who likes to pig out, the nerd who studies incessantly, the computer geek, etc. They are characters that to this day I can relate to (maybe b/c I’m a high school teacher), but that my kids also can relate to. I can’t help but chuckle (and wince when in iCarly the character of Gibby takes off his shirt to dance, well because he likes “to dance… with my shirt off”, and proceeds to start doing the same silly moves that I remember ragging on kids for doing back when I was a kid. And I can so relate to the conversations between Justin and Alex in Wizards where the classic bookworm who knows it all but has no common sense keeps getting outsmarted by his underachieving yet streetwise younger sister time after time. And their dialogue is just plain funny.
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Blind faith stinks. No, don’t misinterpret what I’m saying here… it is good to have faith, and blind faith is its purest form. But being in a position where you must have faith blindly is REALLY difficult, almost impossible, and unfortunately can really test a person. So HAVING blind faith is a great thing (particularly if its in someone that deserves it like, I don’t know, GOD, maybe?) but finding a way to achieve it really stinks.

I am currently in a situation that calls for blind faith. We are reaching a crossroads in our life (Dania and I are) and we know that some tough decisions have to be made. We have taken the first steps, and now are waiting for God to step in and lead us in the right direction. We know that trusting in him will allow us to get through this particular hardship, but how and when this situation passes or is resolved is beyond us. Now don’t start worrying about us too much… this is not something that is tearing us apart, nor is it something related to our health, or bringing another child into our lives (please, God, four is enough… don’t get any ideas here, OK?). This just has to do with decisions that will help shape the future for our family. We’re just not sure what the best decision is right now.
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Here are some of the quotes made by or to friends of mine over the years that have made me laugh the most. A large majority of these you, the reader may not even find amusing. But to me they gave me priceless memories… you had to be there type of memories. I’m putting them here more than anything so that I make sure I NEVER forget them. I am putting them in no particular order… just as they come to me. I will also do my best to give a point of reference for each quote so that the reader will at least get a gist of the context. And thanks to all my friends for these great laughs!!

“Those ducks are CRA-zy” : Enrique Montoya
This quote was said as we were driving to North Carolina back in 1988 to go skiing. Enrique saw some ducks swimming in a partially frozen pond…

“Pretty sad if you ask me!” : Adriana Suarez
Adri said this during a New Year’s Eve party at Susie Rivero’s house circa 1989… she was a bit tipsy and was pointing at the Christmas tree (with her thumb and over her shoulder) that was up in the house. Actually the funniest part of this quote was the thumb over her shoulder… and the expression on her face.
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I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button the other day and a couple of things made me wonder…
If he was born old, but the size of a baby, then shouldn’t he have died young (as he did) but the size of an old man?
And as far as his name goes, he was named Benjamin by his “adoptive” mother and he probably took her last name. He didn’t know, nor for that matter anyone else, who his father was until he was well along in (his) years. Do you think he really took his name? I don’t think so. So why is the movie named after Benjamin BUTTON, a man who doesn’t technically exist?
When he got together with the call girl he went on and on and on. But his body was that of an old man. Shouldn’t he have been on Viagra or something if he was aging backwards?

You know we celebrate Independence Day as if it’s a celebration of freedom. Last I checked the two don’t coincide. For instance, Cuba has been independent of Spain for over 100 years and they still celebrate that yearly, even though there hasn’t been much (or any) freedom for the last 50 years, while Puerto Rico being an American property is not independent, and yet Puerto Ricans have all the freedom that U.S. citizens have. Go figure.

And speaking of Puerto Rico, they are not technically a country, yet they are represented as such in the Olympics. I may be wrong, but wouldn’t that be the same as Greenland sending athletes to the Olympics even though they are ruled by Denmark? Yet for some reason they don’t. I wonder why?

And how about this for some useless information: The population of Greenland, a country covering over 800,000 square miles is less than 60,000. The population of Kendall here in Miami exceeds that alone (app. 75,000) in an area of just over 16 square miles. I bet there aren’t many traffic jams during rush hour in Greenland!!

