How to Beat Walmart at their Own Game

So, here I am at Walmart getting ready to buy some detergent, dryer sheets and get coins to do my laundry ... but wait.  Let me not get ahead of myself, let me start at the beginning.

For the last 3 days, Israel and I have been staying at the Courtyard Marriott Hotel, on Congress, in Boynton Beach, where their motto is "wandering encouraged" and I felt as if I have arrived at home.  Their hospitality is amazing and their service more so.  We only intended to spend one night, since we are transitioning, relocating and trying to purchase a home.  Oh yes, we are seriously involved.  :)

As I am heading out trying to catch a few errands, while allowing Israel to get a few extra minutes of well deserved sleep; I ask the attendant about Laundry Services.  At least that is what I thought I was asking.  He interpreted my question as "where is the Laundry Room" and instructed me to the "Laundry Room" where you can do your own Laundry!!!   I know, I am getting excited about Laundry!!!!  :)

Anyway, here is the kicker and the reason for this blog.  So, I run, no drive to Walmart on Old Boynton Road, and get a few things along with Detergent, ect., ect. ect.   No cashiers.  Only the automatic self serving machines.  Which is fine, only I needed change for the washing machines.

I see whom looked like a Floor Manager and asked,  "I don't mind using these machines, but I also need change to do laundry.  Can you help me with that?"

To which she replied, "we don't give change."  I was like, "go figure.  It couldn't have been that easy. " And then bang, it hit me like a lighting bolt.  I answered, "You know what?  There is more than one way to skin a cat!"  "I will pay each item individually and get my change like that!!!"

And that is what I did.  And that is how I got my change.  Without going crazy, losing my temper nor going to jail.

The End.

If Life were Perfect

If life were perfect,
I would have married a Preacher Man
Instead I married a Fast Talker
Kind of like the same thing, eh?

If life were perfect,
I would have caught on to your lies quicker
but youth was on my side
and you counted on that, didn't cha?

If life were perfect,
My Treasure Box would have contained one more
I got a Rock
And a King
And a Jack
You would have been my turn to name
Your name would have been something strong and meaningful.

If a boy, named after a Prophet perhaps.
If a girl, maybe Ruth or Esther,  or Deborah the Female Warrior.

If life were perfect,
a 31st Anniversary would have been
around the corner

Yet, God is merciful
And instead of 4, he gave me 3
and for that missing child
I have many, yes, many that call me Mom.

Yet, God is even more merciful
That everything is brand new
And a New Love is Blossoming around the corner
And the Preacher Man myth
Might still come true.

The journey, my
"if life were perfect
has turned into".
I am so happy with my life as it is today
and my happily ever after
might happen just yet.

For David, my son, the King.

His Daughter

Sometimes I forget You are His Daughter.
I look at Dreamy Brown liquid, so soulful, so bright
so mysterious, so kind,
the eyes of promise, of future and flight.

Sometimes I forget You are His Daughter.
The Daughter of the One I gave my Heart to
the One I gave my solemn Vow to
The Daughter I nagged God for
And made Promises that I would Die for

Sometimes I truly forget You are His Daughter.
The One who broke my Heart and Soul
For Whose treachery I fought Padded walls
And Lived to see the Sun of Day
You Child, a third, the power
that Helped me get away.

Sometimes I forget You are His Daughter.
You are so unlike Him
You are so like Him
And so Stubborn like Me.
And it's so easy to Forget.
That you are a Soul all of your Own.
A Soul so Old and Wise.
A Soul so conning and elusive.

Sometimes I just forget.

For Neo.

State of Grace

It's not that I am not grateful;
For the graceful ways that we be today,
When you came our way we were of simpler minds
and even more simpler ways.
We dreamt of coffee fields on mountainous hills,
Of colorful mornings and wondrous sights.
We looked forward to the sounds of nature's abide
welcoming us into La Isla Del Encanto;
yes,  paradise.

