#my family is the last stop of las posadas!

[keshetchai]

Okay this wins my monthly "you literally could not be more wrong award":

Comment: tell me you don't know any Catholics without telling me you don't...

I'm cackling. This is the FUNNIEST thing said to me this week, if not the entire month.

The implication that I, a person who was baptized and raised Catholic, don't know any Catholics? HYSTERICAL.

I'll make sure to tell my family, I think my great aunt who used to be a nun would get a laugh out of that. Also really weird that my grandparents have a papal blessing for their 50 year wedding anniversary if they aren't Catholic, but what do I know?

[th3okamid3monart]

Things I’m going to miss this Holidays

There are a couple of traditions we do in my family that I havent seen in other places and with one search on the internet I realize that most of the things we do are from my own country + some that we make up ourselves. 

So Im going to share them here because... Well, there’s a big-ass chance I wont be able to do them this Christmas nor New years. 

NOTE: When I say ‘my family’ in a lot of this, I mean ALL my family. Which means, all my grandparents, all my aunts, all my uncles, all my cousins, and, yes, EVEN my great grandaparents, cousins, uncles, aunts and more. Because we all know each other and we even make a party once a year for my dad’s side of the family 

Here I go:

Las Posadas

There’s this thing that we do at one of my grandparents’ house that involves singing a carol about the time Maria and Jose were looking for a place to stay to rest before travel far away for the birth of Jesus. It is a song which is singed by 2 groups, one that is inside and the other that’s outside. What we do is the following: One group goes inside a room in the house while the other stays outside the door, the group outside sings one part and the other sings the other. We go back and forward until we finish the song. It is pretty funny because no one sings well and its just like a bunch of grown ups practically screaming but we always end up chuckling. I used to think it was pointless and boring but that was because I was an edgy potato, after I enter University i began to enjoy more things and be happier. This is going to be the second time I wont be with my complete family for Christmas and now its all the family who wont be able to go to my grandparents house for a celebration. 

12 grapes, 12 wishes

In both sides of my family we usually fill up 12 grapes in a cup and give everyone 1 cup each. I dont remember what exactly the grapes meant or the story about the wishes but it’s supposedly like before it strikes 12 am on New Years, we have to eat our grapes while also wishing for something. I remember when I was younger I’d wish for peace on the world or that everything went well for everyone. I think I’m going to buy a bigger bag of grapes this year. 

Something that was funny was that everyone would just... Stuff their mouths with grapes, mostly my cousins and I, just to see how many we could fit. Not everyone wished for many things in the family because I think we all feel we had and have enough. If my family does this again on their own, I’m pretty certain their wishes would be to be able to meet with the family. 

Piñata

Every year since I was little, my grandparents buy a piñata to smash before or during Christmas. They find it such a good activity for cousins and even for my aunts, my mom and uncle. They literally havent stopped buying them, the oldest grandchild in that side of the family its in her 30s, but they still buy a piñata. I think its mostly for the youngest which are below 16, never the less, its still super funny and hilarious because we go from youngest to oldest. By the time it gets to my brother, its still intact, he only swings it once and its completely DESTROYED. We just have a lot of fun, and sometimes we make my mom or my aunts to hit it. My mom wasnt as cheery when I was a kid, but now she laughs more and when it comes to the piñata she laughs and enjoys her time even more. 

Games 

Like any gathering, all cousins bring up something we can do to entertain ourselves. At first they were toys my grandparents had for us, then it was videogames and now... Its board games. My bro is the one obsess with different boardgames and DnD and other card games. So, about 5 years ago he began bringing boardgames for all cousins to play along. We either talk with each other or try to destroy each other with any game there is. Videogames are fun but we all find it a drag to bring the console to the place, besides we usually get so busy with each others banter and weird conversations that we just forget about the videogames all together. 