Why do they keep taking shows from television that were geared for young kids and making them into movies geared for older kids and adults? When I was my kids’ age I watched Transformers and G.I. Joe on TV. Now the movie versions are definitely not for kids of that age with the amount of sexual references being thrown around clearly not appropriate for the under 10 crowd (not to mention the EXTREME violence). Shooting for PG-13… I guess money talks in the end, huh?

And why the heck is it that such silly information floods my head that eventually brings me to write it down. Does anybody else ever think of any of this stuff? Or am I just plain old loony and fried? This is a hypothetical question, not to be answered. I already know the answer to that last question in case you were wondering.

Some things I just don’t get. One such thing relates to what happened today.

Today was my friends’ son’s 9th birthday. As they seem to do every year they have a pool party. We always have a good time at his party and look forward to attending it every year (and any other gathering these friends have because they are awesome hosts, and they always know how to show a good time). There is only one drawback to their party… no, my mistake, almost ALL pool parties. It seems that if there is a pool party, the men go in the pool and the women don’t.

Now, it’s not like I have this thing that the women MUST go in the water. It’s not like this 39 year old is looking forward to bathing suit clad women to join him and the other guys in the water (though that may be nice). What bugs me is that when the women don’t go in, the men become the sole caretakers for wading children. We become small islands in a see of water where a swimmer stops for respite (and sometimes two or three swimmers). We become catapults, and rocket launchers, sending kids flying through the air to splash in another part of the pool (unless the pool is too full, like today, in which case we are spared of this duty). We also become lifeguards making sure that none of the kids are underwater any longer than they need to be, being constantly aware of every splash, which becomes difficult with the amount of times some of these kids enter and exit the water. And all the while the ladies sit outside doing whatever they do (usually gossiping, though they’ll deny this. They are only sharing information… vital information about “friends” in precarious situations) while the men run (or swim) themselves ragged. That was the case today. As it was last week at our July 4th gathering. As it has been at almost every kids pool party we attend.
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You know it’s always really cool for a dad when his son is into the same things that he’s into. When TWO sons share their passion for something with dad, it’s just God sent. Or maybe it’s genetic, but that will have to be proven. You see my two boys are HUGE Star Wars fans. It’s enough to make me want to cry tears of joy. And it’s not like I’ve driven it down their throats either. I’ve watched Star Wars with them, but I never forced them to do it with me. They have a Star Wars Wii game. I didn’t give it to them. It was still the game they played the most. I went to see Star Wars Clone Wars with them. When the series on Cartoon Network began shortly thereafter they put it to record on the DVR. I haven’t seen many of the episodes. They haven’t missed one. In fact, they’ve seen most of them multiple times. And over the last two weeks something interesting has happened in my house. Every other day my sons pull out a different Star Wars movie to watch during the day between my sons’ swimming classes (one has it in the morning, the other in the afternoon). They started with Return of the Jedi, and have been working backwards little by little towards Phantom Menace.

Now the main culprit here is actually my son, Marcos. Lucas really likes Star Wars, but Marcos LOVES Star Wars. In fact, my daughter is convinced that he’s obsessed by Star Wars. He just might be. Everything that seems interesting to him in life he can tie to a moment in “Star Wars time”. He’ll say something like “that’s like when Boba Fett was thrown into that things mouth in the sand, right?” Usually I have no idea where these links came from, but I still find it intriguing. And though this annoys the heck out of my daughter, I tend to think that there could be worse things he could be obsessed with… like Barney or something like that.
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You know, blogging isn’t as easy as it seems. Oh no siree, Bob. And if you aren’t Bob, then whoever you are, you must believe this to be true. Blogging can be very very difficult. Especially when there is no computer in front of you. I have come to realize that if the computer is not present, then the blog will not happen, no matter how badly you want to write it. And this is exactly what happened to me yesterday night. I went out for a jog, 8 miles to be exact (no this is not an Eminem reference. I never saw that movie). When running for that long a distance, one has a long time to do one of two things. A) Focus on the run, or B) Think about something… ANYTHING else. For those of you who don’t run, I will let you know, that thinking about your run while you are running is not very smart. You will be defeated before you begin. It’s like when someone tells you you have to hold your breath under water for a specific amount of time. If you actually THINK about holding your breath you will actually feel the pressure building in your lungs, and your body starts begging for air almost immediately! I am only assuming this because it happens to me, so I figure it MUST happen to everyone else, right? SO, the obvious thing to do is to think of something else while running (or holding your breath under water). And so I do.

