Okay today was the ultimate of all days ever! I know as soon as I pen this story I will have to live with the live with the consequences of what I write. No problem!
Here's the deal.. Once upon a time we lived in Oceanside, California because Camp Pendleton was our home away from home so to speak. Anyone who has ever been stationed at Camp Pendleton, you can say Carne Asada burrito and instantly it brings memories of Alberto's then it switched to Umberto's at some point. Just to give me some credibility points here Google it, type in Carne Asada Burrito, Oceanside. Anyway, we have driven 200 miles out of our way while vacationing in California just so we could get our Carne Asada fix.
Our town sucks when it comes to Carne Asada Burritos. We have searched for fourteen years to bring that same ultimate pleasure back to our lives. We've tried every 'Authentic Mexican' food joint in town and to no avail we have always come up short. Or shall I say everyone else here in town has come up short. Oh my goodness, today my wonderful husband surprised me with the ultimate pleasure of all pleasures. I know what you are thinking but it involves food people. Anyway, he said he stopped off at this place Los Beto's and said that it came highly recommended and he ordered a couple of Carne Asada Burritos. Of course I was expecting something close to a Bert's sullied with beans and rice and whatever else these freaks think makes a great Carne Asada confection. To my shock and pleasure it was similar in size, same homemade tortillas, great carne asada meat, no beans, no rice, just tomatoes, cilantro, onions, and tons of carne asada meat.
Okay, I know it sounds ridiculous but we have searched and sampled for 14 years to recapture the ultimate taste of all tastes. I wanted to take out an advertisement that said, "Calling all Camp Pendleton Marines, carne asada burritos just like home do exist in Boise!" Shout it from the rooftops. Amazing, amazing and more amazing. It was by far the best thing ever. I told my husband that someone had remarked on the internet that it was better than sex and he of course agreed that the burritos were great but not quite that great. I didn't say it of course someone else did but man the burritos are fabulous and it is as close to the Oceanside sun and beach I've been to in 5 years. Fabulous, more fabulous and just phenomenal. It has only taken 14 years for us to find them but it was worth every year of agony to finally find the ultimate California pleasure.
The way it just melts in your mouth is indescribable. I have to call it a confection. It isn't a confection in the traditional sense but it is a rare treat. I haven't had one in 5 years and it was worth every bite. Try this on for size. My husband loved them so much that that is what he wanted for dinner tonight. We are both like kids in a candy store.
Carne Asada Burrito from Los Beto's is a finer thing in life.
May 30, 2007
May 22, 2007
The Pink Flower Trees Are Green
What happened to spring? It is so cold and gloomy. Yesterday I sat outside and watched the rain come down and nearly froze to death also. When I came back in, I pulled up the ole widget and realized it was only 49 degrees outside. That did not include any consideration for the vicious wind that was also blowing. Trust me it was chilly.
It was kind of strange because I've noticed that I love the sun. The sun refreshes me. As much as I try to hide my roots, somehow in my brain I still think that it should only be cloudy in the morning, break by ten and assume a reasonable amount of sunshine by early afternoon. Perhaps I should not complain about the weather so much because it is supposed to be hot again by the weekend. Why do we all do that? We complain when it is too hot, we complain when it is too cold etc. But who determines perfect weather. I believe the perfect weather consensus is somewhere in the mid-70's. I am not sure about that but I do believe that most people would agree that mid-70's is perfect weather as long as the sun is shining and the wind does not blow you over.
What about the landscape intrigues me? Well, I love to take photos of the environment, good and bad. Okay, I do need to stop myself for a minute and explain that I also take pictures of the odd, bums, car accidents (which since Nita's crash I may reconsider that one), and anything else that seems interesting. The great part of 'going digital' is that you don't have to print all of those pictures if you don't want to. I love it because shots that don't turn out as beautiful as you hope you can just delete them and not waste time or money on garbage.
Obviously today I am all over the world and back with my train of thought but it feels nice to not be so restricted to the mundane for this weeks writing assignment. Outdoors can be so inspiring in a way. I miss that I didn't get pictures of tulips this year or the pretty pink flower trees I walked by everyday and vowed to bring my camera so I could catch them before they turned green. I missed my chance, the trees are filled with fresh green leaves now. Perhaps it is a reminder of how we should treat other people. We don't know how long they will be with us. We can't put it off. Maybe the thing you are holding onto, to express to another person only lasts a season. It that is the case then don't let that season change color on you before you do what's in your heart. Tell others how you feel even if it is somewhat painful to do so.
It was kind of strange because I've noticed that I love the sun. The sun refreshes me. As much as I try to hide my roots, somehow in my brain I still think that it should only be cloudy in the morning, break by ten and assume a reasonable amount of sunshine by early afternoon. Perhaps I should not complain about the weather so much because it is supposed to be hot again by the weekend. Why do we all do that? We complain when it is too hot, we complain when it is too cold etc. But who determines perfect weather. I believe the perfect weather consensus is somewhere in the mid-70's. I am not sure about that but I do believe that most people would agree that mid-70's is perfect weather as long as the sun is shining and the wind does not blow you over.