It's not that I am not grateful;
For the learnt way we be today.
You brought with you fine institutions of wisdom
and established them in our small little island.
And our knowledge grew of the things you knew
For before you came
We knew only of our Mother Spain and of
our African and Taino ways.
Of 500 years, of the Old Lady's pain
and of becoming masters of healing
and music, and dance, while still appearing
humble and compliant.
Of dancing ballads from all three nations
and graceful names throughout creation.
A thousand years of Moor influence
propelled our task masters; and maritime
conquests abounded.
Of Don Quijote and fine composers,
of fine wines, architecture and fine perfumes.

Oh, what?  That is not what you heard?

You were told we were a population of illiterate peasants?
That poverty and disease ran rapid?
That we were unsophisticated and uncouth? 
Void of any true culture and therefore, in need of total
revamping and Americanization?
It is true what they say,
"Don't believe everything you read".

It's not that I am not grateful;
That our agricultural lands were paved over
and industrial buildings where erected
in place of our sugar cane, coffee and tobacco crops.
And over a century of one way trading
has left Puerto Rico totally dependent on
the United States' unilateral trading practices.
Cultivating trade with other countries is
forbidden.  Reminds me of that saying;
"First you make thieves and then you punish
them for stealing?"

It's not that I am not grateful;
For allowing us the opportunity to fight in all
your wars. 
Yet be seen as solely a mestizo race
and given our own little special place
called segregation and isolation.
That our beautiful, strong, lovely women
were chosen in medical experimentations
and thanks to them, we now have contraception.
Political prisoners where given radiation
and mental patients cancer cells.
If you believe we were the only ones;
And that that could not happen here?
You need to open your eyes and recognize.
The drug infestation in major cities
like New York, Chicago and California, of the
1930's, were orchestrated by vile men who wanted
to exterminate spics and niggers. 

Yes, you and me.

It's not that I am not grateful,
I still believe in our forefathers' vision and still believe in
their promise. 
That in this land, over here, things were
going to be different, better, and all inclusive.
That race, language, sexual preference, religious ideology
and theology, mental capacity and/or monetary deficiency
or abundance;
none of it,
none of it would matter. 
You could still have a chance at the pursuit of happiness,
only if you are brave enough to chase it.
I believe in this country enough to hand over my only two sons
and say, "Now go fight for our Nation".
I tell them, "No matter where you are; Remember who you are" and
sleep soundly knowing,
that they take those words to heart.


Dedicated to First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, "Good looking out Girl!"

Open Letter to Congress

It's not that I am not grateful, but when will it be our turn? We have waited over a century for the assimilation process to come full circle, to be called a State of this Great Nation and patiently we continue to wait.

Why are we treated like a Red Headed Step Child?  A Red Headed Step Child is that one curious child that doesn't particularly look like his father.  You know, the one whose paternity is questioned but never in public?  Boricuas, Tainos, Latinos; us the other Americans, Puerto Ricans.

It's not that I am not grateful.  Because of the U.S., I speak the language that I speak, got the education that I got and am able to communicate with you, right here and right now.  But did it have to come at the expense of an invasion?   What was that all about?  Your history books say it was in response to the Spanish threat in the Caribbean.  I found other books that said it was a strategic military decision in preparation of the Panama Canal project.  Was it really a matter of national security?  So many unanswered questions.

I am American.  Let me make this clear, let me say this again, I am American.  I did not submit an Entry Petition Application with INS.  My finger prints did not accompany this non-submitted Application nor was a Police Search made of any Criminal activity I may have been a party of due to the same phantom application.  I did not stand in front of a judge, pledged allegiance to the United States of America and swore for all eternity to forsake my previous nationality.  I was born an American.  There is no Puerto Rican citizenship. There is no such thing.  All Puerto Ricans are born Americans.

Yet, someone, in some southern state, wondered why I didn't have a green card.  Americans don't need green cards.

