Sobreviviendo El Verano

El año pasado esta madre pasó el verano en Chicureo, Chile, error. Aunque tenía sus hijos en campamento por unas horas cada día no bastaba para la Madre. La Madre estaba eternamente cansada y sudada. La Madre soñaba con robarle la manguera a un bombero y pegárselo a su hogar para eliminar de una vez la Atacama, perdón el polvo y refrescarse.
La Madre se rindió ante la falsa esperanza de mantener un aspecto limpio con su auto. La Madre decidió que esa capa de polvo servía como un carnet identificándola como verdadera residente de Chicureo. Todo auto limpio era un impostor, un Santiaguino “escapándose” de la ciudad por el día.
Los malditos bichos: Escorpiones, grillos, hormigas, arañas de rincón, todos igual se refugiaron del calor en su hogar. Fumigar era inútil ya que el calor la obligaba a abrir su puertas. La Madre aprendió a convivir con las criaturas . El marido le preguntó si tenía algún remedio para los bichos y la Madre le contestó “Sí, se llama ‘ invierno ‘ “.
La Madre intentó refugiarse en el aire climatizado de sus negocios favoritos, pero los encontraba cerrados, “De vacaciones”. Un día mientras que esperaba que un muro de polvo cruzara la calle anunció a lo Roberto Durán “¡No más!”
Este verano renunció su fidelidad a Chicureo , empacó sus maletas y se fue con otro…. la playa. La playa se encargó de cansar, digo, entretener a sus hijos. La playa la refrescaba con su agua fresca y brisa constante. El polvo y los bichos se quedaron atrás esperándola… hasta otoño.

In Search of “Medium”

fatjeans They called me Miss Piggy as a child and it was not as a term of endearment. I was the chubby kid and now the chubby adult who strategically disguises it behind the right clothing. I make an effort to live a healthy lifestyle however I will not deny myself the good stuff. Keep this in mind whilst I inform you that as per my recent efforts to stockpile, ahem, shop, for my return trip to oh so expensive Chile I found that I am officially “small” now. Those of you who know me are choking on something at this point.
I would first like to thank the lovely people of the Old Navy line of clothing for fast tracking my size from what in the high-end clothing industry is called a size 12 to an ego boosting 4. Coming in a close second are the people who produce Disney attire at the theme parks. As per the employees they stopped selling a size “small” a “while back” leaving me with a “medium” sized t-shirt that will fit on me like a dress much like the starving African child featured in We Are The World Video.
And oh yes, it is my duty as a citizen of these fine United States to fill in the ample space awarded to me by these newfound sizes. As I write this my circulation is being cut off at the waist by jeans purchased in Chile. They must have shrunk in the drier, after all I am still a medium, no wait, I am, by golly a “small”.



” Oh my God mom that micro nearly took your head off! ”  Yep, now keep running. Those were my great maternal words of wisdom.  I took Jr. on his first long run. Well not long by the average runner’s definition but hey, average is just so typical. (Insert mental rolling of the eyes here.)  Our trek involved a combination of trails, sidewalks and claustrophobic streets with, somehow, two-way traffic.  Popcorn, who based on her looks has got to be the product of a long line of street dogs was the greater source of anxiety on this run.  She escaped from home to follow us, the ever ignorant puppy who reminds me of every Chilean pedestrian I’ve almost ever killed.  She plodded down the center of the street and when honked at by oncoming vehicles or called to safety by desperate owners she would just pause, turn and give the driver a look.

It took me a while to get used to that look here.  I used to drive in Miami, FL which means I am used to experiencing hostile drivers and for that matter pedestrians who rightfully fear for their lives.  Not here though.  Here the pedestrians just go for it the way toddlers do, which is why they have leashes for toddlers. You know the ones that pose as adorable back packs in animal shapes? Say what you want about those terrible parents who have their tiny ones on a leash, but I for one kept my kids alive that way. Well back then at least.  No leash for Jr or the puppy today.

I have gotten to the point with Jr. where my advice starts getting filed in the “Whatever”compartment of his tween brain.  So I figure a little reality check was in order.  That little street didn’t leave much space to side step the traffic so it was imperative that he follow mom’s strategic choreography and follow he did… unlike a certain puppy.  “Popcorn has a death wish! ” cried Jr.  No, Popcorn lives in ignorant bliss and apparently was able to reenact every possible (successful) play from Frogger.  When we returned we solemnly swore to lock-up puppy safely prior to our next run.  Then I turned on my computer to find that some families of Chilean ultra marathoners wish they had done the same today.