Month: March 2017

Battle of the Bulge

I’ve gotten soft about the belly. I work out, I try to eat right, I most certainly attempt to lay off the wine but this hasn’t made much a difference to my waist line. I realize this most when I make the effort to fit into my old fitted shirts and the buttons struggle to maintain their position in the outlined slots. Therefore, like my father before me, I will transfer some of my older clothes post haste to my son’s closet. 
My only hope is that my fashions will still be in fashion when he’s ready to look dapper in them.

Saying No and other Tragedies

It is a great displeasure saying “no” to my children. Especially when the matter concerns money. 
Whenever I do it (ie this am over Book Fair funds) and their face crumbles before my eyes I sense a betrayal of my youngest self who promised to NOT let my children go without wanting. I know I’m in the right. I know I have lessons to teach. I know the relativity of their pain. I know what they need or don’t need. I know I love them. None of that assuages the displeasure of issuing a warranted “no”. 
It has to get to get done though I hope giving a hearty hug on our way to school will ease our pain.

Alien Watcher

I used to believe in making wishes but for some time now I haven’t. When my youngest pulled out a dandelion off the ground yesterday and sent its most fragile wispy leaves into the air I had no real ask for them. It is a challenge being a creature of Science and Reason. Lonely in an abstract way. It’s perhaps the motivation driving me to watch the people who constantly fascinate me. 
Perhaps I’m Alien after all.

Cholo

Most each and every morning and even sometimes at midday my mama would perform an audit. Her threshold was clear…thou shall not wear clothing or style one’s hair in such a manner as to connote a resemblance to a “Cholo” for me or a “Chola” for my sisters. This meant that pants were to actually fit at the waist and underwears were meant to be kept under and never seem. Hair was to be cut by her and it mirrored my papa’s distinguished (old fashioned) look. No wild designs on clothes, no flashy brands. 
It is a testament then that in spite of all this I still had an unauthorized girlfriend in High School though mama Torres sure had plenty to say about that!

Calamity on a Sunday Morning

With full knowledge that we are the de facto ICE number to some of our more senior family member, it is always disconcerting to get an unexpected call. You always worry that something has happened. More often than not something actually has…and in the case of this morning a calamity indeed has. So I rush up the foothill to take care of the television set that they’ve managed to confuse its setting. Breakfast this sunny Sunday morning comes with a shot of adrenaline as it were

Hugging it Out

At drop off today the kids as usual moseyed off to class without even giving a good bye or look back. That’s typical. As I started to plug in my phone’s headset so I could listen to the latest biography a scene reached my eye. A husky big man was embracing a boy with all his might. They swayed as they hugged and even from my far off spot I could tell this exchange meant a whole lot to the two. Eventually they had to peel away from one another and the boy (who could not have been older than 10) heading into campus. 
The big guy in his gray pants and crimson sweater waited and watched his boy get lost in the throng of kids. Funny that he didn’t look like the “hugging” type when I had a change to give him my full estimate. 
My assessment matters not…he got his love for the day and I ached a little for not getting mine.

Buyers Remorse

It would take my father a good long while to bring it up. I could see the strain and just before he did it his shoulders would tense, the vein at his forehead engorged and he pumped his fists to gather up muster. Sometimes he was sweet and gentle. Sometimes demanding and callous. Most of the time he was wily in his pleads and he was certainly not always successful. 
That’s what it took sometimes for my mom to open up the purse strings if the purchase was over $100. I suppose that’s why I always think twice and compare to Casa Torres’ CFO before splurging on the latest tech.

Hooters

Because we believe in being a conduit of valuable and relevant information to our children…Momma Torres and I just spent the balance of our car ride back from West Covina explaining the theme of the Hooters restaurant off the side of the road. 
For the time being both Torres have opted to not frequent the establishment much to the dismay of this reporter.

Look About Town

We began our walk back home after dining at local spot. Heading east this evening, the cold that has gripped the valley broke earlier today and made it nice enough to enjoy Monrovia’s air without a sweater. 
Along the way we passed a set of stores and within them a colourful assortment of folk. 
There was the man who own the Locksmith store who seemed like he had lost his keys. A white haired woman focusing on an iPad while a young boy near her concentrated on his fingers at the violin. They resided together inside the Music academy. The intent young lady filing at a woman’s nails at the furthermost corner of her shop. I spotted no lawyer lawyering at the law office but I’ve heard he does exist. The smell of asada tacos from the Mexican joint competed with the aroma of fish tacos from the spot that sells those big shrimps. Both places had their staff quite busy. 
Soon we were leaving the downtown and would be greeted by a row of Crafstman houses and others so I decided to look back one more time at the Boulevard. My last memory was the sight of Venus in the sky and the crescent moon that seemed to be smiling down on our All-American town.