My 30's are getting ready to give birth to my 40's

ONCE UPON A DECADE… I had an idea and started writing

 

 

ONCE UPON A TIME… I had an idea and started writing

 

The countdown has begun for the inevitable new chapter in my life, the grieving transition into my 40’s. The mere fragment of a reflection, that I have allowed myself to have on this aging process has created some sort of a subliminal effect on me, it’s not easy to actually verbalize the meaning of this number.

Every day there is so much I have to keep up with, things like debt, work, clothes, hair, friends, wrinkles, men, undesirable extra pounds and so many other day-to-day issues. 

So, it has become a bit intense for me to figure out a way to keep all brain cells working at a full time speed to deal and accept the number 40.
 
It’s a magical reaction, all I have to do is remember how close I’m getting to that age and immediately get a nervous twitch.  For a split second I can actually feel there’s a shortness of breath, followed by a sensation like quickly seeing my younger years passing right in front of my eyes in panoramic images. I remember very vividly when the age number was less, I mean a lot less than the number I’m about to be in a year from now.
 
It’s easy to loose track of one’s self during this aging process. I want to believe that somewhere in the brain there is a rational side and if I happen to be mistaken, maybe I should try surfing the net and check if there are any pills available in the market to help me control this mournful way to foresee life after 40.
 
Perhaps, I should practice at least once a week, a routine exercise to help me develop the habit of diverting my thoughts from this anxiety caused by getting older.

There’s got to be a way to toy around with the thought that there is an actual group of people on the phase of the earth who happen to welcome a new spring into their lives every single year, because age is nothing but a number and one’s true age is the one you hold in your heart. Please forgive me for saying this, but my heart could care less about the seasons, plus it is actually throwing tantrums and also begging me to quit adding numbers to my age and decades to my life.
 
There should be a universal mantra to help me behave accordingly to my age. I wish I could have a magic wand to fully stop this mathematical nonsense.

 

I can’t help to feel that this cycle is very much like a puzzle, it sounds so simple in theory when it’s not so easy to fit all the pieces into the right places, it kind of feels like going down hill on bike without brakes and its seat.

Lately I've noticed that my mental state of denial about my age confuses the heck out of me.

There are days when getting out of bed in the morning my entire body yells out, "I'm 80." 

Sometimes, in the very early part of the morning when my vision is still kind of blurry from waking up, I look into my hazy reflection in the mirror and for a brief moment I can see a twenty-some year old staring right back at me.

I also have the kind of mornings when I get in the bathroom to take a shower, and right before I get in, I just stand there by the tub… listen to the water running… not really thinking… When suddenly a powerful unknown force hits me and I can’t resist taking one quick glance at my bed … right after that I have no choice but to run back to bed and get under the covers.  And that’s not all!! I hear a little voice in my head saying, “Five more minutes then take a shower.” It worries me to see how much power my inner-teenager has over me.
 
I have to be honest nine years ago I was not a happy camper turning 30. The transition was the equivalent of having a never-ending pre-menstrual syndrome.
Little by little, one day I forgot about my age and suddenly it dawned on me, being thirty is awesome… Oh boy! Wait a minute! I’m sorry, let me rephrase that… Being in my thirties was awesome.
 
It was in my 30's when I started trying to live consciously, enjoying everything to the fullest. Plus, I learned the things I didn’t want to learn before or didn’t care for or maybe hadn’t paid much attention to.
 
I started the decade freshly divorced, a contribution to the statistics. I became independent and single for the first time in my adult life.
 
As a hormonal being as I am, I got confused, cried and went through life as an entity trying to process so many things at the same time. I had no idea who I was. I only knew what I didn’t want in my life anymore. Back then, I would have pawned an ovary in exchange to know the things I did want in life. Now, almost a decade later, I know who I am, I’m aware of what I have learned, experienced, seen, dreamed about, wept, cursed, cried, laughed, fallen, gotten up, and I still have no clue where my life is taking me.
 
It would have been amazing to have money and travel for the next 12 months, but the economy has not been on my side for the past three years. So, this will be my journey, starting today September 25^th.  This will be my path as I get closer to the end of my chapter. This is my venting out idea to get rid of my old thoughts. I just want to change the chip so I can turn 40 without the melodrama.

Also, I’m quite aware I will not always be able to hold back the grimace in its entirety, I must remind myself that at this age in particular, I need to be extremely careful not to emphasize the wrinkles I already have.  Vanity - although never a very good quality - tends to come first!
 
This cannot be so overwhelming!

 

If I have gotten this far in life, I’m sure I must have learned something along the way. I love the idea of placing my ignorance on a scale, I’d like to rescue myself from this madness, give myself credit for everything I have done right in my life, put away my ego and expose all my insecurities. I want to take mental pictures of the things I hate. I want to be able to pin point every single little thing that turns the sky bluer and makes the trees look greener.

 
I’d like to commit to my dilemma for the next 12 months. I think it’s a good way not to let time pass me by. 

 

I admit it, I’ve turned into a Looney Toon because of my age, but in my defense this mental process is a lot easier only in theory, since I will have to become familiar with all the parameters I will encounter from here and on.

Let’s say I don’t die in the next 10 years. I cannot even begin to imagine the ordeal of turning 50. Nevertheless, it’s not the right time to go into that decade or into many details about where I will be so far into the future. First things first, I guess it’s better to find out if the world will survive 2012, by then… If nothing happens, I’ll start making plans ... What will I plan? ... I have no freaking idea!

And I finally gave birth to my 40's!!

 

And I finally gave birth to my 40's!!!

10 years of gestation + 8 days to process my 30's = A brand new path to start a new decade filled with so much to live and learn.

Things I will always remember my 30's by:

   The accumulation of 20 lbs in 10 years.

 

 Friends have been a great investment and as time has passed... they've become more and more valuable.

I relentessly questioned myself - in my 30's - "Who am I?"

I got to my 40's just thinking about living the rest of my life being and enjoying the person "I have become."

  A wise advice from a friend:
                  “Give each new person you meet 100 points. From them on it's their call on adding or deducting points from themselves." 

 

 People do not change. I'm the one who has to change. This process is not always welcome, but in the end everyone wins.

 Wise advice from a friend:
                         "You have to love people just the way they are... if you can.”

 Interesting concept from a friend on being single:
                       "Why make ONE man unhappy when I can bring happiness to so many.”

   Interesting concept that I recently read on a friend's Facebook page:
"Prince charming? Nooooo!!! I want the WOLF! - He can see you better, hear you better and wants to eat you up!”

 After wasting a lot of time in my 30's trying to understand the meaning of life. I concluded that no one knows!

Therefore, if a question has no definite answer... Why on earth would I insist on loosing my valuable time questioning the unknown? Personally, I have many other useful things to do.

  The most beautiful moments have been the simplest ones, the kind that don't cost any money. These things happen to all of us every single day - I have to keep reminding myself to pay close attention so I don't miss any of those precious moments.

Nowadays, I only commit to short-term plans. 

Long-term plans tend to keep me focus in the future without letting me see or live in the present. 

 Do something silly! It's a good reminder to feel alive.

 Breaking my routine works better than any medicine.

The glass is ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS half full!

 

  “forgiveness”... mmmm... it is possible... I just have a hard time forgetting. Tough lesson for my 40's.

   "Patience" - A very complicated and unpleasant word. It's been a royal pain to accept its meaning. Someone once told me that in order to process and conquer the concept of these eight letters I had to think hard, talk less and speak slower to decipher the appropiate time to do or say something.
I have been practicing this theory for a couple of years already and I can only hope to handle "patience" better... way better in my 40's.

    Life is very fragile and/or too generous. In a matter of seconds everything can change for the better, worse or simply cease to exist. I can't find a better reason to live a better life without making everything so darn complicated.

Sadness and problems come without warning ... However happy moments need to be created and it takes time to work on them to make them last.

This past decade - for some odd reason - I had to learn to understand this simple fact of life. Remembering and holding on to those very happy moments help me carry the load of most sour and unexpected misfortunes.

  Dreaming is a requierement.

 
 
  My 30's taught me that it's totally fine to hit bottom and feel hopeless, BUT! moping around for more than 4 days affects my health.

.

      The perfect man does not exist and the right one for me is very hard to find.

 Not everyday someone makes me feel butterflies in my stomach, smile all day long, sleep very few hours without feeling tired the next day or suddenly make me realize the trees got greener and the sky a lot bluer... If it only lasts for a brief period of time it does not matter ... It's always worth enjoying the work of Cupid.

  I honestly want to become the person my dog thinks I am.

 I honestly want to become the person my cat trusts so blindly.

During my 30's I made ​​peace with the fact that not all things work out the way I expect them to. So, I started practicing - for mental health purposes only- to convince myself that if I don't get something is basically for my own good. Whether it's true or not ...It works like a charm!

 I'm 100% certain that any new routine requires 6 weeks of total dedication to turn it into an effortless habit.

 It was only 10 years ago that I could easily sleep 8, 9 or 10 hours. Presently, I can only sleep 5 hours. I definitely have to learn to live more hours.