What about the landscape intrigues me? Well, I love to take photos of the environment, good and bad. Okay, I do need to stop myself for a minute and explain that I also take pictures of the odd, bums, car accidents (which since Nita's crash I may reconsider that one), and anything else that seems interesting. The great part of 'going digital' is that you don't have to print all of those pictures if you don't want to. I love it because shots that don't turn out as beautiful as you hope you can just delete them and not waste time or money on garbage.
Obviously today I am all over the world and back with my train of thought but it feels nice to not be so restricted to the mundane for this weeks writing assignment. Outdoors can be so inspiring in a way. I miss that I didn't get pictures of tulips this year or the pretty pink flower trees I walked by everyday and vowed to bring my camera so I could catch them before they turned green. I missed my chance, the trees are filled with fresh green leaves now. Perhaps it is a reminder of how we should treat other people. We don't know how long they will be with us. We can't put it off. Maybe the thing you are holding onto, to express to another person only lasts a season. It that is the case then don't let that season change color on you before you do what's in your heart. Tell others how you feel even if it is somewhat painful to do so.
May 20, 2007
Fond Memory and Healing
Again and again with nonstop thought about Nita. Today we went to Café Ole and all I could think about was Nita. Al and I sat there talking pleasantly to one another and I simply remembered. We were there looking at one another and eating and chatting about what…I really don’t quite remember.
When we walked up to the restaurant doors I remarked to Al that I only think about Nita about 50 times a day. I understand the process of grief but it still doesn’t quite help me understand her death. My faith and my humanness collide endlessly as I try repeatedly to understand that life is going to be okay without her.
That day we picked Al up from the airport sweet Nita was there. My husband is such a wonderful big brother. To Café Ole we went, a family tradition that was birthed by some tradition we started when my mother comes to visit. Al wanted to show his little sisters how ‘we roll.’ I recall the two of them, Nita and Lou Lou sitting across that big booth table with us. They loved the food. Nita said she would have to get her boyfriend to bring her there because the food was so much better than the place where he and his family always went when they are in town.
What did we hope to accomplish by going there again today? I am not sure, for me I can say that it was a way to remember her again perhaps. She was so beautiful and happy, and filled with the same old fiery fun that made her so special. I regret that she was so much younger than the rest and I had not learned to appreciate her so much because she was just the baby. One of the young ones that still made mistakes and bad choices, and all the other things that young people do.
Listen to me, I sound like some old lady but it was difficult to appreciate her because she was so young and distant in some ways. Nita idolized her big brother and loved him because she was proud of the man he’d become. How did she feel about me? I am not really sure but I can say with a clean conscience that I was proud of her and one of the last conversations we had was about how proud I was of her and to keep up the good work and finish with her schooling goals.
Sweet, sweet, girl who touched so many lives. One thing that I will say is that she was sort of like me in one way. She touched people on an individual level. She took on her brothers and sisters one by one and made each of them feel special.
So, what did I accomplish today? I was able to stare death in the face again and tell it that it cannot steal me away down the road of grief and despair forever. I told death today that people live on, and we can walk down some of the same old pathways and remember those we’ve lost without being overcome by the ravages of what death brings. I know that it is not a one-day process and I won’t wake up in the morning not remembering. Today only about ten times did I debate in my head about her being murdered. It sounds so obscure on the page, almost as obscure as it sounds when it is voiced to another.
We will all survive this time and over and over again I keep thinking that I want to write something special about her. What do I write? What will best help my little nephew to remember or acquaint him with who his mother was to each of us? She touched so many people individually that I don’t think I could ever collect all of the stories.
Earlier today, I sat on my porch and wondered what I would write about today. What can one say? I believe in a God. I believe that bad things happen to good people. I told Al today that it was remarkable that Nita had lost so many babies before my nephew, at least three previous miscarriages that I know of. Maybe that was her one HUGE purpose in life was to give life to her son.
When we walked up to the restaurant doors I remarked to Al that I only think about Nita about 50 times a day. I understand the process of grief but it still doesn’t quite help me understand her death. My faith and my humanness collide endlessly as I try repeatedly to understand that life is going to be okay without her.
That day we picked Al up from the airport sweet Nita was there. My husband is such a wonderful big brother. To Café Ole we went, a family tradition that was birthed by some tradition we started when my mother comes to visit. Al wanted to show his little sisters how ‘we roll.’ I recall the two of them, Nita and Lou Lou sitting across that big booth table with us. They loved the food. Nita said she would have to get her boyfriend to bring her there because the food was so much better than the place where he and his family always went when they are in town.
