Mia: Shaken Not Stirred


The true life stories of a NYC female.

Monday, July 31, 2006

El Piraguero


Recently on a disgustingly hot day Nora’s aunt and her friend came over to the house for a visit piraguas in hand. Nora’s aunt Jo had never had a piragua before. As soon as they got into The Bronx her friend Grace a local girl gone to live in the ‘burbs made sure she treated Jo to one. The look on Jo’s face was one of pure joy. She was one with her piragua on this broiling saturday afternoon. Jo looked kind of sad when she dribbled the last of the coconut infused ice shavings onto her tongue.

A piragua for those who do not know is what we Latinos call a snow cone. For Boriquas piraguas are a part of our culture. Embedded deep within our hearts and taste buds. Just the sight of a Piraguero is enough to make a Boriqua smile. The viejos are taken back to their childhood and the young ones anticipate the cold treat. In Puerto Rico piragueros work all year long thanks to the tropical weather. Here in Los Estados Unidos the piraguero starts venturing out in the spring and hibernate for the winter.



The Piraguero (snow cone vendor) pushes a block of ice around on a wooden cart. Sometimes the ice is enclosed ,other times it has an umbrella over it but more often than not the block of ice sits with a garbage bag under it and a white towel draped over it .





Piragueros have strong arms and great upper body strength thanks to the work out they get from shaving the ice. El Piraguero's body leans in as his arms work up and down the block of ice with a metal shaver. He taps the shavings into a cone shaped paper cup then puts a metal cone shaped cup over it to give it its shape. Now a days most piragueros have gone high tech preferring plastic beverage cups over the paper cones. As a kid we'd suck and chew on the paper cones to extract every little bit of goodness once our piraguas were finished.



After your piragua has been shaped you pick out the syrup that will give flavor to the piragua. The syrups are stored on the sides of the piragua cart in glass bottles with spouts on them. Sometimes the spouts are made of colorful plastic and other times they are made of metal. The Piraguero is very liberal with the pouring of the syrup so that it comes up to the edge of your cup, spilling a little on your hand. Sticky fingers and a freshly made piragua are a childhood rite of passage. The piraguero often supplies the customer with a little plastic straw to sip the melted portion of the piragua. In my hood those straws are for wussies. We sip our piragua juice straight out of the cup.



There’s countless tropical flavors like coco, pineapple, tamarindo, guanabana, and the gringo standards of grape, cherry, cotton candy, and a blue concoction that I always liked. I forgot now what it is. Alone the syrups are way too sweet and thick but on a snow cone. Ay Dios Santo! They are a slice of heaven on a hot day.



I leave you with a taste of my beloved Borinquen and a song called "El Piraguero" an ode to those hardworking Gods of Boriqua childhood.

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Posted by @ 4:08 PM
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Long Ass Tag


I've been tagged twice for this long ass tag. The first time by Champ and the second time by Judy… so reply I shall….


BEST:
1. Male friend: Patrick
2. Female friend: Jackie
3. Vacation: Egypt

WORST:
1. Time of day: 7 am: I am not coherent until 7:15 at least
2. Day of the week: Monday
3. Color crayon: Brown

LAST:
1. Person you talked to that goes/went to your school: Angela
2. Talked to on the phone: Reina
3. Text: Patrick
4. Person who Instant Messaged:. Infamous Cuba

TODAY:
1. What are you doing now: Drinking water, plotting on how to take over the world.
2. Wearing: Care bear pj bottoms, gray t-shirt

TOMORROW:
1. Is: Tuesday
2. Got any plans: Yes, I’m going to go see Reina she gets home from PR tomorrow.
3. Goal: 100 crunches
4. Dislikes about tomorrow: Heat wave

FAVORITE:
1. Number: 7
2. Song: Missing by Evanescence
3. Color: Red and White

CURRENTLY:
1. Missing Someone: Yeah Reina, I can hardly wait til she gets home tomorrow!
2. Mood: Chillin’
3. Wanting: Tea, my throat hurts.

TRUE/FALSE:
I am a cuddler: Ya damn skippy I am

I am a morning person: after 7:15 I am

I am a perfectionist: yup

I am an only child: No such luck. I am the oldest of 3.

I am currently in my pajamas: Yup yup

I am currently pregnant: WTF?! Are you insane do you want my parents to kill me?!

I am currently suffering from a broken heart: nope

I am left handed: Nope

I am addicted to Blogging: The fact that I am posting this on a blog and was tagged by 2 bloggers for this post speaks volumes.

I am online 24/7: Nope a girl needs her beauty sleep you know.

I am very shy around the opposite gender: Nope

I can be paranoid at times: Why are you asking? What have you heard?

I currently have a crush on someone: Nope

I currently regret something that I have done: Nope

I enjoy country music: Only after a couple of drinks. Then I can sing everything from Reba Macintyre to Garth Brooks.

I enjoy smoothies: Oh yes

I enjoy talking on the phone: Depends on the person other wise I avoid it.

I have a hard time paying attention at school/work: Huh? Could you repeat the question?

I have a hidden talent: Yes I do I can flex my butt cheeks to music, Cuban Pete is a favorite request.

I have a lot to learn: Yup and life is a great teacher.

I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal: Well dumping that body in the landfill wasn’t one of my highlights however if people stay shut all well be fine.

ANGER
1. Are you currently mad at someone? No

2. Which of your friends has the worst temper? Jackie

3. Have you ever thrown something at anyone? No

4. Ever had something thrown at you? Only baseless accusations stacked on a shelf of insecurity.

5. When you’re mad do you prefer to stare angrily or yell and scream? Na man I laugh and walk away.

EXCITEMENT
1. Has anyone ever thrown you a surprise party for you? Yup

2. Are you easily excited? Yeah it doesn’t take much to get me going.

3. What are you most excited about? Currently the fact I hooked up my ex with my friend.

4. If you won a million dollars what would be your first thought? Create the non-profit organization for kids I’ve been dreaming about.

5. If you could have anything right now what would it be? Ice Cream

SELF-DISCOVERY
1. Name: Mia

2. Where were you born? New York, NY

3. What’s your main goal in life? To make an impact on society for the better.

4. How do you want to die? In my sleep at the ripe old age of 125.

OPINIONS
1. Sex before marriage? I say go for it but don’t forget the condoms

2. Gay Marriage? Sure why the hell not. Marriage is a big commitment gay or str8. If someone wants to commit I say support them.

3. Lower the Drinking age? Na

4. Recycling? Of course!

DREAMS
1. What was your latest dream?
Walking on the beach collecting sea shells.

2. Have any of your dreams come true?
Yes.

3. What was the weirdest dream you’ve ever had?

Wizard of Oz dream.


1. Straight, Gay, Bi? Str8

2. Do you have a bf/gf? Nope

3. Do you have a crush? Nope

How many beds did you lay in yesterday? 1

What color shirt are you wearing? gray

Name one thing that you do everyday? Read

What color are your walls? Antique white

How much cash do you have on you right now? I’m in my pj’s but right next to my keyboard there’s $10.00

I can’t wait till…? This tag is over

When was the last time you saw your dad? 7/31/06 he got up to get some water.

What did you have for dinner last night? Pollo guisado, rice with gandules, salad Iced Tea

What’s the last piece of clothing you borrowed from someone? I spent the night at Jackie’s I borrowed her jacket…it was cold !