  Feeling "guilty" is the best way for me to stop moving forward in life.

 My favorite quote (Paulo Coehlo):
"Everything that happens once can never happen again. But everything that happenes twice will surely happen a third time."
There are a lot of things that should totally happen to me again!

A sickly economy taught me that even though my job might be working out just fine, it's always a safe bet to have a plan B. You can't never be too sure!

I refuse to name my greatest and most painful experiences using the word "failure." If you don't learn, you don't grow.
I'd love to believe I've learned enough from life so far and remain just as dumb as I've become so far as long as I don't have to learn anything else for the rest of my days. But I better be patient (I really don't like that word), there's a lot more I don't want to learn, but I have to...

Occasionally,  I take pauses to observe the way life moves and works outside my bubble. It keeps me grounded. It's a reality check to realize the world does not revolve around me.

 Google killed my excuse to use these three words "I don't know."

Toothpaste and dental floss are a thousand times cheaper than going to the dentist.

 
You have to make new friends periodically. Every time I meet new people I meet a new teacher of life.

  3 broken bones taught me that:
* Pain does go away

* Therapy always works

* Everything has a solution

* Starting from scratch is the best recipe to appreciate what's been lost.

 I'm not too thrilled about getting old.

Goal in my 40's:

Making Peace with age. OUCH! This lesson is not going to be fun.

Life got easier when I started accepting the way my life turned out to be and enjoy it as it is for what it is.

I'm no longer focused on what I don't have because it doesn't let me see what I DO have.

  Eventually during my 40's I will learn not to cry when I get angry and try to defend my point of view. Nobody takes me seriously when my arguments begin and end with boogers hanging down my nose.

 Independence = Something that has cost me an ovary and uterus - I guard it with my life.

  I began my 30’s quite sure on how I would reach my 40’s.

Nothing happened as planned.

Between now and age 50 I give myself full permission to live day by day to build the path that will lead me into the next decade.

  I am NOT CONSCIOUSLY stubborn. I have Basque blood from both of my parents...Ok! Ok! I will work on it! - As long as you  can prove me wrong.

 Not everyone comes into this world with a functioning biological clock. Mine did not even "make a sound" in my 30's, however I do not rule out the possibility of adopting a child in the future ... obviously, if the economy allows me to do so.

 Wise advice: “The squeaky wheel gets the oil.”

 

Wise comment from a friend:
“Don't tell me there's nothing wrong when something IS wrong. That's just another way of lying which forces me to play dumb and act like I don't care.” 

 It's always good to answer the phone smiling since the person on the other side of phone can't see me ... At least that way they can get a good mental picture of me.

 Smiling is contagious. 

 Having friends of all ages has given me a better angle to view life.

 We all have a price. It's good to know how much you are worth so you never EVER sell yourself short.

   My job can be hard and tedious, but working is never a punishment. It's quite the opposite - at least for me - It's a luxury that pays my bills. So, I better keep doing it with a good attitude.

 

 Wise advice from a woman who passed away a couple of years ago:

"Every time you start questioning somebody's behavior, you must stop listening to words and pay close attention to the actions."

  The wisest comment I've ever heard on TV:

“If you live in the past you have already died. If you live in the future you haven't been born yet.”

  Advice from a friend when everything seems to be going wrong:

“Things can always be worse. You could have a gay siamese brother and share the same ass."

 Death...The only thing I know will happen to me for sure and I can't quite grasp the reality of it.
  

And lastly...

I was pleasantly surprised by a man who taught me the true meaning of being "man."

Contrary to the jokes and stereotypes of gay men, he has shown me a much higher level of integrity, emotional strength and commitment to his true self.

It's not that straight men lack of these things, it's just that life does not make or force them to go the extra mile.

For the past four years I have met a group of men in our society who are literally my heroes. They have made me want to be as solid as they are, but in all honesty I doubt I ever will... Life doesn't force me to go the extra mile...

Eight days ago I gave birth to my 40's with a lot of love around me, more than I realized I had. Not that that I didn't know it, but somehow I forgot to put some weight on what is so invisibly tangible.

Moving to another subject...

I never knew what to expect from this blog. From the beginning I said that if had at least 500 visitors I'd be thrilled! But this past September 25th, 2011 I had already accumulated several thousand visits.

Thank you so very much for keeping me company during the past 12 months.

I'm even more thankful for all my new online friends. If I hadn't done this blog I would have missed the opportunity to meet so many of you.

Thank you very much for all the messages I received - for an entire year - from this cyber world wishing me a good day, good night, good weekend and good Monday.

Thanks to all of you who wrote to me to check on how I was doing after my accident and OF COURSE to everyone who greeted me at a distance the day I turned 40.

Your company has touched me so deeply, it's hard to put in words. So, I'll use the best word in the dictionary "THANKS." You gave me a very special year!

Well, I met my deadline ... I gave birth to my 40's!

I'm off to live a new decade now! 

Ring! Ring!... Hello...

 

Ring! Ring!... Hello...

Since I’m a big fan of Botox wrinkles don’t quite remind me how old I am, but making one phone call sort of makes realize how long I’ve been a witness of how far phones have come and that makes me feel old.

I’m a woman from a generation when the ringing of a phone made an entire household scream “PHONE!” 

 Ages ago, people gladly picked up the phone, not even knowing whom was on the other side, What a concept, huh?

Talking on the phone was like a hobby and some people were great at it!

People held the phone with their own hands! No headset! No bluetooth! Yikes!

A little over a decade ago a cell phone made me feel like a tycoon.

I owned a super bulky black thing with 3 screen colors “black, white and gray,” had no more than 4 rings, however it was still a phone, meaning IT served its purpose - It received and I made phone calls… THAT WAS IT!

Back then I used to turn off the phone at night when going to sleep!! THAT’S INSANE! Who or why would anyone do that? 

During my early 30’s I moved up to the cell phone with a very colorful screen.

I thought that was the coolest thing ever.  For the first time in my life I kept myself entertained staring at all the pretty colors while talking to someone on the phone.

About five years after the pretty colors blew my mind away, the text messaging service came into my world and from then on… I have never been a big fan of talking on the phone anymore.

I love my phone not to TALK but to READ.

 

I have an issue with gravity. I kind of kill phones very often. You may not know this, but if you drop a phone too many times THEY DO BREAK… 

My clumsiness took me straight to the “cell phone parade.” And everytime I got a new one I came out of the store with a better, improved and more complicated device which always made me scream, “DAMN IT! I’M TOO OLD FOR THIS CRAP! I WANT A PHONE, A SIMPLE THING TO MAKE AND RECEIVE CALLS… OH! And also for texting, but the rest I do not need!”

 

Soon came the Internet to my phone, however my pretty colorful phone had a little dinky screen – of course, not suitable to browse the web. So, it was time to change again…

Last year I got a blackberry. 

I cried for 5 consecutive days, I just couldn’t get it!!!

So many little keys, it’s a good thing a have very small fingers.

How do people with chubby fingers use these things? It’s kind of cruel concept if you think about it.

A Blackberry looks like a small calculator, actually it looks like anything but a phone!

 

Its menu freaked me out, so many features: wi-fi, set up, applications, msn messenger, facebook, twitter, internet, memory card, camera, video camera, games, applications, bookmarks and so much more I never needed before.  

Why is it so important to have so much when the sole purpose of a phone is to make and receive calls?

 

As my Blackberry nightmare hit rock bottom, I sobbed in frustration until I became annoying and someone told me, “Don’t take your phone so seriously. No company in the world makes phones for the highly gifted; they make them for the dumb and very stupid, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to sell them. Go home, play with it and you’ll get it. Trust me, it is NOT that hard.”

 

That same night I didn’t go to sleep until I was actually able to understand and use my Blackberry. So, in conclusion I’m either very dumb or extremely smart… Don’t say anything! It’s not a rhetorical comment! 

By age 39, I’m reachable 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

 

Let’s say someone wants to get a hold of me and I don’t pick up the phone, a second later I get a text message, which will be followed by either MSN messenger or Blackberry messenger. If I don’t answer it right away – just give it a second or two - I will get an e-mail followed by a Facebook message. If none of these steps works, the caller will start from the beginning all over again, however my voice mail will take more aggressive messages like, “Why the f*&^k do you have a phone if you never pick up? I WILL pay you if you call me back! Ok, that’s it, call me.”

 

I work on the phone all day long, so talking on the phone is far from being a hobby I’m good at. 

My cell phone is on “silent mode” all day long, my routine is to simply check every so often whether or not I have messages.

 

I admit the fact that I don’t always call back, but I always reply with a text message or email to all those non-friendly messages. 

I kind of miss the simplicity of life before all this technology took over our society. Ok! Reality check  - ‘I AM getting old.'

 

Now, here’s my unreasonable dilemma - I don’t like thinking of a life disconnected from the world. Go figure…

FACEBOOK, SKYPE AND MSN – TWO WORDS FOR YOU… ‘THANK YOU’

 

FACEBOOK, SKYPE AND MSN – TWO WORDS FOR YOU… ‘THANK YOU’

(I better hurry up writing… I’m almost 40, almost time to finish this blog)

I came to the USA from Chile when I was 15 and left behind a whole bunch of friends.