It's not that I am not grateful, it's just that the process that was commenced 114 years ago is not complete.  I really don't want to be evil in my thinking, but why make us Americans so that we can be drafted into American wars and not make our homeland a State?  America, you have proclaimed to the whole world that we are as one,  yet have refused to close the deal.   Make this Red Headed Step Child legitimate.  Stop procuring stalling tactics in the form of multiple Status Ballots for the approval of the Puerto Rican population on the island, while at the same time demanding a majority of 75% or higher outcome.  That is ludicrous and unattainable.

U.S. Congress we are not ignorant.  Puerto Ricans are aware of your stalling tactics, we know what you are doing, the time has come to do what is right and stop passing the buck!  This can come about with the simple passing of a Majority Congressional Vote. And Puerto Rico will become the 51st State.  Puerto Rico can then participate in the Electing of our country's President.  Taxation without Representation will once again be no more.  Punto y Aparte.  (translated, Finished and Put Aside; meaning. let's put an end to this already)

Language of the Fan

As a female I love fans, don't you?  I love going into a place, no matter where, inside or outside and while I am waiting, I fan myself.  Whether it's a cold 60 degrees or a smoldering 105 degrees Fahrenheit; I fan myself. With a pretty pink fan my sister Marilyn gave me for Christmas, I fan myself. 

Sometimes it's not about the need to cool down.  Most times it's the feel of the wind on my face that I crave.  I even sleep with a fan directed to my face, whether the A/C is on or not.  Yes, I am the first one to admit, I am special. :)

Most people look at me and I can just imagine what they think;  "Oh, she must be Menopausal."  Well, I am not.  Carrying and using a fan is one of those time honored traditions that has been replaced by the fast technology of the "I don't have enough time to wait" and the "If it is not powered by electricity, then it is not for me."

Most people don't realize that 19th century ladies created a whole language involving the use of their fans in an attempt to secretly communicate with young men while at social events.   Restrictive social norms and stern chaperons created the need for such behavior.  I myself, would have revolted at such draconian treatment of my civil liberties, but then again, maybe not. 

Many years ago I remember reading about the definitions of some of these hand/fan gestures and thought it appropriate to include some of the more whimsical ones I found.   I hope you enjoy them as much as I do, as I list them below:

• Fan slowly across chest: "I am free and available, I don't have a boyfriend."
• Fan in fast, short movements over her chest:  "I have a partner or boyfriend, so keep going."
• Opened or closed fan and touched her cheek:  "I like you!"
• Fan on her temple and looked up:  "I think of you day and night!"
• Saw her boyfriend talking to another girl or suspected he was being unfaithful; she would touch fan to her nose, meaning:  "Something doesn't smell good here."
• Walked side by side hitting the palm of her hand with fan:  "Be careful, honey, the chaperon is coming."
• Opened and closed fan and then pointed with it towards the garden:  "Wait for me there, sweetheart.  Soon, I will be there with you."

And finally, if she covered her mouth with the fan and looked at him very suggestively, she was sending him a kiss, and obviously, the gentleman knew he was the chosen one!

This post was born from the experience of encountering a fellow fan enthusiast at the nail salon.  She proudly showed me her cute chinese, round black and white fan and protested at how her husband and most people, didn't comprehend her need for her fan.  I sympathized and quite possibly made a friend.  Let's see.  Janice, if you are out there, I am still waiting for that Facebook friend request.  :)

I borrowed the title and definitions from an internet web page by the same name:  The Language of the Fan, www.ladanza.com/language.htm

A Blessed Mother's Day Post

This Mother's Day is a little different than most Mother's Days of the past in that this holiday is no longer marked by little ones making breakfast for me, or jumping in my bed startling me with homemade presents and giggling with expectant delights that were awaiting us throughout the day.  My little ones are now grown men and a woman who fill me with joy and happiness at the thought of the privilege to have spent my youth with them.   For in a way, I literally grew up with my children and am content to be a young hip grandma because of it.