What website(s) do you visit the most during the day?
e-mail

Does anything hurt on your body right now? Nope

HAVE YOU EVER:
1. Have you ever failed a class? Yes

2. Have you ever sung in front of a crowd? Yes

3. Have you ever not taken a shower for 3 days? No

4. Have you ever slept with a night light? Yes

5. Have you ever danced in the rain? Yes

6. Have you ever lied? Yeah and I suck at it which is why I don’t do it.

7. Have you ever had contacts? Yes

8. Have you ever tripped over something stupid? Yea, my own flip flops

PICK ONE:
1. Samosa, Pakora, Kebab: Kebab

2. Bollywood, Lollywood, Hollywood: Hollywood

3. Love marriage, Arranged marriage: Love

4. Honeymoon, no moon: No moon

5. How many kids would u like 1,2, 3+: 1 plus adopt a whole bunch

6. Kulfi, Ice cream: Ice cream

7. Shah ruk khan, Orlando Bloom: pass

8. Meenar-e-Pakistan, Eiffel Tower:eiffel

9. Lahore, Khi, Islambad: Lahore

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Posted by @ 2:41 AM
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Sunday, July 30, 2006

Van Gogh King of The Bronx





The one thing I hate about summer is my cat Van Gogh’s insistence on playing acrobatics on the air conditioner outside of our 7th floor window. The damned cat is determined to give me a heart attack by the time I’m 25 if he lasts that long.
He’s been doing this ever since he was a kitten. He even fell off the air conditioner and landed on a patch of grass in the play ground below us. One of our downstairs neighbors alerted us to the fact that Van Gogh had pulled a flying Wallenda past her window. My mom ran downstairs expecting to find a twisted out cat instead she found Van Gogh trying to climb back up the way he had fallen. Determined little fella that he is. He knew he lived way up there near the clouds and was trying to get back home. Either that or the fall just messed with his mind.

Luckily for him he wasn’t hurt .But did it stop him from trying it again? Oh hell no …every year we go through this…he makes sure no one is around climbs through the window guard onto the window sill and jumps up onto the next window and perches on top of the air conditioning unit.

Whenever we close the window to switch on the AC we have to make sure he doesn’t get locked out. Sometimes late at night I catch him sleeping out there. I imagine in his mind he pictures himself the King of The Bronx, looking down on people and cars as they make their way down the street. I’ve caught him a few times looking up at the sky at the passing planes. I just hope the he doesn’t get it into his head to try to catch one of them. I guess he believes in the superstition of cats having nine lives and figures he’s got 8 more coming to him.

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Posted by @ 3:07 PM
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Thursday, July 27, 2006

The horror of it all




Mom’s friend asked that the link for some photos be sent to her myspace account.We'd never seen the friend’s page before so we had no idea what was on it. Mom gave me the url and that’s when it happened. I went blind. I stared at the page in horror and let out a huge “OH SHIT!” as soon as the lady’s page loaded up I was greeted by a photo of 43 year old woman in practically no clothing. Think a cross between a dominatrix and Liza Minelli in Cabaret straddling a chair.

Mia: Oh my flipping gawd, my eyessss, my eyesssss!!! Lordy lord have mercy!!

I felt my retnas burning and detaching themselves from my eyes. I’d been blinded.

Mom: Mia what happened?

Mia: The horror oh woe is me the horror of it all! Woman for the love of all that is sacred and holy shield your eyes !

My mom leaned over and saw her friend’s photo and started laughing.

Mom: Hooooooo shit!

Mia: To say the least.

Mom: No wonder she didn’t want you seeing this.

Mia: Yeah well I wish I hadn’t.

Mom: So do I. I'm afraid you'll be scarred for life. Go Liz!! Who knew she had it in her? (laughing) Now we know how she got all them kids. (laughing harder)


It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t been my mom’s friend. I mean there’s a certain image you have of your elders. Liz as a dominatrix Liza Minelli clone was not an image I ever expected. Yet somehow it has been seared into my brain forever. For the love of leather and whips this is a MOM! It took a minute or so before I was able to see again but the damage has been done I don’t think I can ever look at this woman’s face again without thinking "Cabaret". This one's for you Liz...







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Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Stuff I love about living in New York


The Don was waxing nostalgic over his time spent living in el USA. As I checked out his list of things he enjoyed while living out here I was inspired to compile my own list of stuff I love about living in the states well in my case New York...

Going to Gray’s Papaya on 71st and Broadway at 3 am for the best hot dogs on the planet washed down with a papaya drink.

Cars at the traffic light blasting their music on hot summer nights and dancing with friends while waiting for the light to change.




Chilling in Central Park between classes and getting a contact high from the buddah heads on the next bench smoking a blunt (marijuana in a cigar).

Walking around the city in Sponge Bob Square Pants pj pants, flip flops and a tank top; and not being hauled off to the mental hospital. Chilling in pj pants is an acceptable fashion statement in this city and is encouraged.



Hitting the local Greek diner in any boro at the crack of dawn for a killer breakfast after a night of clubbing, drinking and general rowdiness.

Complete strangers starting up conversations with each other. The friendliness of the people in this city never fails to amaze me.




Riding in a car with the Puerto Rican Flag and having fellow Boriquas honk their horn at you and yell, “Boriqua!” when they spot your car.

The way the languages of all the different cultures in this city become part of the NYC vernacular.

Walking down the street and having someone stop me to tell me they love my tattoos.

playing handball late at night in the park.




Coney Island! Looking at the beach as you enjoy the rides at Astroland and scream your lungs out on The Cyclone.








City Island late at night. My friends eating sea food at Johnnie’s while I munch on ketchup and hot sauce soaked fries as we sit in the out door cafeteria surrounded by the ocean with the music from the cars parked nearby give a soundtrack to the night. Somehow the fries always taste better there.





Shakespeare In The Park. It's a popular summer tradition in New York City. A series of productions of plays by William Shakespeare. The shows take place in the evenings at an open-air theater in Central Park. The Shakespeare in the Park performances were launched by American theater producer Joseph Papp in the 1950s.





Salsa dancing on Orchard Beach on Sunday afternoons during the live salsa concerts. All the salsa legends past, present and future ones manage to come and play for free thrilling the crowds every summer.







Finding the same exact candles you just spent $10.00 for (each) at Macy's in the local 99 cent store.








Nextel…everyone recognizes the familiar chirp of the Nextel walkie talkie built into their phones. I love when I have my head phones on and don’t hear it someone will tap me and say, “Yo someone’s chirping you.”









The appreciative smiles and winks of the cute firemen as they drive by on their fire truck and honk their horn at you.

Grocery shopping at Pathmark at 4 am.

The Subway.





The variety of food. You can eat your way around the world without ever having to leave this city.

The different ethnic neighborhoods from Little Lebanon to Little Russia with Little Italy, El Barrio, and Chinatown in between.

Stargazing on the roof top of my building.






The Yankees and the Mets.











The aroma of sausage and peppers at the annual San Genarro festival in Little Italy.






Valencia Bakery Cake: Valencia cake and Boriquas go way back the bakery exists only in New York (Bronx and Manhattan) Even though they make several different type of cakes Valencia is known for one cake in particular. cake -- rich butter cream frosting covering super-moist white sponge cake with three layers of real pineapple filling. Mention it to any Puerto Rican who has lived in or visited NYC and they get all nostalgic on you. Whenever I travel to another city I always get a request from someone to bring them a Valencia Cake.




The skyline at night.