Looking back, I never thought I’d loose all or most of these friends as time passed by - As I never imagined they’d come back into my life again in my 30’s.

Back in 1986, my friends used to write to me - very often - for about two years or so, but then the relationships started to vanish.

Keep in mind one thing:

A letter to Chile 25 years ago took about 11 days to get there and 11 more days for a letter to get back to me... THAT’S ALMOST AN ENTIRE FREAKING MONTH!

Making a phone call was totally out the question.  The international rate in the late 80’s was over a dollar per minute.

Years went by… I got married, got divorced and then miracle of technology happened … MSN, SKYPE and FACEBOOK came into my life bringing back all those friends I had lost for so many years.

Some of them never had children and others really went out of town in the reproduction department, some of them are divorced, very few of them are married, others never got married. 

They have built such cool lives for themselves, have such incredible stories to tell and the most amazing thing is that none of them has changed in essence; they are all the same people I remember from when we were teenagers.

I had no idea that even though we lost touch with each other, for so long, we grew up to become equally nuts, silly, hormonal, stubborn, funny and moody… They mirror everything I believed made me so different and unique.

I’m connected to a lot of them on a daily basis while working five days a week.

It's such a relief to know a good friend is only a click away to go over a melodrama, make a sarcastic comment or perhaps just to say anything that comes to mind.

Cyber-land makes Monday through Friday so much more enjoyable.

And finally... there’s no greater feeling than having a cup of coffee, lunch or dinner with a great friend via SKYPE. Nothing else erases thousands of miles the way technology does.

This time around, my lifetime friends are here to stay.

A very long time a ago someone told me, “In life you will meet a lot of people, some of them will become your friends. As time passes, you’ll recognize true friends when you drift apart and eventually come back to the same old friends who will pick the friendship as if time had never passed. Never let go of those friends, they’ll remind you who you are and who you've become. On the other hand, you will have the same effect on them.”

And that turned out to be so true!

So, FACEBOOK, SKYPE and MSN - Thank you so very much for this awesome gift in my 30’s

ONCE UPON A DECADE... Felipe Camiroaga - I was speechless when I first met you & I'm now speechless again to know you are gone.

 
 

ONCE UPON A DECADE... Felipe Camiroaga - I was speechless when I first met you & I'm now speechless again to know you are gone.

 
 
 

I was 31 and still had 4 months to plan my 32^nd birthday.

I had been able to find a job that allowed me to work from home and make plenty of money to get me out of debt, plus had the financial luck to go anywhere in the world to celebrate.

Back then Direct TV turned out to be - in my life - the greatest invention ever.

I had access to watch “TVN Chile” to keep me connected with my country, my people, my roots.

So, planning to go to Chile to grow a year older was no rocket science, however I kept postponing buying my ticket.

I called one of my best friends in Chile to have her knock some sense into me to push me to pull out my credit card to fly down south, “What birthday present do I need to get you so you can get your butt over here in September?”

My first instinct to her question was to say “nothing,” but since we were having fun with so many possibilities I came up with a goofy answer to a goofy question, “You know? In the afternoons there is a TV show in Chile and the host is “hot.” His name is Felipe something. If you can get me to have a cup of coffee with him I’ll go.”

She answered with such conviction, “Deal! Start packing already! I have no idea how to do that for you, but I’ll find a way.”

I arrived in Santiago on Septemeber 17^th, 8 days before my birthday.

We even gave my trip a theme name “ Hey! By the way - Do you know Felipe Camiroaga?”

This made us laugh like total nerds and always got the same answer from everyone we asked, “No, why?”

Of course we never told anyone the reason “why,” it was our little joke.

Two days before my birthday at a pub my friend was a little bummed out, “You know, I really thought it was going to be easier to get you to have coffee with Camiroaga. But Since I couldn’t do it, I got us tickets to go to the taping of his show.”

- “You are nuts! This was always a game! I don’t want to go to a taping of a show. I live in Los Angeles, I don’t think those things are fun whatsoever! I don’t want to do it! We always knew the coffee thing was never going to happen! We are not going anywhere! We were just saying we'd do it, but it was just for fun! not real!” I was desperately trying to reason with her.

-“Yes, we are going! There’s going to be no coffee, but at least you’ll see him in person.”

Augh!!! We went!

Finally, we reached the end of the game – or at least that’s what we thought.

The next day I remember that before coming back home I had to pay a visit to an older lady I knew.  She was some sort of an acquaintance of mine. So, I asked my friend to come with me... well, you know... she had a car, it was easier that way!

We got to this woman’s apartment. She was already waiting for us with tea and pastries on the table.

As we all spoke about a little bit of everything and nothing really important at the same time. She suddenly asked, “So why are you here in Chile this time around?”

- “She came here to celebrate her birthday and I was supposed to get her to have coffee with Felipe Camiroaga as a present, but it just didn’t happened,” a sense of honesty had taken over my friend.

I couldn’t believe she had said THAT - out loud!  This was supposed to be a stupid story between the two of us and nobody else. I was speechless and so embarrassed at the same time.

- “Why didn’t you say something to me before? I mean, you should have told me you wanted to meet him when you arrived. I’ve known him since he was a little boy, I also knew his mother. Wait let me go get his number, I’ll be back.”

My friend and I sat there with no expression on our faces staring at each other.  This woman actually knew him! And was going to give me his number!

- “Here’s his number, call him tomorrow in the afternoon so you give me a little time to let him know you’ll be calling him.” And passed me a little piece of paper with his cell phone number on it.

We left this woman’s place in complete silence; which lasted for several minutes until we got to one red light. Then my friend spoke, “This is too fucking weird and it just got too real.”

I was still in silence.

The next day my friend passed me the phone and the paper with the cell phone number on it, “Call him.”

- “You are out of your freaking mind! I can’t call him! What am I going to say to him? I can’t tell him ‘listen I want to have coffee with you, don’t care if you talk, I sort of just want to look at you.  I can’t do that!” I tried to be as rational as possible, but my friend wouldn’t give up.

- “Of course, you won’t say that! Just tell him you met with his friend yesterday, you are from the States and would love to talk to him, or that you can offer him your contacts in the entertainment business in the U.S., which is not a lie because you do know people over there. You never know, he might be interested.” She had an answer for everything and it was getting personal for her!

I gasped and called him. Of course he didn’t pick up the phone. So, I called 3 more times and that was my limit!

Three days before coming back to Los Angeles, my friend woke me up at around 8 a.m. passing me the phone and Felipe’s phone number.

- “Call him, however this time you are going to leave the same message but in English. I have the feeling he does not believe you are actually from the States. Besides, I already told you, you’re getting THAT birthday present.”

- “This is dumb! I feel like I’m stalking this poor man! I can’t do this anymore!” I didn’t want to insist on something that had obviously become preposterous.

- “Don’t be silly! You are not stalking him! You’ve only called a couple of times. Trust me, I know he’ll call back now.”

She was right, two hours later he called and agreed to meet with me at a place right by his gym.

This had officially gone from something very juvenile to something very real.

I got to the coffee place and sat by the window. The only other person there was a girl seating to my right, she had long hair, no make up on and was wearing very baggy clothes reading a magazine while having a cup of coffee. 

I waited for no more than 2 minutes and saw him walking in.  I felt nervous, but he didn’t even look at me. I realized he was moving straight over to the other girl in the coffee shop.

That poor teenager’s jaw was slowly dropping to the floor not understanding why Felipe Camiroaga was so determined walking towards her direction, then she finally dropped the magazine on the table and her arms fell to her sides not getting anything.

I took that as a my cue to say, “Felipe, I AM Paola.”

He looked confused at the two of us, apologized to her and sat at my table to quickly get up again to say “Hello” and kissed me on the cheek.

The waiter came to the table, Felipe order an espresso, looked at me and said, “you want one too, right?”

I WAS ACUALLY GETTING MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT!

I WAS SECONDS AWAY FROM HAVING COFFEE WITH FELIPE CAMIROAGA!!!

Before saying yes I placed my both hands on the table and rapidly put them under the table, I was shaking like a leaf and he noticed it, but didn’t say anything… he simply smiled.

Coffee would have made my trembling even worse, so I said, “no thanks, I’ll have a diet pepsi.”

“She’ll have a pepsi light,” he told the waiter smiling at me.

Right at that moment, I got the feeling he finally became aware - in silence and very politely - that there was no other reason to get together other than the fact that I just wanted to meet him.

It was pretty cool of him to just sit there and go along with my silliness.

He asked what I was doing in Chile, I told him I was celebrating my birthday.

- “You are a libra too! My birthday is on the 8^th next month.”

He told me how he started on TV and how long he had been doing it.

We also talked about children. I told him that my only child was a chihuahua.

- “You know dogs are not children, but I understand what you mean I have a couple of them.”

I can’t remember most of what we talked about.  It was hard to concentrate. The thoughts in my head were louder. I was dying to just tell him the truth, “listen, you are my birthday present, you don’t really need to make small talk with me, just give me one more minute to enjoy this.  That's all.”