But then an interesting thing happens. I start coming up with all kind of thoughts. Deep thoughts, wild thoughts, thought-provoking thoughts, stupid thoughts, funny thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, and more thoughts!! And then the thought that comes up is, “I need to write this stuff down!” But I can’t. I am running and there is no computer in front of me! And when I run for 8 miles in 81 degree weather, with 95% humidity, I wind up taking approximately 80 minutes from start to finish. So what happens is that anything that I thought of in the first 20 minutes of my run, is gone. Then I can only pray that something will trigger those thoughts again so that eventually I can write them down. For the most part, though, those thoughts are gone forever the second the next thought crosses my mind. So at least I can get down my last thoughts while running right? Yeah, but then I get home DRENCHED (80+ degrees, 90+% humidity will do that to you) and I MUST shower before I can do anything else, AND I must make sure to rehydrate before I pass out. Well, by the time I’m done with that the LAST thoughts of my run are gone too! Then all I can muster is a comment on my FB publisher section that simply reads: “Wency is dead after an 8 mile run”. Wow. That must make people who read that think. A lot. I love challenging my readers you know.
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Today we woke up late… really late. That meant that we were going to pass on going to 11:00 am mass, and instead plan on going to 6:00 pm mass. Then right around 4:00 pm we decided to all go in the pool and do an impromptu BBQ. I made sure to tell the kids that it was only for a short dip to enjoy the beautiful weather (which we must take advantage since it has seemed so fleeting for the last couple of months) before we needed to come out and get ready for mass. But alas, the day was too nice and we stayed in the pool eating our spicy Italian sausage sandwiches until almost 6:00 pm. Well, you know what that means of course. That’s right we had to go to mass at 7:30 pm. In Spanish. Well, I’m sorry but as far as I’m concerned it is still the Lord’s day and I wasn’t going to skip on him. AND He made sure to remind me not to skip out on him by bringing the thunder at around 10 minutes to 6. What a swell guy!!

So, anyway, we made our way to 7:30 mass. My kids weren’t happy. They are not very fluent in Spanish and have a tough time following the mass. To boot, the priest saying the mass has a habit of doing the equivalent of three homilies during each mass. Today was no different. Whereas most homilies last about 15 minutes, this guy went on for over 35 minutes. My two older boys fell asleep. The little one just got tired of sitting in his stroller while this guy went on and on and on and on and on… and started screaming at the top of his lungs. My daughter was just annoyed because this meant she wasn’t going to be able to see some special hour-long Hannah Montana that she had been planning on viewing tonight (I thought she was over this whole Hannah Montana thing too). To be honest, I wasn’t thrilled myself. The idea of sitting through this guy’s homily didn’t thrill me. You sort of get accustomed to a particular length of homilies after a while, and this guy was stretching my boundaries just a tad. AND dealing with the three boys in particular simultaneously made it that much harder to concentrate on this guy. But I tried. And although most of what he said flew right by me (my Espanitch snot so good too bad either) one thing he said did latch on to my ears which are more receptive now of sound now that I cut my hair.

Father decided to round up the second of the three homilies he did with a quote from St. Augustine. In order to do it justice, I am choosing to google it so that I can give you the accurate quote… OK, after half an hour of searching I didn’t find it, so I will paraphrase and pray that I get it right:
You know I’m not going to do it justice so I’ll just tell you what it sounded like to me and if anybody knows the quote of which I speak, please send it to me. He said something along the lines that we must understand that since we are all sinners we must be aware that any sin that someone else commits, we ourselves are capable of committing.
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