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Posted by @ 2:21 AM
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Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Stevie is in love


My baby brother Steven is in love. He just turned 17 on Saturday and has been dating a 17 yr old girl named Jaskiry . They make an adorable couple. They’re all giggles and dimples.

While my mom has known they’ve been dating for months since Stevie introduced her to mom right away, Jaskiry’s parents just recently found out about the two. My mother told my brother he needed to go and introduce himself to Jaskiry’s father so that the man would know that my brother was no titere (hoodlum). It turned out that the girl lives in my grandfather’s neighborhood and her parents know my grandfather. My brother approached Jaskiry’s father with the confidence of a full grown man. He held out his hand to her father and said, “Hello sir my name is Steven . I go to school with your daughter and have been dating her for the past month. I wanted to talk to you back then but your daughter asked me not to but I am not a kid anymore and I wasn’t I wasn’t raised to do things behind people’s back so I am here to ask for permission to continue seeing your daughter.”

Steven then told him who his grandfather was and the girl’s dad asked him 101 questions and gave his consent to them. Several more weeks passed every day my brother would take the bus from my house to the other side of the Bronx just to escort her home from school. Her father took note of this and in true Latino fashion approached my brother, “Steven from now on I want you to come over to my house I don’t want you two seeing each other in the streets.” When her mother met my brother she was taken aback by the fact that he was so handsome and well mannered. She called my mother to complement her on raising a fine young man and to ask her permission for Steven to attend a family function. She told my mom to call her Iris and mom told her to call her Maggie. All was going well. The kids were thrilled.


Last Saturday on the 22nd of July it was mom’s turn to call Jaskiry’s mother up to ask permission for the girl to attend Stevie’s birthday dinner. The mother stipulated Steven had to have her daughter home by 9 pm and she could only come over if her brother was their chaperone.


Mom: Of course your son is more than welcomed as are you and your husband if you’d like to attend as well.

Iris: is it going to be something big and will you be serving liquor?

Mom: No it’s just family and friends. There will be no liquor neither my husband nor I drink and we certainly would never serve liquor to kids.

Iris: This is all so new to me. I never let my daughter out at night. Things are so crazy here in the United States. Your son is her first boyfriend.

actually my brother is the first boy the parents know about but he is not her first boyfriend. shhhhhh.

Mom: I understand how you feel. I have two daughters of my own. I assure you steven is not a titere. He is well aware that he is to treat all women the way he’d want his sisters to be treated.

Iris: It’s just that you never know. You know how boys are today, they can’t be trusted.

My mother stared at the phone and smiled but it wasn’t her big cheesy ha ha grin…it was more like let me smile so I won’t say nothing smart assed smile. She cleared her throat.

Mom: sigh I know how I raised my son and I know who my son is. You know how you raised your daughter and who she is. You need to have faith that we both did a good job with our kids.

Iris: It’s just that my daughter is a virgin and I wouldn’t want anything to change that.

Mom: Ahh I see. Well let’s get this out of the way right now. Steven is not a virgin. He is not a rapist, nor does he intimidate females into sleeping with him. My son does not take what is not offered and he is sexually responsible. He uses condoms and to make sure he does my husband and I keep a supply on hand. Like I said I know who I raised. I trust my son to act responsibly and so far he has not betrayed that trust.

My mom must have shocked the living jelly beans out of the lady because the subject was quickly dropped. She then moved on to the subject of racism.

Iris: I hope you’re not a racist.

Mom figured she was saying this because in her ignorance she was forgetting that Puerto Ricans are not all white we come in a variety of flavors. Jaskiry is a tanned complexion just a little bit darker than me.

Mom: Ay Por Dios lady. I am not a racist.

Iris: No it’s just that my daughter is on the dark side.

Mom takes the phone off speaker and says wtf is this woman saying? Her daughter is in cahoots with Darth Vader?

Mom: And?

Iris: I know how Boriquas are. I am white myself.

Mom:Uh huh.

Iris: Steven tells me you have Arab friends and family will they be there too?

Mom: Of course they love Steven they've known him since he was born so it's a big deal for them too.

Iris: I'm afraid to let my daughter go over there. You know how those people are. They are so violent with the bombs and all.

Mom: Don't worry about it I made them all promise to leave their bombs at home. The Jews promised not to shell my apartment in honor of Steven's birthday too.

Iris: No I am serious. They scare me how can you be friends with them?

My mom made the universal "fangul" signal and the universal up your butt hand gesture. Mom was heated.


Mom: Lady would you like to crap on my mother’s grave too now? So far you’ve insulted my intelligence several times during the course of this conversation. I haven’t sent you to hell out of consideration for your daughter who seems like a sweet kid. So for now before my mouth gets away from me I am going to say goodnight.

My mom hung up the phone only to turn around and see my dad and aunt Nora laughing hysterically.

Dad: So are you a racist babe?

Nora: Yeah habibi inquiring arab minds want to know if your ass is racist.

Mom: Don’t make me hurt the both of you because I will. I have a phone in my hand and I know how to use it.

My dad reached over and put his arms around my mother, “awww come here my little racist Boriqua lay some sugar on me.”

Nora: Oh great Allah I have to call Hassan and Mahmoud and tell them to leave the bombs at home. You know how we Arabs are we carry out TNT with us every where!

Mom: Come here Nora so I can slap the pita bread out of you.

Nora: imitating her father’s thick Egyptian accent and English Ohh Magda what for must you be so violent for me?

Mom: imitating a thick Spanish accent Me can’t help it ju know how we Porto Reekans are we is such a violent peoples and racist too.

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Monday, July 24, 2006

The Blind Date


For reasons unknown to me I went on a blind date. I blame it on my girlish enthusiasm over the heat wave being broken. On the day of the date he called me to make arrangements for picking me up. I told him where I lived …”across the street from Stevenson high school.” Usually when I tell people where I live they give me this perplexed look. Even the people from the Bronx have no clue as to where the hell my house is located. I always have to give cab drivers directions. I was prepared to do so with him and then he said, “Stevenson? I went to Stevenson!” Hot diggity man it really is a small world after all (cue Disney music!)

Even though we were the same age he had graduated the year after me, making him a junior when I was a senior. His name didn’t ring a bell at all. I knew all of the juniors and seniors. Well at least the popular ones. I was part of the “in” and the fringe crowd; not by design though it just happened that way.I’m a friendly person by nature and tended to befriend who ever sat in a classroom with me. As a result I was friends with gang bangers, jocks, beauty queens, Goth kids, skaters, and nerds,yet this kid I didn’t know.

He drove up to my house and got out. As soon as I saw him I recognized him! His name was Jason and for three years he had sat at the table across from mine in Mrs. Altebet’s math class. He and I actually had become cool with each other during the last months of my senior year. I remember him as being this chunky kid with a full beard who was tight with Carmen a rocker friend of mine. Amazing we were hooked up by someone whose never even heard of our high school. Our date went well actually it turned into a Stevenson reunion of sorts he was asking me about all of the other kids we knew and was surprised that the majority of the senior class still stays in touch with each other. We were all a pretty tight bunch. He was a nice guy and all but without a doubt it was the weirdest date I had ever been on. All through high school I managed to avoid dating anyone from my school. I have this thing about eating where I crap. I just don’t do it and here I was on a date with a former classmate. At the end of the date I thanked him for the nice evening. As I walked away I thought, “Wow how weird was that?!”