In the middle of everything I knew I had already taken too much of his time and said:

- “I know you’ve got your TV show tonight. So, I better get going now. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

- “Likewise. How long are you staying here in Santiago?

- “I’m leaving in a matter of hours.”

- “Well, give me your number in Los Angeles,” he pulled out his cell phone to take my home and cell phone numbers.

I doubt he even took my numbers, but the gesture of just asking for it was the coolest thing ever!

I left the coffee shop with a smile on my face, and that has lasted for years.

That night my friend and I went to a pub to celebrate what we had called “mission impossible has been accomplished” and watched him on TV.

He was interviewing a girl that night, however in two different occasions called her “Paola” and she corrected him twice on the name error, her name was “Paulina.”

We thought it was hilarious!

- “A TOAST! To a man who’s so incredibly confused about a strange woman from Los Angeles who wanted to get together with him only to watch him drink his coffee! Mission accomplished! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” My friend toasted!

And that was it!

Of course Felipe and I never stayed in touch.

Although watching him on TV always made me smile and with time I learned that I had bugged a man - to meet me - having absolutely no clue on how tremendously famous he was in his country. I honestly had no idea how big his popularity was.

Why am I telling you this story when this is the sort of thing you only tell your close friends since it falls right into the “embarrassing category” of a lifetime?

On September 2, 2011 only a few days before I turn 40, Felipe Camiroaga was in an airplane crash along with 20 other people.

These people died carrying out a very noble cause. They were on their way to deliver a new school structure to an Island that had been severely devasted by a Tsunami back on February 27^th, 2010.

On September 3rd, 2011 the government’s authorities announced that there were no survivors from the plane crash.

This news has left me with an overwhelming sadness… I can’t hold back the tears.

I now realize that thousands of people have had the same sort of television crush on him as I did 8 years ago.

He’s in the hearts of so many - all over the world - specially in that long skinny country located in South America.

Once a upon a birthday - Felipe Camiroaga was my present.

Once a upon a September 2nd, 2011 - He ceased to exist in our world, but millions of people won’t cease to keep him alive in their hearts for the rest of their lives.

Felipe, wherever you are:

“Thank you for giving me - by far one - of the coolest and most unexpected birthday presents in my 30’s,

for always being so kind to your country,

for making thousands of us laugh “every single week” – month after month, year after year… For 20 years.

You will be missed…

And most of all, on a very personal level ‘- THANK YOU FOR SUCH A GOOD TALK AND OF COURSE... THE BEST DIET PEPSI EVER!!!!”

Rest in peace Felipe.

Take all of this LOVE with you on your Journey... This is a recognition to all the footprints you left behind.

You made a difference and these are your people...

        
   

 
   

     




 

 



 

 

ONCE UPON A DECADE... Money pays your bills, having a dog makes you rich!

 

ONCE UPON A DECADE...

Money pays your bills, having a dog makes you rich

We should all take the time once in a while to put some emotional weight on all or any of the unexplainable beautiful moments that unfortunately do not happen in our lives every day – At least those moments do not happen to me as often as I’d like them to. 

So, when such thing happened to me – two years ago -  I gave myself full permission to believe in magic, even if it was nothing but a mere castle in the sky. 

 

I can’t find a rational way to fully explain an enchanted moment that totally took me from my pragmatic world to a surreal state of mind or maybe I just want to stick to a story that feels so true and tangible to me.

 

As my 30’s began I was jobless, looking for a place to move back in with my mother , had very little money in my pocket to pay my basic bills, freshly divorced , had no idea where to go with my life  and the court had finally approved to give me full legal custody over my dog.

 

Yes, feel free and please do laugh!

 

You wouldn’t be the only one to say or at least politely have a mental laugh thinking, “For God’s sake, these absurd things only happen in Los Angeles” – Yes! You are right! It does only happen in movies and L.A. – However it happened to me as well.

 

So, after paying $2,000 extra dollars in the process of my divorce I did end up winning and kept my 7 year old, black and white – cow looking – Chihuahua who suffered from a chronic liver shunt since age 2.

 

I never had kids, however I had a beautiful little guy who was convinced I was his true mother.

As for me, I can only say that he was my adopted four-legged companion with a major human complex.

 

His name was Buddy, but also responded to “little guy,” “Bud,” “poroto” (it means “bean” in some South American countries) and also “Toto” (that was just a lazy shortened version of “poroto”).

 

For the first seven years of his life, him and I traveled all over the Continental U.S.A.

 

 He actually got to see more of the country than most Americans ever get to see and he loved every minute of it.

 

He was introduced to snow and was not very thrilled to walk on a very white Omaha.

 

Together we found out that 40 below degrees (with the wind chill factor) will freeze your absolute everything in Minneapolis.

 

We both stood still in the water while a Manatee swam right underneath us in Tampa.

  

He also learned to cross the street staying on my right side on a very windy day in Chicago.

 I walked him for hours in Manhattan while he gave me this look like saying to me:

 

“Really? Where do you want me poop around here? There’s no grass space in this city! Do you have any idea how hard it is to concentrate on having a decent bowel movement as these people walk super fast by me not realizing I’m trying to do my business here. This is absolutely nerve wrecking for a California dog!”

 

 

Our last trip together was four years ago to the Grand Canyon, Sedona and Las Vegas.

 

He met Paula Abdul and Brooke Shields and could have cared less about it.

Michael Jordan once rolled down his window  while I was driving through Pacific Palisades to tell me Buddy was an interesting and funny looking dog. 

In the late 90’s, one night while having pizza with some friends in Santa Monica , Jeremy Piven stopped by our table and asked for permission to pet Buddy, to only come back a few minutes later with a smile on his face telling us how cool Buddy was and asked if we’d consider selling the dog. It was a cute gesture, but Buddy was a keeper!

 

Buddy had posture, was incredibly sweet, obedient, rarely barked and was so well behaved. He was a perfect "kid" 

People liked having him over.  Even when I got my hair done, the hairdressers and the owner would expect him to come with me every 2 months for a little visit. They’d take turns carrying him around, showing him off to their clients and he played with everyone who wanted to have a little fun.

 

Whenever he got sick – because of his liver problem – my friends and family would continuously call to check on him… Whenever I got sick… Well, nobody cared as much.

 

I usually get nasty headaches when the seasons change so I tend to keep some Ibuprofen close by. My little guy related pain with that bottle of pills and he offered it to my friends whenever they came to my house in tears with boy troubles or any other sad stories - Which was always a perfect move on his behalf to give us a little something to laugh about. 

Buddy spent his lifetime around humans only, so he got to understand our language extremely well and understood more than I wanted him to understand. Well, only in English, although Spanish is my first language he never became a bilingual dog.

 

Whenever I was either down or sick he'd never leave me out of his sight. He was so delicate and sweet to me when times got rough, he'd move around very slowly kind of like trying not to bother me.

 

We lived in 6 different homes together and on June 16^th 2009, nine days before turning 15 years old, at 2 O’clock in the morning he woke up panting, his little heart was tired and couldn’t keep going. He had gotten so old and was covered with gray hair, which made him look almost entirely white.

 

As much as he had been trying to stay alive for a few months , on that morning his little body was giving up.

I held him, talked to him, told him if he was in pain it was ok to say good-bye to each other.

I had him in my arms until 6 a.m when it was time to be dropped off at the vet, I knew his time was up. It was clear he’d be going to puppy heaven on that day … And he did.

It was so painful to let him go, I couldn’t breathe.

You know? Dogs don’t live long enough!

Someone told me the day he died, “The only thing missing in this story was that you didn’t give birth to him and he never spoke, other than that he would have been your real son.”

 

A day had passed and I was paralyzed in pain. A friend sent me an email,“I think you should get another puppy. Check out this website, you’ll see dogs for sale and adoption. Look at it and think about it!”

 

None of them was Buddy, but I narrowed it down to a Chihuahua, cute as a button! She was all white with a black patch over her right eye. I immediately emailed the owner to see if “she” was still available for sale.  He quickly answered  “YES!”

 

That same evening I drove about an hour away from my place to get my new pet.

 

On my way over my mom called me, “how are you going to name the new dog?”

 

“I can’t name him Buddy. It’d be too creepy. Toto sounds like the right name.  It’s close enough to keep my little guy’s memory alive with me,”I replied not being able to hold back the tears and as she tried not to cry said, “Toto is a good idea.”

I got to the place, rang the doorbell and as I waited for someone to open the door I saw something very peculiar. The address was “925” … That’s my birthday!!! – September (9^th month) 25^th.  Being there seemed so meant to be.

 

An older man opened the door, asked me to come in and told me that there was a mistake with the dog I had picked on his website. The one I wanted had been sold early that day, but they had a male puppy that I could take with me if I wanted to.

I had driven for an hour heart-broken to find out I was not going to get the puppy I wanted!... but I was already there. So, I put my mixed feelings aside, I was not backing out and was definitely going to take this other puppy home with me.

While I waited, I sobbed telling these people about my deceased friend, then a door opened to let my new dog in and this little puppy - with very tiny legs - ran towards me as if he knew he’d be coming home with me.