What did we hope to accomplish by going there again today? I am not sure, for me I can say that it was a way to remember her again perhaps. She was so beautiful and happy, and filled with the same old fiery fun that made her so special. I regret that she was so much younger than the rest and I had not learned to appreciate her so much because she was just the baby. One of the young ones that still made mistakes and bad choices, and all the other things that young people do.
Listen to me, I sound like some old lady but it was difficult to appreciate her because she was so young and distant in some ways. Nita idolized her big brother and loved him because she was proud of the man he’d become. How did she feel about me? I am not really sure but I can say with a clean conscience that I was proud of her and one of the last conversations we had was about how proud I was of her and to keep up the good work and finish with her schooling goals.
Sweet, sweet, girl who touched so many lives. One thing that I will say is that she was sort of like me in one way. She touched people on an individual level. She took on her brothers and sisters one by one and made each of them feel special.
So, what did I accomplish today? I was able to stare death in the face again and tell it that it cannot steal me away down the road of grief and despair forever. I told death today that people live on, and we can walk down some of the same old pathways and remember those we’ve lost without being overcome by the ravages of what death brings. I know that it is not a one-day process and I won’t wake up in the morning not remembering. Today only about ten times did I debate in my head about her being murdered. It sounds so obscure on the page, almost as obscure as it sounds when it is voiced to another.
We will all survive this time and over and over again I keep thinking that I want to write something special about her. What do I write? What will best help my little nephew to remember or acquaint him with who his mother was to each of us? She touched so many people individually that I don’t think I could ever collect all of the stories.
Earlier today, I sat on my porch and wondered what I would write about today. What can one say? I believe in a God. I believe that bad things happen to good people. I told Al today that it was remarkable that Nita had lost so many babies before my nephew, at least three previous miscarriages that I know of. Maybe that was her one HUGE purpose in life was to give life to her son.
May 18, 2007
My Summer Online Journal
Hey there great folks. Yeah right, nobody has been reading because I have been away. Well, I have a class this summer, ENGL 401 and we are required to do a journal five days a week. I am on day three and I figured instead of just writing in my little private journal that I would go ahead and keep my BLOG updated for at least the summer and then I could just post on here a couple of times a week. Time management you know.
It has been a very tragic last couple of weeks. Nita passing away is still a very raw emotional spot for me. For those of you who don't know what happened, my baby sister (my husband's sister actually) passed away suddenly. She was in a car accident (crash, it was no accident) and was killed. I have been going through various emotions. The hardest part for me is to realize that yes she was murdered by someone. To come to terms with the fact that someone intended to stop the vehicle any way they could which is murder. I cannot begin to grasp how someone could not think that hitting someone else in a vehicle with your vehicle could result in death or serious injury. Mike Martin killed two people as a result of this careless act.
To make matters worse, what I did not realize until it was mentioned to me that all of people involved had children and now there are two generations that are effective by one persons actions. Collectively we are talking about five children I think who for one reason or another will not have a parent in their life because of one persons actions.
I've been thinking about how I could properly memorialize her and what I could do. I am thinking of writing a little chap book or something where I interview some people and write a section about Nita based on each person's views. I need to do this while memories are still fresh but not while wounds are too deep. I want to do something for my little nephew that will never see the beauty others saw in his mama. It pains me greatly to know that that poor precious child will not be able to enjoy having his mother in his life.
I want him to be fifteen or sixteen and be able to say this was my mom, this is what she enjoyed, this is what she was like, all because we (his family) and me are willing to take the time to chronicle a legacy for him. That my friends is my next writing project.
It has been a very tragic last couple of weeks. Nita passing away is still a very raw emotional spot for me. For those of you who don't know what happened, my baby sister (my husband's sister actually) passed away suddenly. She was in a car accident (crash, it was no accident) and was killed. I have been going through various emotions. The hardest part for me is to realize that yes she was murdered by someone. To come to terms with the fact that someone intended to stop the vehicle any way they could which is murder. I cannot begin to grasp how someone could not think that hitting someone else in a vehicle with your vehicle could result in death or serious injury. Mike Martin killed two people as a result of this careless act.
To make matters worse, what I did not realize until it was mentioned to me that all of people involved had children and now there are two generations that are effective by one persons actions. Collectively we are talking about five children I think who for one reason or another will not have a parent in their life because of one persons actions.
I've been thinking about how I could properly memorialize her and what I could do. I am thinking of writing a little chap book or something where I interview some people and write a section about Nita based on each person's views. I need to do this while memories are still fresh but not while wounds are too deep. I want to do something for my little nephew that will never see the beauty others saw in his mama. It pains me greatly to know that that poor precious child will not be able to enjoy having his mother in his life.
I want him to be fifteen or sixteen and be able to say this was my mom, this is what she enjoyed, this is what she was like, all because we (his family) and me are willing to take the time to chronicle a legacy for him. That my friends is my next writing project.
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