I told a friend about it and she didn’t see how it was weird. However today I bumped into Carmen and told her about it and she thought it was hysterical. And guess what she found it weird too…granted not as weird as last year when one of our high school homeboys asked me to be part of a three some with him and his girl but weird none the less.

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Sunday, July 23, 2006

Dareem-isms

After spending nearly two weeks with us my aunt Nora went back home today. Naturally I miss her she’s a lot of fun but mostly I miss my 3 ½ yr old cousin Dareem. The little girl is a trip. The things that would come out of her mouth have me in stiches! She speaks with a slight lisp and her facial expressions are just too dramatic. Nora says she gets her smart mouth from me. Here’s a few “Dareemisms” to prove my point.



Dareemism #1: Meeting my uncle’s wife for the 1st time
Dareem: Hey you what’s your name?

Stephanie: My name is Stephanie.

Dareem then looked up and down at Stephanie as if she were sizing her up…

Dareem: Stephanie? What the hell is a Stephanie?!


Dareemism #2: Kissing up to my mom My mom’s thick curly hair falls past her waist on this day because of the heat my mom was braiding her hair into 2 braids as she kept Dareem company watching cartoons. Dareem had stopped watching the television and was staring intently at my mother’s braid. She started stroking the finished braid as my mom worked on the other.

Dareem: Titi Maggie…

Maggie: Yes baby?

Dareem: Your hair is beautiful gorgeous .

Maggie: Thank you sweetheart! I love your hair it is beautiful goregeous too.

Dareem: Yeah I know

Dareemism #3: Kissing up to my mom Part Deux

My mom had prepared her famous southern fried chicken for dinner along with baked macaroni and cheese, corn on the cob, whipped candied yams, corn bread, and a green salad. Dareem is not used to eating this type of food unless she eats it in my house.


Dareem: looking up from her plate Mommy this is the bestest foody ever!

Nora: You like it habibi? Titi Maggie made the foody for you.

Dareem: Titi Maggie habibi this is the best foody ever in my life!

Maggie: It is? I’m glad you like it baby.

Dareem: Oh thank you habibi. Mommy don’t make bestest foody ever in my life. I love you!


Dareemism #4: Kissing up to my mom vol. 3

Dareem was torturing my poor dog Cleo she had been pinching her nipples. Totally amazed she had so many of them. My mom scolded her about bothering Cleo for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

Maggie: Dareem! Leave Cleo alone mami that hurts her!

Dareem: Don’t be ridiculous!

Maggie: What did you say?

Dareem: You’re a genius! Beautiful gorgeous!



Dareemism #5: Fighting with her 11 yr old sister

Dareem’s 11 yr old sister Delia loves to torture Dareem by calling her names which really pisses Dareem off.

Delia: You silly goose!

Dareem: You –you- you double U double U double U dot com!





Dareemism #6: On the phone with her 15 yr old sister

My cousin Tatiana was spending the week with her biological father who is not Dareem;s father. Dareem is very close to her….

Dareem: speaking into the phone I miss you Tati.

Tati: I miss you too habibi.


Dareem then took the phone held it close to her chest and hugged it for several seconds.

Dareem: I hug you!

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Saturday, July 22, 2006

The Rain


The heat was unbearable, the heat index was 106. Due to power outages all over the city and Con Edison’s plea for conservation the AC’s in our house were not running on full power. The house was a little bit uncomfortable but not as bad as it was outside.I was looking forward to the cooling thunder storms that were supposed to be headed our way.

I wasn’t alone in my thinking everyone I came across that day talked longingly about the rain headed our way the way a little kid speaks of the ice cream man. I longed for the rain, I prayed for the rain. My eyes ricocheted between the night sky and the clock on the wall. It was 9 pm Where the heck was this rain we were supposed to be getting? I didn’t have it as bad as a lot of people in the city. I thought about the thousands of people with no electrical power in their homes, those unable to afford the luxury of air conditioning or a big municipal building office fan.

My heart felt heavy all of a sudden. My thoughts turned to the on going situation in Lebanon and Israel. I remember something Nora told me years ago about a Lebanese co-worker her age. Nora was singing a nursery rhyme to her child and the woman asked Nora about the song. She explained she had learned it as a child and the woman half-joked that as a child she hadn’t learned nursery rhymes instead she had learned how to duck bombs and how she’d drift off to sleep hearing her country being shelled. The imagery of the story has never left me.

I sat on the love seat feeling the “pffft pfft” breeze of the air conditioner. “Good God in heaven give us a break send some rain please!” I thought out loud. Nora looked at me and started cracking up, “How about a rain dance?” We jokingly did a half assed mini rain dance. Ten minutes later we heard the rumble in the sky and saw the crackle of electricity in the air.

We cocked our heads straining our ears listening for the sound of rain over the noise of our household and closed windows…. Then all of a sudden it came! The sky opened up and a torrential down pour of rain came down on us. The steam came up from the concrete; you could smell it and see it. I ran out to greet the rain getting soaked as the wind whipped the sheets of rain all around me all over me. As I stood in the rain allowing myself to get drenched the loud boom of thunder and lightning turned the night sky into a show of light and sound. Again my thoughts turned to Lebanon and the story told by Nora’s friend. My heart felt as if it were breaking. “Hey your rain dance worked Mia!” Nora yelled out as she took her place next to me welcoming the rain. “Uh huh it sho' did now if I only knew one for world peace we’d be all set!” I shot back. I looked into the heavens unable to see it because of the rain which was now coming down like a steady waterfall.

Maybe it was a combination of stress, the dismal news on television, PMS, and all that I’ve been through in the past month but suddenly I felt tears welling up in my eyes. and the heavens wept I felt my own tears mixing with the rain and for a brief second it felt as if the heavens were weeping with me. If the head cheese had heard a city’s plea for rain maybe she’d hear a world’s prayer for peace. God please hear my prayer, please take your hands off your ears and listen to your children’s pleas, too many childhoods are being lost to bombs.

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Wednesday, July 19, 2006

The Don's Great Medicine...


Due to a kick butt heat wave we’ve been experiencing I’ve been home this week hanging out in the air conditioned comfort of home. It has been brutal these past few days. Yesterday afternoon I was having a conversation with my aunt about some local power outages when the door bell rang. My father’s dog Kane went bonkers there was a stranger at the door….. Nora answered the door and called out to me “Mia there’s a delivery for you!” I searched my head trying to remember if I was expecting anything. I’d already received the new battery and AC plug I’d ordered for my laptop a few days ago. As far as I knew I wasn’t due to receive anything. Again my aunt Nora called out to me reminding me how hot it was in the hallway for the delivery guy. I ran to the door bare foot not stopping to throw something on over my short shorts and tank top…It was a package for me!

The box had no return address and no name from who it was. I quickly took out the tissue paper packing and pulled out the contents….It was a gift basket of cookies! There were macadamia nut cookies, oatmeal raisin cookies, double chocolate chip cookies, sugar cookies and 2 huge cookies as the center pieces. It was beautiful and smelled divine! My 3 year old cousin Dareen lost her toddler mind, “cookie Mia I want a cookie!” “In a minute baby let me see who this belongs to.” At first I was confused thinking it must be for someone else in the building then I looked closer and saw a cookie shaped like a biker bear and started to laugh. I had recently designed a birthday card for a friend featuring a biker bear. I looked closer and saw another cookie in the shape of a flower with “The Don’s Great Medicine” written on it in blue icing. As I stared incredulously at the cookie, a smile crept over my face and I saw the basket had a card attached… it was from my friend The Don a fellow blogger and beloved friend from Kuwait or as he likes to call it “The Sandbox “.