 

I picked him up in complete astonishment and lost my cool. I began crying like I had just been whacked with a sledgehammer over and over and over again.  The people in the room did not know what to do or say to me.

Let me show you my perspective on what happened… Look at the next 2 pictures the one on the left is Buddy, the one on the right is Toto.

   
      THIS IS BUDDY                        THIS IS TOTO

                  THEY LOOK EXACTLY THE SAME!!!

 

It was like they were giving me a younger version of Buddy!

 

I was unable to articulate one word, my nose was open faucet, my tears were plenty to wet my t-shirt while this puppy was going out of town licking my face.

 

Now, picture that old man and his three daughters sitting right in front of me, clueless on why I was almost in a state of shock and could not explain my behavior to them.  They brought me water, tissues, and gave me plenty of time to talk.

I was the nut lady who wouldn’t leave their home!

 

Eventually I spoke, “What’s his name? I want to make the transition from his current name to what his new name will be.” One of the daughters stuttered the answer being absolutely touched by my tears, “His name is Toto. What name are you going to give him?”

 

THERE AGAIN! I LOST IT ONE MORE TIME!!

 

I kept trying to explain the weirdness of everything, but the words would not come out.

This poor family looked so confused, uncomfortable and sorry for me at the same time since I just couldn’t keep it together.

 

As I tried to calm down, blowing my nose I finally told them, “That’s the exact same name I chose for the puppy about an hour ago.” 

 

I reached for my wallet, paid them $150 dollars and finally left.

 

I cried all the way back home with Toto sleeping on my lap.

 

Once in my place, I put him on the floor and it was like he knew where he was. Toto ran up stairs straight into my room, dove into Buddy’s toy basket, dug until he got to the bottom of it and picked an old dirty white mouse, took it my bed and fell asleep with his new toy, when in reality that was Buddy’s first and most favorite toy for almost 15 years.

I barely slept that night staring at him.

 

I like believing the story in which Buddy didn’t want to leave yet.  So, he rushed his little soul to get inside a body that looked exactly like him… And somehow he managed to do it so perfectly.

 

Toto came to a home where he inherited so much love Buddy left behind for him.

Two years have passed and Toto has grown to be just like Buddy, their personalities are so freaking similar, he's sweet, funny, smart, likes to sing just like Buddy used to do it, knows toys by name, he's such a loving puppy and of course has a major human complex.

Anyways, I like my fantasy or miracle in which Buddy, my little guy, never left …

 

ONCE UPON A DECADE... The Koreans made me naughty!

 

 

ONCE UPON A TIME... The Koreans made naughty!

If you are a man reading this, do not be offended and take the following as a small window to look into the female world.

If you’re a woman reading this… I’m sure you can relate!

Any woman well into her 30’s, single and still looking can honestly say “I’ve heard it all,” but no woman can say I’ve seen “them” all.

Allow me to explain in a few words:

   Girl meets boy 

Girl likes boy 

 Girl wonders about the loving tool

 Girl will talk to her friends about her curiosity on the tool’s range 

 Girl will never make a big deal about the instrument in front of the boy 

 Girl will have access to the loving tool, but right before that moment… there will be a small personal prayer
“please, please, please let it be a nice decent size” 

If boy fits in the shinning armour attire  providing flowers, compliments, text messages, emails, unexpected cute calls and plus has a good sense of humor - The instrument will be completely shadowed by these simple actions. 

But up until that moment we’re all left in the dark only guessing   hoping for what we like and blindly keep on optimistically walking forward.

 It was only a few weeks ago when I went from the unknown into a possible privileged secret knowledge to a great laugh with my friends while having a few drinks - I don’t know how - we got into discussing how much information driver’s licenses show about us.

Most things women always lie about are right there on that little ID card very legible and accessible to just about anyone! I mean our weight, height, hair color and AGE!! Nothing can be secret anymore!

Then, one genius brain in the conversation said,  “You know? Driver’s licenses should provide information on men’s penises length, width and circumcision status. That would totally take the guessing part away. We’d look at the information on the ID card and then we know what we are getting into instead of finding out when it’s almost impossible to politely back out.”

 

We all thought it was hysterical and quite logical at the same time.

I mean, if any man goes to a club or the beach, they will see women wearing bathing suits or very tight attires giving them an accurate idea on how the entire female package might look in the nude.

Women do wonder about the tool , but have no real way to know beforehand

It basically comes down to the old saying “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

A lot of men do talk to breasts instead of looking at a woman’s face.

We “women” do not look at penises while talking to a men, we don’t even glimpse, even if we try we can’t tell! Large feet are nothing but a myth and hands… mmmmm… not an exact science either.

A few days after this silly conversation - MAGICALLY! - I saw an article on a newspaper about a recent study conducted by some Korean researchers on the length of a penis by measuring the index and ring finger.

I couldn’t keep this information just for myself, so I shared it with all of my single female friends. 

A few weeks have passed since then and I still get calls or emails asking “tell me, how does it go again? Which hand is it? What finger was it?”

One morning while having a snack I saw Kathie lee Gifford on TV saying, 

 “If you are a man look at your right hand, if your index finger is longer than your ring finger – you’re well endowed” – I was not the only one with this penile knowledge. The word is already out!!!!

Every since I read that article I have turned into a pervert, I don’t see faces I only look at hands , I have no intentions in getting involved with any of those hands, I’m sorry I mean men.  

It’s just the thought of knowing that I know something I have no business knowing to begin with. And to make it even worse, I have turned all of my single female friends into the same kind of perverts, so every few days will update each other on the "male hand market" and make silly remarks on any hand that stood out of the ordinary.

And let me tell you… We have been surprised… Very seriously surprised! 

Recently, I went to a birthday party and shared my newfound knowledge with everyone sitting at the table (men and women).

I NEVER EXPECTED SUCH REACTION!!

It was instantaneous, every male at the table either hid their right hand under the table or quickly turn their hands into a fist. Women were incredibly kind to so many wounded fragile male egos sitting at the table. None of them asked to see right hands and no man offered to show the hand for measurements or comparisons
.

Two women left their poor boyfriends alone and said, “we’ll verify that theory at home.”

Men look and judge our weight, faces, boobs and butts all the time and we tough it out, we are accustomed to it, don’t always like it, but it’s expected and at this age life as well as experience have taught us to brush it off and move on.

I get the feeling men are not quite fond of this new research, however all the women I know are very thankful to the Koreans.  Even if it is not true, we thank them for giving us a good laugh.

The day after the party I got a call from one of the men at the gathering to tell me that right after I left, everyone gossiped about me and the men said they hadn’t recognized me since I had gained so much weight.

It is true. I have put on a few pounds after my accident, nevertheless my ego felt a pinch anyway and like a teenager I ran to my mom sort of expecting her to feel my pain  , but no! she busted out laughing trying to keep it straight
and then started giving me a speech just like when I was a kid, “You had an accident and YES you have gained some weight, however you will loose all those extra pounds, but all those guys will always have a little wiener.”  
 
 
Amazing! My mother still tries to soothe me by using the same words she used on me when I was 12 years old, of course on a completely different subject, but my mom hasn’t changed her advice techniques on me at age 39!

This might be a totally pathetic reaction on my behalf or an extremely funny teaching as I say farewell to my 30’s

Lesson learned:

Boys will be boys 
Egos won’t cease to be fragile 
 curiosity might kill ONE cat, but you can’t kill the entire feline world.

 

 
 
Go ahead! 

Keep looking! 

 I’m looking too!

 Bye bye for now... Be back soon!

ONCE UPON A DECADE... I Taw a Putty Tat.

 

ONCE UPON A DECADE... I taw a putty tat.

    These kitties are cute, aren't they? ...

Then, How come they have such a bad reputation? or better yet, why do they give us such a bad reputation?

Just by saying out loud “I have a cat” manipulates people’s opinion about anyone- specially if you're over 30 years old and still single... Ouch!             

It's not so easy to spit it out and say I have a cat, so what? 

For these past two years, I've noticed that this confession will make some people’s faces twitch.  I can actually tell how their brains try to re-arrange the pre-conceived perception of me since the first second they learn I own a cat. I can’t help it, but this reaction makes me laugh and then I get defensive about it, sort of like having to apologize for my choice of pet. So the speech begins...

 With or without a cat I'm a hormonal being not neurotic - it's not the same thing, similar, but never the same.

 I'm well aware this little four-legged creature intensifies my single status, but I must be fair,  I have been legally single for the past 9 years “I can't blame my cat for it.”

 
 Etc... etc... etc... Having a cat will entitled you to a massive long list to ultimately characterize your personality... And it's not always good!

In my case, there's a story why I share my roof with a cat and the plot is so unexpected that it has actually helped reinstating cats in a world so full of people not so fond of them. Even if it only lasts for a little while it sure helps the feline world. 

I promise you, it is impossible not to fall in love with “Tica.”  (This is "she").

Back in November of 2008, a few days before Thanksgiving, my mom called me in tears telling me that she had been feeding a stray cat for a few months and could not stand the thought of knowing that this poor little guy was headed for the miserable winter that was already creeping up on us here in Southern California.