I look forward to seeing what my children will accomplish and are yet to become.  I am at a place in my life where I feel fearless and ready to face whatever life has in store for me and mine.  I am not trying to tempt faith or anything like that, it is just, I remember being so afraid when I was a young mother.  I was afraid for my children health.  I was afraid for their welfare.  I was afraid for their future.  But in all this fear, I was not afraid in one aspect, I was sure in my faith in God and that I had dedicated my children to Him and for Him.  Meaning, I saw my children as a temporary gift God had bestowed upon me, so that I might instill in them the will to become anyone they wished to become.  I saw them as people that I was raising not for myself but for society.  And that, unlike some mothers, my own to be more specific, I would not hinder their paths by being so selfish as to try and keep them for myself; and in doing so, limit their potential.

One of my favorite sayings to my children was that "I was raising self sufficient children" (along with "God punishes disobedient children" which by the way worked wonders!!!).   I taught each one to cook, clean, iron, type, budget their money and drive a car.  All the skills that I possessed, I in turn, made it a point of passing it along to them.  I smile when from time to time, one of them mention that they do something a certain way because it was something I taught them to do. I had to be strict and unconventional in a lot of ways and must admit they didn't always love me because of it.  But I accepted very early on that as long as they respected me and followed my advice, I could wait for their love later in life.  I have not been disappointed and feel very blessed.

To all the young mothers struggling with their own small children, please know this,  our children are worth every sacrifice, delayed dream, strength and effort. Don't despair.  Don't give up.  Seek those that have been there and can relate and can advise.  Doesn't matter if you have a wonderful husband, companion or baby daddy at your side.  If you do, more power to you.  If you don't, you can still do it. Plenty of us have.  Find the strength, that wonderful unique strength that God has given women, and carry on with your battle.  Once your children have become adults, then you can breathe and smile and enjoy the many little blessings that come your way. 

Dedicated to all the wonderful strong women in my family and in my life.


Happy Mother's Day!!

Parents Be Vigilant

Being a parent is not easy.  It never has been and I suspect it never will be.  Recently I heard the disturbing news that the minor children of a dear friend have been engaging in sexual activities with each other.  Most people might approach this as a scandalous, unsavory kind of subject which should not be talked about much less discussed in such a public forum as this blog.   Well,  I promised my readers to broach all subjects without fear  and if I was to think as most people, I would be the type of person, I really don't care too much about.

As a survivor of sexual child abuse myself, I can give a unique first hand perspective as to why children would venture into childhood sexual behavior, and perhaps shed some light into what type of emotions and impulses are driving such behavior and finally how you can best help your child if you are ever found in the nightmarish scenario my sweet kind friend finds herself in right now.

My heart broke when I heard my friend lost control upon discovering her children in sexual play and beat all three of them.  Violence is not the way to solve this problem.  Parents need to remain in control if they are to get a positive result to any situation regarding their children.  Children involved in such activities need to be secluded, interviewed and protected.  They will need counseling and parents need to prepare themselves because the road back to normalcy will be long and hard.  Children involved in sexual activities are children that have been exposed to sex in an unhealthy and damaging way.  They either have seen it or have experienced it through a sexual predator.

Most children do not understand that they have the right to refuse something that does not feel right to them.  Sexual predators will use guilt, manipulation, fear, or any other means available to them to reach the child and break down their natural defenses.  That is the main reason I advocate speaking freely to your children about all subjects and keeping that communication flowing freely so that parents realize what is going on in their children's lives.  Don't assume that your well adjusted intelligent child will not fall victim to a vile adult, make sure they don't, speak to them.

Sexually abused children have to deal with their own feelings of guilt and culpability.  They often wonder what they have done to have provoked such actions from the sexual predator. They are easily confused with feelings of pleasure and the forbidden.   Once ensnared into participating, the cycle of abuse becomes more elaborate since the sexual predator will use those same feelings of guilt and culpability against the child to secure their future cooperation.

My advice to my friend is that she seek counseling for her children.   Comfort your children and let them know that you over reacted and that their inappropriate behavior does not diminish your love for them.  Let them know that the nightmare is over.  That you are there to protect them.  I will let my friend know that she is not alone and she has friends and family who will help her through this.  I will advocate patience, love and understanding.  Let us who love you help you and your children.