I was at a loss for words and choked up with emotion over the fact that he’d taken the time out from his busy life to arrange this surprise for me. His card instructed me to enjoy the cookies with my family and oddly enough the basket held my family’s favorite cookies and of course mines as well the double chocolate chip of course. I promised them cookies tomorrow. I don’t want anyone touching the basket tonight. It seems to soon to make the beauty of it disappear into a memory. The basket is sitting on my table within my sight, for now I just wanted to savor the cuteness of the gift and the kind thoughts behind it. Moments like these remind me of how lucky I’ve been in life and I just have to stop to thank whoever is in charge for my many blessings. Especially the blessing of a friend nick named The Don.

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Posted by @ 3:38 AM
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Monday, July 17, 2006

Kicking myself all the way home



My Aunt Nora and mom whipped up a Sparab (Spanish & Arab) dinner feast for friends on Saturday and I invited my friend Angela over. After stuffing ourselves we decided to go for a walk off the fantastic meal and took my lovely Cleo along with us. Usually when I take Cleo out I slip her doggie license in my back pocket but on this evening the stuffed grape leaves went to my head I guess and I forgot it. I remembered it outside but it’s no biggie I thought I never get stopped by the cops with Cleo. We were walking on Castle Hill when a patrol car pulled up and an officer called out to me asking if my dog had a license. I couldn’t make out what the officer was saying so he motioned for me to come to the car.

Cop: Do you have a license for that dog?

Mia: Yeah but it’s not on me. I forgot to bring it with me.

Cop: Let me see her Tags.

I explained that her tags had been recently lost and we were waiting for her replacement tags to come in.

Cop: Do you have ID?

I’d left my ID in my bag which was hanging from my bedroom closet door knob. Great.


Mia: Not on me, I left it upstairs.


His partner obviously was a rookie her excitement at writing the ticket gave her away. It was her first time issuing a ticket; it was my first time getting a ticket. It was an evening of firsts! Lord only knows what the ticket was for because her handwriting was that of a serial killer tripping on acid but she was so happy about it so it seemed a shame to point out that it was ineligible. I would like to point out that I could’ve lied about my name and address. I even thought about it for a split second but decided against it. I suck at lying.

Rookie Cop: What’s your name?

Yallah Beena, I thought of saying was my name… sanya wahida…instead the truth came out

Mia: Maria Amin

I watched as she incorrectly wrote out my name on the ticket. Min, Maria she wrote… I could’ve stayed shut…I should’ve stayed shut…it would’ve made the ticket invalid. I wouldn’t have had to go to court…. Instead my stupid ass blurts out …

Mia: No, no, no it’s AMIN not Min pointing to my name on the ticket….then I spelled it out for her A-M-I-N and gave her my address. My correct address.

Angela thought for sure I was going to give a fake name and address she didn’t understand why I was giving my real name and on top of that correcting the spelling. As soon as Officer Rookie handed me the ticket I started kicking myself. All the way home I kept laughing shaking my head saying “No, no, no it’s not MIN it’s AMIN. A-M-I-N.”

When I reached my house I told my family and friends what happened. My friend Officer Mike called me and I told him what happened. I'm thinking he's a cop he won't laugh after all it was one of his fellow cops that gave me the ticket. They all laughed, especially Officer Mike. All day long yesterday my aunt Nora teased me, "What’s your name,Min? Oh no it’s AMIN!" giggling like crazy. Reina couldn’t stop laughing either until I said, “Shaddup heffa guess who I am dragging to court with me on that day?”

I've replayed the scene over and over in my head. I could’ve given the cops any name I wanted to, any address I wanted to. Instead I told her the truth and now am going to be stuck on Sept 13th spending the entire day in court trying to get the ticket dismissed. Oh yeah I am a special one…excuse me while I go kick myself.

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Posted by @ 10:35 AM
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Wednesday, July 12, 2006

File this one under freaky...


File this under one of the freakiest things ever. A few years ago the sister of a former boyfriend gave me a wedding band set that belonged to her late mother. Even though the guy and I had broken up her mom had wanted me to have it, as did my ex-boyfriend. I put the set away for safe keeping in my special jewelry box; the one with the ballerina that pirouettes to Beethoven's Fur Elise. It's my intention to hold onto the set until my ex or his little bro decide to get married and then I will give it back to them. The set is very old and unique it has a diamond cut pattern in the front of both the wedding band and the engagement ring. It also has the former owners initials inside of the ring.


Last month on a rainy miserable Saturday my father and my little brother Steven took a ride to Parkchester; which is like a mile away from my house. As he stepped off the bus my brother's boot laces became undone. He stopped to fix it and as he was adjusting the cuff on his jeans a glint from a puddle caught his eye. It was a small gold ring. My brother stared at the ring wondering if it was real. He looked around to see if anyone was around that might have dropped it. Because of the rain he and my dad were the only 2 people on the usually bustling block during that moment. My brother picked up the ring showed it to my dad and promptly put it in his pocket. He was really pleased with his luck deciding to give the ring to his girl friend.

When they got back home my dad mentioned my brother’s good fortune. Steven placed the ring in my mothers hand. Mom said the ring looked familiar to her. “Oh I know Mia has a ring just like this. Chino’s mother’s wedding band set is just like this. It has the same pattern and everything.” She instructed my brother to get my jewelry box so she could show my dad. When they opened my jewelry box they couldn’t find the ring set. My mother turned the box inside out. Finally on the third try she found the wedding band tucked away in between the folds of the velvet lining but the engagement ring was no where to be found. She inspected the engagement ring and told my father “William this is Mia’s ring.” My brother and my dad didn’t believe it ….until they matched the rings up and looked on the inside of both bands. The rings were the same tiny size and the initials on both of the rings was the same. “Oh my God mami this is Mia’s ring!” said my brother. They were all astonished.

Someone had actually taken that ring from my house and lord knows how long it laid in the street before my brother found it a mile away from our house in a puddle of water in an area that we rarely frequent. My brother played detective and surmised that it must have been one of my sister’s friends because none of his friends have ever set foot in my bedroom. From there my brother continued his detective work saying he knew of only 2 people both friends of my sister that frequent Parkchester. One a boy lives in the area and the other happens to be his girlfriend who takes the bus home from Parkchester, the bus stop she gets on is the same stop that my brother stopped to fix his boot in front of. The couple regularly chills in my bedroom which I share with my sister. My sister often leaves them unattended in the room. Also the rings are very small and even though I have small hands they are too tight for me. The female half of the couple happens to be very, very, very skinny at most she weighs 15 lbs soaking wet. The rings would fit her perfectly as a matter of fact it might even be a wee too big. My mother said that it was all circumstantial evidence and that he couldn’t really accuse anyone without proof. That night when the girl called, my brother told her the ring story without telling her he suspected her and her boyfriend of its theft. The couple has not been back to our house and my brother has now taking to calling them Bonnie and Clyde.

I wasn’t home when all of this was going on later on that night my mother called me at Reina’s to tell the ring story. I was totally amazed. Out of all the people in The Bronx what are the odds that my brother would be the one to find a ring stolen from my house? A ring that no one knew was even missing ? Thank God his boot became undone when he stepped off the bus….or was it fate trying to get the ring back home? I guess Chino’s mom really wanted me to have her rings. By the way the wedding set has found a new home. It is now in a small silk lined box inside of my parent’s safe.