I told her that if she took the cat to the vet to be 100% positively sure the animal was healthy and had all the needed vaccines I’d keep the animal all through the winter - I seriously meant only until the end of the cold weather.

The kitty was healthy and was not a "he," we found out it was a “she.”
 

I never ever had a cat before. I had always been more a "dog" person. My first impression of Tica was “what a weird critter!”  She took asylum under my bed. Every time I tried to pick her up - to help the process of becoming more acquainted with one another - she would run away as if the devil was chasing her.  In reality, to be honest I kept my distance, I didn’t trust her very much and was a little bit afraid of her.  So, I did the mentally healthy thing to do: I placed a plate with food, another one with water under my bed and opted to ignore her since I barely got to see her anyway.

 Back then at the same time, I also had a 15-year-old dog that was quickly approaching the end of his life.  Somehow "Tica” knew it.  The presence of my old dog was what finally made her come out from under my bed and decided to spend her time laying down - day and night - right next to my little dog as he rested.

When my little old guy -“Buddy”  - used to feel ill, he'd go to the bathroom and stay there until he felt better. Tica wouldn't let him out of her sight, she’d follow him and wait for him to come out of the bathroom.

Buddy was also almost blind - I have no idea how the cat knew it, but she would walk him back to bed and then lay down by his side again.

The cat's only interaction at home was with my dog. 

She continued running away from me, holding her was not doable at all - although whenever I did get a hold of her she never bit me or scratched me.

For someone who's used to having dogs only it's such a martian concept, illogical and flat out stupid not having the least tad of control over a pet.  You give a dog a piece of bread and the animal will be your best friend forever and ever and ever and ever.  You call a dog and the dog comes to you. That's the way a human/animal relationship should always work, right? - NO! That philosophy ends as soon as you have a cat and learn the hard way that you ‘the human’ must earn the cat's trust and that's is so darn difficult to accomplish.

 

One evening with plenty of free time on my hands I couldn't help myself from observing how sweet this little critter was towards my very old four-legged friend. She was so delicate around him.  She'd spend long minutes at a time kneading on his back until he was asleep. It was so obvious he loved those little kitty back massages and I was so thankful to her for that.

So, I started liking her - a lot!

Her presence at home started being more noticeable as the days passed by, I mean I started to really “see her” with more attention than usual and was sadly surprised... Tica is not a normal cat, she suffers from a mental delay and that was also being more and more obvious as time went by.  

** If the closet door was open and she wanted to jump in, the poor little thing would totally miscalculate and bounce off the wall instead of going inside the wide open space.

**  Going up and down the stairs she'd trip over the steps and as you well know gravity has no mercy on anyone and/or anything... That poor cat rolled down the stairs countless times.

** There were moments when she was fine and all of a sudden she'd get crossed eye, like being lost in time and space, letting her tongue hang out to the side of her mouth.. All the lights were on, but there was no one home!

** She often had moments when she'd be walking to abruptly stop and stare at nothing for several minutes at a time.  I made loud noises right next to her and Nothing! Not even a reaction to the sounds!

**  When moving objects from side to side she couldn't follow along. She had a hard time following things with her eyes and/or head.

I honestly thought she was deaf, but when she was out of that weird trance she'd hear everything perfectly fine.

 

On June 16, 2009 - Buddy - my little dog died.

On June 18, I got a new puppy.  That was the day Tica's life changed forever!

In the beginning the poor cat - without her very old friend - life was not so peaceful anymore and had no idea how to relate to this never stopping/always jumping electric tick – a puppy without an off button.

 

She never expected or was ready to find out the hard way that this little guy was determined that the two of them would become best friends. Needless to say... he won her friendship!
 

Humans who suffer from any type mental retardation issues get therapy. Tica got hers from a puppy and is now an almost normal cat. 

The electric tick jumps on her without any notice - This forces her work on her reflexes. He licks her ears  and pulls her tail - she has had no choice but to react little by little with slow movements.

Nevertheless when the puppy runs out of battery he lets himself fall on her to take a nap. When that happens I can hear her sigh and she also takes a nap. 

Tica's recovery has been extremely noticeable since Toto became part of her life. 
 

 

Toto - the new dog - has taught her to play.  Although she's still on the slow side, at least she's not bouncing off the walls anymore and that alone is a MAJOR step! (Click here if you'd like to see them in action) Download Ticatoto

Every morning Tica washes her friend before starting the new day. Right after that… madness gets loose, which usually lasts for about a half an hour of chasing each other all over the place. 

When she gets scared she hides behind the dog. She might be slow, but not dumb to know he's her best body guard!

 

Nowadays if I want her to come I just snap my fingers and Tica runs to me. I pick her up whenever I want to and she follows me wherever I go.  Even in the middle of the night when I go to the bathroom she walks right behind me, waits for me at the door and then walks me back to my bed. 

There are mornings when I wake up and realizeTica is purring and staring at me as if she were waiting for me to open my eyes to pet her before the hyper electric tick wakes up and hell breaks loose.

Tica doesn't meow, very rarely she will sort of whisper a tiny sound if I get home very late at night.  Whenever I go down to the kitchen and the dog comes along she makes a super loud noise - apparentely she doesn't like being left alone. On the other hand, that's Toto's cue to run to her rescue to keep her company. 

Now she's totally able to slowly follow objects when moved from side to side, no doubt it's still hard for her, but she likes trying and will move her paw back and forth to continue playing.  When it becomes too overwhelming she falls into those odd trances.  

But that is a well-known process around here and we have learned to overcome such lapses. I simply pick her up, kiss her little forehead, Toto comes to the rescue licking her ears, she wakes up and off the go chasing each other!

And this is why I have a cat at the end of my 30's.

Now, after this story...

How could anyone dislike my Tica?

After listening to this story for the first time, many have left aside the fact that I own a cat since the tale mentions "two dogs," however the next inevitable question is, "What kind of dog was your first dog?" 

The answer is: "A Chihuahua," the reaction is just as bad as having said the first time around I have a cat.

The second dog gives a little hope to redeem my character, but No! The second dog is also a “chihuahua.” 

The story of my two “chihuahuas” is super special and unsual, however let's leave that for another day. 

For now, my critters and I wish you a wonderful day. Be back soon!

ONCE UPON A DECADE... I stood in front of the revolving door.

 
ONCE UPON A DECADE... I stood in front of the revolving door.

Most women in their 20's learn and become experts dancing and carrying on perfect choreographies  to circulate in the land of the singles.  I took my first baby steps during my early 30's - Plus, I mustn't forget about my astigmatism and my natural inevitable absent-mindedness lapses - That's just the way I go through life.

The art of flirting is and has been a lost battle for me , I'm blind as a bat – Every object at a distance to me is nothing but a blurry mush.

At my 39 years of age I have already made peace being Mr. Magoo's female version  . For this reason alone I simply refuse to get all flirty when going out , for all I know I could be smiling at a "something”, I mean “a tree, light post, a chair, a door and /or hundreds of other things.”

So, if at any time - during these past 9 years - if a guy didn't speak or speaks to me within my visible square footage... Unfortunately, I never met him or will never ever meet him either.

Little by little I did learn a few steps in this silly singlehood dance.  I also became skilled using the dialect to be spoken and that's how I began to leave the door open after considering the possibility to meet someone meaningful in my life, however the time between meeting the one that makes the trees look greener and the sky bluer, there's a waiting period standing in front of a revolving door. 

Just like many other women - at least I want to believe I'm not the only one with such luck - I stood in front of that door for some time and saw a parade of guys who never became anything significant in my life  , but for the past 9 years they have all left me a priceless gift.... a whole bunch of funny anecdotes to remember them by. 
 

**The dream of many women on this planet– I believe of all ages too - is to meet someone as close as being a prince, king or at least to have some sort of a royalty title right before his first name. 

     

In my early 30’s a friend introduced me to a young man who was the son of someone from somewhere in Europe who had such royalty title. 

Physically speaking he was not my type at all, but the curiosity to meet him was killing me.  This had never happened to me before, plus there was nothing to loose by just meeting the guy.

His parents had bought him a 3 story house with an Ocean view while his stay here in Southern California, he also received a monthly amount of money to cover his personal expenses, schooling and also something extra for whatever he wanted to do.

Talking to him was like entering into the Twilight Zone.  I sat down over looking the ocean and began to listen to his story and what I totally didn't expect... Without even knowing me he started complaining about not making ends meet with the money he was getting every month. I interrupted his monologue by suggesting looking for a job - Silly me! - It never occurred to me that by doing so it would totally interfere with his classes and his morning boat trips with his dog.

My suggestions became dumber by the second. I actually told him a little about my daily routine so he'd have a better perspective on life and realize how lucky he was to have it so easy.  Five minutes into my profound monologue, as I was feeling the cool ocean breeze on my face I realized he had actually left me there alone talking to myself overlooking the Pacific Ocean . After that day I never saw him again...