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Tuesday, July 11, 2006

A Shoulder to lean on...


Some people I love are going through a painful period in their lives. Their marriage is coming to an end. After spending half of her life in an arranged marriage to a man she didn’t love the wife has finally found the strength to walk away. They are both wonderful people who deserve nothing but happiness it’s just a shame they couldn’t find it with each other. What once seemed like a promise of love between them never bloomed, it never grew. Instead she lived a lie. Now the time has come when she wants to be free and no one seems to be able to understand this.

Already the families have taken sides. They don’t offer support instead they vilify her. I refuse to take sides, my heart won’t let me. I love them both deeply, profoundly, unconditionally, and above all equally. She stands alone her head down while the family acts as judge, jury, and executioners. I remember reading once, “let he who is without sin, cast the first stone ” obviously these people must be living saints because they bombard her with stones, pebbles, and boulders I speak up in her defense and am told by one of the men to hold my tongue I am only a woman. Before I could reply I hear a familiar voice say, “Only a woman? Had it not been for a woman you would’ve remained a fantasy and some been spilt seed in the palm of your father’s hand.” It was my mother; and people have the nerve to wonder where I get my smart mouth from! My mother comes prepared to defend her best friend and she’s carrying some boulders with her.

I have no boulders, mom’s got that covered. My voice is not deep enough to represent her in the “town” meetings, my father has that covered. What I do have is a shoulder for her to lean on when she feels she can’t go on.



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Sunday, July 09, 2006

Mia & Cleo's Most Excellent Adventure









I pushed myself away from the paper I was working on. I needed a break. I was nursing a “shoot me and put me out of my misery” type headache that just wouldn’t go away. The past few days had been unbearable, and my body ached. I had a new professor at school a Puerto Rican woman from Nebraska with a huge chip on her shoulder. She was determined to prove herself as a teacher here in the Big Apple by making what should have been a five week piece o’cake class into something the Marquis De Sade would’ve found too torturous.

The professor angered over school policy forbidding finals for this five week class came up with a way of circumventing school policy in the form of a weekly exam and a weekly paper. We had to pick the topic ourselves and provide our own research and apply to whatever we had covered in class during the week. Doesn’t sound too hard does it? The problem was that if she did not like your paper for whatever reason: topic, writing style, wind blowing up her butt during a full moon, it would be returned to you un-graded and you’d get no credit for it. There were no “do overs.” Now take into consideration that the five papers written for this class make up 3/4 of your final grade and you start to feel a little antsy about the quality of each paper you write, more so than usual.

Adding to the misery was the weather. It was as if someone had turned New York’s furnace on full blast and closed all the windows. Luckily my apartment was not too bad. It’s one of the advantages of living so close to the water. There was a wonderful breeze skipping off the long island sound and into my bedroom. Every time the breeze hit me there was tiny aroma explosion of cucumber melon, a result of my body spray and lotion. Looking out my window I remember thinking how beautiful the sky was, and how lucky I was in general. It was one of those “Gracias for the many blessings Ms. Divine Power…can I hear a hallelujah and amen” moments. Life at that particular moment was very good.

My dog Cleo was standing beside me looking out the window when a massive funnel of wind barreled into my bedroom sucking everything up in its wake. I felt myself being sucked out of my room flying through the air everything swirling around me. I grabbed my messenger bag with my school work as it flew past me and wrapped it tightly around me. I heard Cleo barking and I stretched my hand to feel for her pulling her towards me and hugging her close as we twisted and turned in the air.

Through the air I flew with my faithful companion super puppy until the wind died down depositing me flat on my butt with Cleo in my lap. I heard tiny voices yell out “The Mia has landed!” and was suddenly surrounded by the lollipop guild wearing stethoscopes and setting up IV poles.I dusted myself off and looked around trying to figure out where I was, “Cleo I have a feeling we’re not in The Bronx anymore.” The paper I had been working on lay scattered at my feet. I looked around me. There was pastel colored graffiti every where. My father would have a fit if he saw this! He would’ve cursed up a storm “*&^%! Kids!” and have ran to find the bottle of graffiti remover. My mom the artist would love it! She would’ve asked me to photograph it. I rummaged around for my digital camera the one Jackie got me as a birthday gift. It wasn’t in my bag, it was back home.

I saw a few heads pop up here and there obviously as curious about me as I was about them. A woman slowly made her way towards me. I was struck by her height and beauty. Well considering that I’m 4ft 11 anything over 5ft is tall to me, but this woman was actually tall. Her long curly hair was blonde, real blonde not that fake L’oreal bottle blonde. Her eyes were a very pale shade of blue. She reminded me of my mother despite the fact that my mother has auburn hair and dark eyes; still she looked so much like my mother. “Hola mijita” she said taking my hand into hers. I felt safe with her. She led me to a table where four men were playing dominoes. “Capicu cabron!” yelled one old man as he slammed his dominoes on the table causing it to vibrate. He spotted me and stood up. He came towards me and we just stared at each other. He had the most amazing dimples, and cheek bones. There was something oddly familiar about him. I felt as if I should’ve known him. His dimples and the cleft in his chin reminded me of the ones that grace the features of my uncles and my brother. His dark oblique eyes and copper colored skin reminded me of my own. He looked like an older tanner version of my uncles Tank and Gil. As he got closer to me I realized he smelled of Old Spice after shave and Marlboro cigarettes with a hint of café Bustelo. I liked it; his scent brought back pleasant memories of my great grandfather Don Candelario and of my grandpa Che. While the old man and I continued to size each other up there was a slight commotion in the crowd that had gathered. A tiny ancient woman stepped up. She looked old enough to have baby sat for Moses and Jesus. She told me I had to leave or I was going to miss the deadline for turning my paper in. She told me I had to hurry or I would miss the bus. I knew she was right I didn’t have time to chill I had work to do. “So where’s the bus?”

Before anyone could answer trouble swooped in from the sky on a swiffer broom. It landed gracefully at my feet in the form of my “Analyzing Criminal Behavior” professor. I held my breath as she reached for the papers that were scattered about on the ground. The papers seemed to have a life of their own dissipating into the air and into my messenger bag as soon as she reached for them. I quickly figured out that was not a good sign.

The wicked professor from the mid-west stood before me and held out her hand. She tapped her foot impatiently on the ground sending little clouds of dust into the air making her companions the winged monkeys cough. “Mia give me the paper now.” she said, Jabbing her long fingers into the tattoo on my arm. “I-I-I can’t. I haven’t finished it yet.” The winged monkey on her left mimicked her behavior. All of a sudden the winged monkey seemed to fly but not of his own free will. Someone from the crowd had kicked him where the sun didn’t shine. The wicked professor from the mid-west looked around and saw she was out numbered. She gestured towards her winged minions as she mounted her swiffer broom. She took off into the sky and did a 360, swooping down inches from my face and said,” I’ll get you yet, your paper on Psychiatric Disorders in Youthful Offenders and your little dog too.” I remember thinking that MGM and Turner Classics were going to be suing me big time since my dream was sounding a lot like a certain movie they own.