** I met a guy super sweet and kind of cute. We started dating and one day he showed up at my place with pizza. As we were eating the TV was on, there was documentary about the Devil. I noticed my date stopped talking to me and got very involved in the documentary. He became so hypnotized by the TV he was barely chewing his food.  
I thought it was interesting to see him so concentrated on the subject. I didn't chew on my thoughts and spitted out the one million dollar question. , “You believe in the devil!?”

He didn't even think twice and answered with an admirable conviction while he slowly chewed a piece of pizza , “Yes!”

Alright, I know I should have stopped my questioning, but I really wanted more redundant questions to be answered, “Really!? You really believe in the Devil?  The man in red? The one with the tail and the horns?”

For the first time he took his eyes off the TV set, of course still eating pizza , “Yes, that one.”

The answered killed the romanticism we had going.

It freaked me out to think that by the time we got to Christmas I'd have to find out the hard way that this 38 year old man was also a true believer in Santa Claus.

** During this past decade I met a guy who from date #1 would pick me up late, very, very late. Don't take me wrong, I don't mean five or ten minutes late, he'd show up like nothing had happened an hour and sometimes two hours late. By the third week I decided to stop seeing him anymore.

After I told him the appropriate "good-bye, it was nice to me you, but really, no thanks," he replaced his bedroom by his car parked right outside my house.His writing skills would surface during the wee hours and left me notes by my front door.

By the fourth night I saw him sleeping in his car - right in front of my house - I became a bit concerned.  You see as far as I'm concerned most of the people I know usually end their days by going to sleep in a bed...  do you?

That night I took a deep breath and felt confident enough to go out to street and knocked on his window  

As he was trying to wake up rubbing his eyes, I did my best to explain to him that from where I was standing this whole sleeping arrangement in front of my place looked like an odd behavior, specially for a forty-some year old man   and that I was  distressed about the entire situation.

He didn't say a word , started his car and drove away.  Never heard a word from him again.

Cupid missed again.

** Another platonic moment - that ended in a split of second - was with a cute guy I had met through a friend of mine at a party.  One night he called me around 11 p.m., I took the call and briefly told him I had had a very long day and was tired... Well, I basically said that I had just answered the phone to say good night to him since "Morpheus" was already impatiently awaiting for me to fall asleep.

That last comment made him stutter, “Bu...B...But I thought you were single, I had no idea you had a boyfriend. I'm so sorry for calling so late and interrupting.”

 
I thought it was cute, I didn't mean to sound like a wise ass at all.  So, I tried to quickly fix the misunderstanding, "I don't have a boyfriend. Morpheus in Greek mythology is the God of Sleep."

My late night caller got offended by what I had said and raised the tone of his voice, “Is there a high IQ requirement to be with you?”....  And hung up on me!   He obviously never called me again.

** One of my jewels and by far the anectdote that I find the most absurd incident that happened to me in my 30s was when  a friend of my aunt who talked to me about his nephew everytime I saw her.  She'd go on for ever on telling me what a "perfect" match he was for me.

Finally, one day I gave in and I told her he could call my cell phone so we could talk and take it from there.

When he called me I got the feeling that I was talking to a very nice man and since we hit it off on the phone he invited me and I accepted to go out for dinner that same evening. I suggested going to a low key place, nothing fancy, but NO SIR!  The nephew insisted on taking me to one of the most expensive places here in Los Angeles.

The nephew came to my place to pick me up, at a first glance - I know it sounds shallow - I felt no attraction whatsoever.  So, I figured "let's go eat."  There was still a good chance he could be a potential friend.

The first half hour at the restaurant he remained silent, however he was getting loaded on one Sake after another, and another and another one... And then finally he spoke... non stop  
Here's where the story starts getting fun...

The first words to come out of his mouth were directed to the waiter.  The nephew ordered just about everything listed on the menu. More and more food came to the table and the alcohol level started to bubble up inside him.   He grabbed my hand and began listing one by one all the many reasons why we were perfect for each other, therefore we belonged together.

 This date was not going well at all...

Out of nowhere he insisted on me "sharing with him” the number of men I had been involved with in my entire life...

Allow me a brief interruption. Up until this moment please keep in mind this was my very first time meeting this man, ever! In my life! 

OK. Back to the story...

After his naughty question - his brain must have sent him a message to stop him from going into any forbidden territories.  So, this man - very clumsily - reached over the table extending his arm placing his index finger over my lips, “Silence, don't say a ward, your past doesn't concern me.”

I didn't want to loose my cool, but I had little to no options to escape from there. The restaurant was located on top of a hill, there were no taxi cabs around and my home was about 40 minutes away. 

The waiter came to the table offering a wide selection of desserts. The nephew order two different desserts "to share." As the plates arrived to the table he put his hand on mine as an act of sweetness  - I can only imagine - and with the other one he planned on feeding me.  If I didn't want him to touch me, can you imagine how I felt as he tried to feed me like a toddler?

The guy might have been totally hopeless on a first date, however he was smart enough to see/feel/confront my discomfort at the table. 

Please be ready here comes the infamous comment of the evening. Although, this happened a couple of years ago, and now as I look back I realized how mad I was, I actually believe smoke did come out of my ears - Nowadays for some twisted reason it makes me laugh  , at the same time every time I mention this story my aunt can't help herself from feeling embarrassed and my mother does nothing but cover her face with both hands and then begs me to stop telling this story to anyone for as long as she's alive.

Continuing ...

The nephew stopped trying to feed me dessert to notify me of something significant and relevant to the occasion, “you don't have a thing to worry, I'm not going to screw you tonight”

(Screw was not the precise word he used LOL he was  way more vulgar when choosing the verb, but out of respect for my mom and aunt I will just leave it at that).

In my life I've heard and seen a lot of things, but such rudness definitely took me by surprise    The only coherent reaction I was able  utter was  "Pardon me?"  - While in my head I heard several voices questioning what had just happened, “What!? What did he just say? Why me!?  Seriously, is he really talking to me? Who does this ass think he is?”       
                                                                      

The nephew actually had thought of an answer to my confusion, “I know your aunt, my aunt knows my family, I have way too many eyes on me tonight.”

And then my tolerance dropped to zero and asked him to take me home   My request pissed off.  What a shocker!

He called the waiter demanding his check immediately.  That poor waiter dropped his check for almost $300 dollars on the table.

 

My goal was to get home safe, so I kept quiet to avoid getting him more upset as he paid. He was well aware he had spent a lot of money for nothing.                  

 As soon as we got in his car he turned the music as loud as it could possibly be and drove me home faster than speed of light.

The nephew parked his car only a few steps away from my front door and just as I thought the show was over he reclined his driver's seat down and dropped on me this "I'm super hot" attitude  and spoke again, “I leave the ball on your side of the court. I will not call you, look for you, I 'm not the kind of guy to say sweet poetic things, I don't do flowers. I will wait for your phone call if you are interested in having a relationship with me.”

I jumped out of the car and ran to my house, as I opened my door I heard the screeching tires breaking the silence in my neighborhood. The nephew was finally out of my life.

I was home safe and alive .  No more than 10 minutes had passed by and my cell phone rang. I didn't answer it, but I heard the message, "I'd love it if we could go out again sometime soon." I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT!

The next day... he called again and continued calling until I answered, "listen, it's late, I'm in bed already and ready to sleep. We'll talk another day."

“When will you call me?,” he kept insisting like it was a matter of negotiation.

“Any other day, but not today. I have to go to sleep. Bye.” I got off the phone without even waiting to hear what he was going to say next.

One week! He called an entire week!  I never answered any of his calls or messages... Is it necessary to even mention that I never saw him again? 

After spending long periods of time standing in front of the revolving door I started getting worried about meeting someone new again, but in all honestly I wanted to see with my own eyes how far this silliness could be stretched along my path.

I'm almost 40 and no expert when it comes down to dating.  Before going on a date I beg to all the little angels that are Cupid's best friends to never allow a guy to eat a meal with his mouth open, use his fingers as utensils on his plate, get loaded on me, spend a lot of money on a dinner just to show off... But as soon as I'm done making my requests outloud, I change my mind and all I ask in case I don't like the guy is only a little something to indulge my sense of humor.

The other side of the coin is that I'm not perfect in any way shape or form, I'm set in my own ways, I'm hormonal, very independent, so that leads me to believe that I might be someone's funny story somewhere out there in the world.

These are the stories that make meeting someone special so rare and unique.  You know, the kind of guy you meet when you least expect it. A poor creature who's just as disillusioned in the romance department as you have been for a while.  He speaks, makes you laugh and then your world is turned upside down! You do a reality check and realize that is best to let the guard down, love, be loved "one more time,”   We all know how it goes... It's so incredibly complicated yet so much fun.

Anyways, I'm done with my story for today. This time I say good-bye with no boyfriend... Let's see who's the next "prince in shinning armor" candidate or if I get stuck looking over at the revolving door which will giving me plenty of stories to tell when it's time to say so long to my 40's.

ONCE UPON A DECADE... I MOMENTARILY GOT STUCK ON NOTHING

ONCE UPON A TIME ... I MOMENTARILY GOT STUCK ON NOTHING



It has been a long time since I failed to keep my personal commitment to summarize my entire 30’s until I get to be 40.