In an instant she was gone. I had no time to lose. The bus stop was 50 miles away and due to the lack of transportation in this place I was hoofing it. My paper was due in a matter of days. My degree hinged on my passing my summer class, and passing the class was contingent on this paper. “Take el path, el mosaic path tu sabes, the one embedded con el arte, follow it.” I was told. Yes people I dream in Spanglish. Hey what can you do man I am a product of my environment.

I was instructed not to get off the road and to ignore any voices that might call out to me from the side of the road no matter how familiar they sounded. If I stepped off the road I couldn’t go back home. I’d have to stay there and “ Nena you’re not going to like what is off the side of the road it’s not pretty. Okay? So cojelo con mucho take it easy stay on the road. If someone calls you act like you don’t hear them.” said the ancient woman. “The Piraguero (snow cone man) will be there waiting for you tell him I sent you. He’ll give you a metro card so you can take the bus straight home.” I waved goodbye and set along my path. Every now and then I looked back only to see them getting smaller until there was no sign of them. I focused on the road; it was a true work of art! More like a museum on the ground. It was embedded with mosaic reproductions of great works of art. I spotted Starry Night by Van Gogh, El Velorio by Francisco Oller and a few works by Frida Khalo , Diego Rivera, Goya, and Picasso. Every now and then I heard someone sweetly calling my name but I just stayed on the path just as I was instructed.

Cleo and I had been walking for a while when we came across a couple of girls. It turns out they were headed to the bus stop too. Now the walk wouldn’t be too bad as I had human company. I mean don’t get me wrong Cleo is excellent company but she is not exactly a great conversationalist. We talked about our lives, fashion, tramp stamps, the state of the world and of course men as we made our way closer to the bus stop. Halfway there someone suggested we stop off at a Starbucks that was on the side of the road. I tell you those things are just everywhere! “ Declining their offer I explained that I had to stay on the road. Suddenly the sky was filled with fireworks. I am such a sucker for fire works. Fire works for me is like waving cake in front of a fat kid’s face,irresistible. I was mesmerized by them but with each explosion that went off I felt my head hurting as if it were going to split open. It was if my head and the fireworks were in sync with each other. One of the girls placed her hand on the small of my back gently guiding me into Starbucks, while the other chick held the door open for me, “come on you need to sit down you’re exhausted.” Okay I’ll sit for a minute, catch my breath and leave.

As soon as I stepped into the place I began to feel funny. My heart seemed to slow down and I knew I had made a mistake. The last thing I needed right now was the rush of caffeine in my system constricting my arteries. The aura I got off this place was bad; it was one of panic and sadness. Probably from all the Starbuck heads flipping out over the long lines I thought. I couldn’t breathe and I could actually hear my heart slowing down. I put my hand on the now closed door. The pauses between beats were getting longer until it felt as if my heart had stopped. I couldn’t get the door open it was too heavy for me. I sank down onto the floor leaning on the door. I told the girls I needed air. I could hear my father calling out my name. Cleo was barking again she wouldn’t let the two girls near me; they were trying to help me up and guide me to the back of the shop. One of them said there was a cot in the back for me to lay down on. It looked really dark back there. I don’t like being in the dark in unfamiliar places. It smelled horrible, they needed a case of Fabreeze and to light some incense ‘cause it smelled like decay or what I imagined goat ass to smell like up in there. I was trying to pull myself up grabbing onto Cleo for support when someone on the other side of the door opened it up.

I landed at the feet of a man wearing a black trench coat. He had several friends with him. How did I know they were friends? They were all wearing the same black trench coats. So either they were a gang or there had been a mega wicked sale on black trench coats at the local department store. “The Black Trench Coat Mafia” popped into my head. The leader of the black trench coat mafia bent over and scooped me into his arms. He then put his hand on my chest. Carajo this is not my day. Not only can I not breathe but now this dude is gonna cop a feel and I don’t have the strength to punch him in his face. I swear I have no luck. Cleo for this you don’t bark?

As soon as his hand touched my chest it felt all warm but then again I’m sure many women have experienced that in their life time but this was different. I felt my heart starting up again. He looked into my face smiling,” all better now?” “Yes” I kind of felt guilty for thinking he was trying to feel my boobs up. He slowly set me on my feet. All of a sudden I didn’t feel too good. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I felt so tired and so cold. Someone’s hand touch my forehead. My body felt weak and I felt my legs give from under me. “She has a fever. Lay her down she needs rest. We can’t help her with this one. It has to break on its own.” WTF is this Little House On The Prairie? Someone go fetch Pa Ingalls and give half-pint some Tylenol, she’s got a bus to catch!

I rested in a field under an apple tree, with a black trench coat as my bedding. Nearby there was a stream. I could hear it. I struggled to wake up but my eyelids were just too heavy. I could feel movement around me. Every now and then I’d manage to pry open my eyes and would see gauze filtered images of the black trench coat mafia members watching me. They laid cool cloths dipped in water on my forehead. They moistened my dry lips. Someone covered me with their coat when I was cold. Sometimes I could hear the winged monkeys flying over head and hear the voice of the wicked professor of the mid-west calling out to me. Other times I heard my mother calling me in the sing song tone she uses when she’s waking us up for school in the morning. I don’t know how long I laid there but when I awoke Cleo was licking my hands. After having something to eat and drink I felt better, ready to resume my journey. The leader of black trench coat mafia informed me they’d be walking me to the bus stop.

Mia: Are you all part of a band or something?

Harry: No we’re guardian angels.

Mia: Curtis Sliwa’s Guardian Angels ?I don’t see red berets.

Harry: No not that kind.

He rolled his eyes towards the heavens and pointed upwards.

My eyes opened up to the size of saucers and if anyone of you have ever seen how big my eyes can get you know that’s not pretty. Freak it the way this dream was going it was to be expected. Might as well go with the flow.

Mia: Oh. Are all of you are my guardian angels?

Harry:No, just me. The rest are just my friends. We were just in the area. You know Mia you’ve had me working over time these past few days. First the incident with the bridge, you should know better by the way young lady, then the car and now this.

Mia: Sorry.

Harry: My name is Harry.

Mia: Nice to meet you Harry. Has anyone ever told you look like Bruno Ganz? Damiel in Wings of Desire? No offense but I’ve always pictured angels and being more dainty looking. You kind of look like a hit-man or something.

Harry: Yeah I get that all the time. Not all of us look like Fabio on the cover of a romantic novel.

Mia: I like faces with character. So you’re my guardian angel eh?

Harry: Yup.

Mia: So mira where’s the halo and those huge ass wings I’ve heard so much about ?

Harry: Oh the halo ‘s strictly for the stay at home angels. You have to look really close to see our wings they are invisible to the human eye. We like to blend in.

Mia: Stealth Wings, how pentagon-ish of you.

Harry: The heavy bird like wings and all that other stuff out in the open wouldn’t be practical on earth you know. We walk among you.

Mia: Ahh so the rumors are true then. So have you always been with me?

Harry: Mostly…Yes.

Mia:The time that I was caught in that….

Harry: yes that was me.

Mia: What about the….

Harry: Yes that was me too.

Mia: Get along gang tricycle incident of 1985?

Harry: Me.

Mia: So you’re the one to blame for that beautician hacking all of my hair off and making me look like Dora The Explorer when all I wanted her to do was to trim my layers?

Harry: No that wasn’t me. I was at a seminar. There was a replacement guardian on duty that day. That was that guy over there. Martin raise your hand!

All of a sudden an angel with a Dorothy Hamill hair cut shot his hand up. Suddenly the hair cut I had been given made sense to me.