There’s very little time left for my next birthday and I totally got stuck on a mere nothingness.

I don’t want to blame my accident for brain farting over the past couple of weeks, however... it’s been a pain in the butt to digest, process and realistically accept my temporary disability, plus the pain is so darn inconvenient.

Apparently, 19 screws and 3 titanium plates have blocked a part of my brain not letting my brain cells produce full sentences to complete an idea or thought to then ask my 10 fingers for permission and cooperation to reproduce everything in writing.

It was only a couple of days ago that for the very first time – since the accident – I was able to blow-dry my hair by “myself!” It does sound like such a simple task, but for me it was a major event that literally made jump up in the air and scream “YAY!” 

 

I’m aware I’m not permanently disabled, didn't have a stroke or lost an extremity, however when an accident happens you can never be ready for the unexpected... Everything changes! I see me differently now when I look in the mirror, I react differently to my surroundings. I walk and move so slow, not so much for my coccyx or arm, I’ve actually developed a goofy fear to trip over something or simply fall again. I’m a bit paranoid to re-confirm that gravity is not just a myth.

The thought of falling down generates the following question, “What body part would I use to break my fall?”

My imagination is bigger than any logic, I immediately see me flat on the floor with no teeth. Sorry for sounding so pessimistic, but up until this past week I hadn’t been out much and watched a lot of TV until  gave me a nightmare, I dreamt I had had an accident and my teeth needed to be fixed using wood… which made me look just like George Washington. I can’t bear the thought of me with only one functioning arm and not being able to eat corn.

These past couple of months I’ve isolated myself quite a bit, my whole life changed in a blink of a second. My Social life and people around me have also been affected my accident too.

Going out to public places means wearing my orthopedic paraphernalia, which by the way works like “magic!” People stay away from me, but at the same time they keep an eye on me willing to help out with whatever I might need.

 If ever you happen to feel a bit on the lazy side, go ahead and wear an orthopedic thingy and go out.  You’ll be amazed to see how nice can be to you, they open doors for you, let you go first in the supermarket line, offer their help, etc…

I think my auto-isolation has something to do with a very annoying condition better known as “vanity.” 

If you think I’m talking about the scar on the back of my arm, or because the swelling is gone and now the titanium plates and screws are visible through the skin making the area look a bit on the grayish side... Nop! Not at all!  Knowing me - I’m surprised too! But I truly don’t have any aesthetic issues with that, even though the scar is not at all small or invisible.

My drama is all about fixing myself up, I have super long hair and I have been refusing to face the fact that I need to cut it shorter.

In order to fix my hair I need both hands and it hasn’t been easy to hold the weight of the hair dryer with my left hand.

Up until recently I’ve kept my hair up in a “pony tail” – my latest and most precious pride – since it took several “ouch-ouch-ouch” and plenty of practice to be able to pull my hair up without anyone’s help.

Getting dressed – this is the second attack to my vanity. I wear nothing but work-out clothing, however I do also wear my orthopedic device, I’m not trying to mislead anyone giving the impression that I the most athletic person on the face of the earth.

I don’t dress up for three reasons:

1. I gained weight again and not all of my clothes fit so easily anymore.
2. Zipping up and down is not an easy task yet.
3. Wearing high heels increments my so called phobia to fall flat on the ground.

 

**Funny FYI: “Wearing sporty clothes for mere comfort has lead no one to ask if I had an accident by doing sports. Apparently I give the impression to be a bad driver.  90% of people has asked me if I injured myself in car accident.”

A few days ago I got an email promoting Fen Shui classes.  The introduction to it explained that this is an ancient Chinese system of aesthetics believed to use the laws of both Heaven and Earth to help one improve life by receiving positive.  And suddenly - It hit me! I simply need to “fen shui” this to my favor... What if I use the metal element to my favor? I mean laying down with my head facing West and my metallic arm pointing to the North... Or something like that... Anyways, this past week I finally got my act together:

** I went back to the gym.  This was the first step to get back in shape and think straight.

** I started looking again for better job alternatives to increase my current income.

** I finally gave in, I had that very much needed haircut, ONLY A LITTLE BIT! If the mountain won't come to Mohammed… Paola gets a haircut.

** And since I’m on a roll here... something great happened to me, something I hadn’t felt in months “I wanna start writing again!”

No funky moods last forever and nobody is foolish enough to keep it up for an eternity… ;)

 

 

ONCE UPON A DECADE.. Money is what really matters... Health comes and goes ;)

ONCE UPON A DECADE.. Money is what really matters... Health comes and goes ;)
 

I've spent the last few weeks going to therapy trying to regain mobility in my left arm. To stretch it - it’s almost as complicated as reading a book with gloves and to bend it .... Phew! It's definitely easier to make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear.

It’s a blessing we don’t use our elbows to scratch itchy eyes, otherwise it’d be a freaking problem for me!
Just so you don’t think I’m exaggerating, allow me to introduce you to my arm and the number I did to it:

 




Last week while the therapist stretched and bent my arm I started wondering if I could compare this to any other difficult episode in my life during my 30's. The first thing that came to mind was when the economy went downhill for me.

Here in the U.S. about 3 years ago a recession hit us so hard it totally fractured my entire financial structure ... which is still under intensive care.

Until February 2007, I had enjoyed a fairly comfortable and fun life, vacationing twice a year, I’d take myself out shopping on Sundays. Don’t take me wrong, I didn’t lead an extravagant life, but I was not loosing sleeping over money.

From one day to another and without any warning, the company I had been working for several years - I am an independent contractor - was bought over by another entity which decided that my salary as well as my other colleagues had to be reduced by a 20%.

I had saved just enough money to hold me for a couple of months until I eventually graduated from (Journalism).
So, as a precaution, I reduced all of my unnecessary spendings.
*** Did you know how useful candles are in the winter? (heat and light)


Then gas prices went off the roof and that finally put the cherry on top of my financial torture.

Going out for a ride turned out to be a luxury, therefore my little outings were kept down to a minimum and only when necessary.

Los Angeles is such a big city to get from point A to point B, so by bicycle was not an option – I didn’t have one and was not about to purchase one.  Walking meant buying a lot more shoes – money I didn’t have… Honestly, I must admit my laziness; deep inside I didn’t like going back to such an archaic way of transportation.


Supermarkets right away raised their prices to absolutely EVERYTHING! I spent long hours in different stores trying to understand things that still don’t get,  
 for example:

1.- EGGS: In 2007 a dozen of eggs were about a dollar and a few cents, one year later twelve eggs were sold for over five dollars.
Funny enough, eggs seemed to have gotten smaller as well, here is my question -----> How do farmers know which chickens have the tightest out going exit that lay such tiny little itsy-bitsy eggs? Or do hens with narrow outlets lay eggs more often?


2 .- MILK: I didn’t even notice when a gallon of milk rose from $ 2 dollars to nearly $ 6 dollars. I had no choice, but to conclude that cows were charging by the touch of an udder.
I even wondered if cows were being abused under the leadership of a bull pimp, wisely taking advantage of the situation by doing the math ... Four teats per cow, that's a fortune!
3 .- Rice and pasta: These were the first products to vanish from the markets, however not many people really thought this through.  Eating these products every day for a prolonged time - without the needed amount of fiber - the recession was just about to leave a lot of people feeling like they were giving birth to bricks with each trip the bathroom.


That year, I went to a friend’s house in Las Vegas to celebrate my birthday to forget and put behind my 2007 slump.

 

On the morning of September 25th, my birthday to be more specific, my friend and I were having breakfast planning where to go to celebrate my birthday that night. Right at the moment, I got a call on my cell - my employer was calling me to announce another salary reduction, it was going  down another 25%.


My friend looked at me without blinking, trying to figure out what was going on. As I ended my call I dropped the phone and I was not able to support the weight of my own body falling down on my knees crying. I could actually see myself living under a bridge and couldn’t breathe. As soon as I got a little air I said, "I think I’m going to puke."
My friend grabbed me and rushed me to her bathroom placing my face right over the toilet, with one hand she held my hair and with the other she rubbed my back.
In the middle of my tears, the silence and my runny nose out of nervousness I couldn’t stop laughing.
"Did you freak out about me puking on your carpet?" I asked hearing my own echo coming out from the the white porcelain monster.

"Boy! You’re dumb!" she replied as she kept rubbing my back.

This is by far one of the most touching moments I shared with a friend in my 30's, although I’m quite aware it sounds so very disgusting from the outside… It’s one of those “you had to be there” kind of moments.

Anyway, so far I'm still in the process of recovering from the recession that seems endless - to say the least.

Before my accident I figured a way to have seven different employers to make ends meet at the end of the each month. AH! And my UCLA Journalism diploma has become the most expensive piece of paper I have ever paid in my life and never served me with any monetary purposes.

Well, at least I can proudly say I am a UCLA graduate.

During my 30’s I’ve learned that everything has its cycle... Now, I’d like someone to explain to me the following:

What’s the circumference’s size of a cycle so someone can be financially relaxed?

While I wait for cycle to end I’ll continue my therapy trying to bend and stretch my titanium arm.  I’ll be back soon…