Martin: Sorry about that love.

Seeing Martin who looked rather effeminate reminded me of something…

Mia: Harry I’ve always wondered about something I remember reading once.

Harry: Yes?

Mia: Angels they are neither male or female right? They are both sexes right?

Harry: Yes.

Mia: But you’re a guy. I mean you look like a guy

Harry: Yeah but some of us look like women and with some of us you can’t tell exactly what we are at first glance.

Martin: androgynous

Harry:Exactly

Mia: Like a lot of my auntie Yvette’s friends but without the gay pride t-shirt.

Harry: Yes

Mia: So angels in a way are the original transgenders.

Harry: Mia you have a very unique way of looking at things.

Mia: So I’ve been told.

I noticed that the travelers that were with me were not among the trench coat mafia .

Mia: What happened to the other 2 females going to the city?

Harry:They changed their minds.

Harry: Are you tired?

Mia: No I’m used to walking. I walk several miles a day.

Harry:Yes I know…the bridge in the middle of the night.

Mia: You’re not going to let that go are you?

Harry:Are you ever going to do it again?

Mia:Well since you and my mom are being so anal about it. No, I promise I won’t ever do it again. Are you ever going to be out sick and leave Martin in charge of me again when I am getting a hair cut?

Harry: laughing No.

“I’m surprised at you Mia”, said one of the trench coat mafia members Harry told me his name was Octavio.

Mia:Why?

Octavio: Well usually people want to ask questions

Mia: Like what?

Octavio:What’s the true meaning of life...

Mia: Oh I know the answer to that one.

They all looked amused… “Well enlighten us child”, piped a voice.


Mia:The true meaning of life is different for everyone. It’s never the same for any 2 people. It all depends what lives in their hearts. What gives them peace.

Octavio:How old is this child again?

Harry: 23

Martin: She’s been here many times before you know.

Mia: Have I really?

Martin: Yes. I’ve met you a few times before you know.

Mia: And none of those past Mia’s filled you in that this wasn’t a good look for me ?!pointing to my haircut as I shot him the evil eye

Harry:laughing Let it go Mia.

Mia: Fine.

We walked in silence for a minute or so. Cleo kept the trench coat mafia amused by doing tricks.

Harry: So you have no questions?

Mia:Well yeah.

Octavio: Oh really so what’s the question?

Mia:Why?

Octavio: Because I am curious.

Mia: No the question is Why.

Octavio: Why what?

Mia: Just that. Why? Por que. Why the wars, why the hate, why the genocide, why the disease, why the evil. Why the flowers, why the music, why the love, why the good.

Octavio: What do you think the answer is ?

Mia: Why ask why. If none of it existed we’d never know the true potential of human kind. Accept it and try to change what you can. It’s all about free will and making choices.

Octavio: That’s it then?

Mia: No I’d like to add a big Thank You as well.

Martin: Why?

Mia: For everything I mentioned and more.

Martin: Wise beyond her years.

Mia: Ay don’t try to suck up Martin you’re still not off the hook for this! pointing to hair

Martin: You promised to let it go Mia!
I was about to make another snarky remark about him sleeping on the job during my hair cut when I saw the town ahead of us. It was beautiful. It reminded me in some ways of my favorite spot in Central Park. Underneath a weeping willow tree stood an old man handing out piraguas (snow cones). I approached his cart checking out the tamarindo (tamarind), jonjoli (sesame), cherry and coco syrups he poured liberally over the piraquas in their paper cups. “ Hola Don Piraguero la vieja del otro pueblo me mando ande usted.”(Hello Sir Snow Cone Man the old lady from the other village sent me) “Si ya lo sabia tesoro” (Yes, I already knew it treasure) and he handed me a coco piragua and a metro card. He touched my face giving me the warmest smiles “que dios te bendiga mija” (May God Bless you my child) “Gracias senor igualmante!”(thank you sir likewise) The leader of the trench coat mafia pointed out the bus stop in the shade of a tree.

Harry: Quite an adventure you’ve had haven’t you?

Mia: Yup Mia and Cleo’s most excellent adventure.

Harry: Are you and Cleo ready to go home now?

Mia: Yeah I have a paper I have to work on.

Harry: Do you feel better now?

Mia: Sure do you and the rest of the trench coat mafia took good care of me.

Harry: The trench… oh my I’ve never heard us called that!


We walked towards the bus that was going to take me home. It looked a lot like the #36 bus that runs past my house. The trench coat mafia took turns hugging me. I hugged Martin and told him,” I was only teasing you Martin…it’s only hair relax it ain’t that serious.” Harry got on board the bus with me. “I’m escorting you all the way home.” I turned to wave good-bye to the rest of the trench coat mafia and winked at Martin. I don’t know how long the ride took all I know is that I leaned on Harry and quickly fell asleep. When he woke me up the bus was in NYC, well actually we were at the supposed entrance of NYC.
Harry: You’ll be fine from here just open the door. You're out of the woods You're out of the dark You're out of the night Step into the sun Step into the light Keep straight ahead for The most glorious place On the face Of the earth or the sky Hold onto your breath Hold onto your heart Hold onto your hope March up to the gate And bid it open—Open...

Oh wunnerful a guardian angel that quotes lyrics from The Wizard of Oz my butt is definitely getting sued by MGM because of this dream.


I opened one eye first…ay bright light! Bright light! I quickly closed it. I decided to open them slowly. I smelled flowers, lots of them. I slowly opened my eyes trying to adjust to the light in the room. Once they were fully opened I noticed all the flowers. Wait a minute this is not my bedroom. What’s the deal with all these flowers? I saw someone crying I couldn’t make them out. Okay let me add this up. Flowers, lots of flowers plus blasting air conditioner plus crying person equals funeral parlor! HOLY CRAP se jodio Mia . That’s it I am dead…I’m dead, I’m dead…my tummy growls. Hold up. Dead people feel hunger? This not Dawn of The Dead human brain and flesh hunger. This is more like turkey and cheese on whole wheat with spicy brown mustard type of hunger. I pick up my head and say, “Ma? Pa?”, nothing. Louder with feeling, “ Mami?! Papi?! ” In less than a second my bedside is filled with people.

Dad: So you had a really bad dream?

Mia: It wasn’t all bad. I just wanted to get home.

Dad: (laughing) All you had to do was click your heels three times and say “there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”

Mia: Pa?

Dad: Yeah baby girl?

Mia: If anyone from MGM or Ted Turner’s office calls you’ve never heard of me okay?


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Posted by @ 2:29 AM
7 comment from: Blogger Bloo, Blogger sexygoba, Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger laila, Blogger Mia, Anonymous Anonymous, Anonymous Anonymous,


Papillona Sky's Post.a.no.secret July Tag



Papillona Sky has made the Post.A.No.Secret Tag a monthy feature on her blog. This is my no secret for the month of July….


If you’d like to join in the rules are simple….1. Post it on your blog. If not email it to papillona@gmail.com.
2. Do not tag anyone. The tag starts ONLY from Papillona’s Blog



By the way notice the name is “Post.a.no.secret.” which means you don’t have to reveal your innermost darkest deepest secrets. Have fun with it people.

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Posted by @ 1:43 AM
8 comment from: Blogger December, Blogger Papillona ®, Blogger Mia, Blogger Mia, Blogger oleg, Blogger Mia, Anonymous Anonymous, Anonymous Anonymous,