At my other grandparents house it becomes W I L D. Last time someone brough a beer pong table and they all began to take shots with mezcal (I’m trying to not drink a lot of the time ever since I puked one time. If I drink its light things like wine and only one glass). Then my aunts play music and began to sing and everyone follows up, and... Well last time they began to dance.... And all my cousins were very embarassed and I was hella confused. Suffice to say, my dad’s side of the family are super freakishly energetic and wild, while my mom’s side is more of a geeky, nerdy vibe with a lot of meme stuff and political conversations at times (Oh yeah, we talk a lot of different political stuff, but guess what? It never derails into a fight. I note this due to always reading people’s talks ending with fights and stuff and that kinda weirds me out a bit at times) 

Dinners 

I don’t remember the time exactly, probably since I was 15 maybe, my dad and I turned into the designated ‘chefs’. Every year we’ve been deciding and preparing foods for each house. We make the main course while my aunts do the sides (although sometimes it becomes like 3 main courses with 2 sides). Im waaaaaaaaay into the cooking and I try to make it perfect each year. I kinda chillaxed a bit with some foods because it wasnt that big of a deal. Besides the main course, I also decide to make a dessert and sometimes they arent eaten because my families have some sugar regulations. They are stored and kept after Christmas because thats better than eating it all in one sitting and having sugar poisoning (AKA, high sugar that needs a fast Insuline injection afterwards). 

It is always fun to make food with my dad, and to make the famous Tamales from my grandma’s recipe. Last time i think we made around 400? Between green salsa chicken, red salsa beef and pork, and some that were like... its like an adobe, its with achiote and orange juice. It was very tasty. We usually make a lot and freeze them. THEY ARENT COOKED, they are raw and then frozen. Every time we take some out, we make them with vapor, takes around 2 hours and they are always tasty. I remember I made a batch all by myself, I made the feelings, I mixed the masa, and I assemble 100 by my own, the rest was thankfully made by my parents. And it was the best when I gave some to my grandma and she told me that they were super good. Of course, I made a couple mistakes, Im not perfect but she still enjoyed it with the salsa I made. Maybe I can still make some this year and give each family a batch. 

Aunt’s cookies

Every year, every god damn year... We all wait for one thing... It’s not the presents, its not the food... Its the cookies. The motherfucking cookies. My aunt has made this cookies since I was a kid, and we all fought to get a bunch of them. She has made choco chip with nuts cookies every year without missing. And they always end before Christmas even hits. She once gave me frozen batch so I can cook them at home and she told me ‘Dont tell anybody’. Of course I cannot not tell anyone since I live with my parents and siblings but when I made them I made sure to make them when my dad wasnt home. Not only because Im a gluttonous fuck but because my dad is diabetic and he shouldnt be eating anything like that. 

It used to be a battle royal between my cousins, now its a battle against my uncles cause they LOVE TO FUCKING HIDE THE BIG ASS CONTAINER. I swear, i only got 1 or 2 god damn cookies last time. 

Breakfast at...Lunch at...

After Christmas, we always go eat at my grandparents house. Always. And it’s, most of the time, Menudo. The most delicious food you can make with cow stomach. It’s my grandpa’s recipe and it’s always good. Meanwhile, we lunch at my grandma’s house the leftovers of yesterdays dinner which it varies if its turkey or pork but it always ends up as a torta. Delicious, leftover, tortas. 

We end up... SUPER CONSTIPATED because you eat menudo with bread, and you make tortas with bread, and we all eat bread and like... A LOT. Its hella good but well... THERE ARE CONCEQUENCES!! 

I think thats all, at least the most relevant parts. There’s also The Toast of El Bohemio, the stupidity and over eating i do for fun for some cousins, the conversations that go from super deep to stupidity with cousins, the music we play, the hugs... 

THE HUGS

When its the New Year, we scream out HAPPY NEW YEAR. And we proceed to hug each and everyone, one time I waited to see everyone and they all were very very happy. Its something I didnt realize before, but that was a happy thing all the time. Last year we event celebrated with other family, most of this reunions are compose with the nuclear family, but we arent shy about involving more family or friends. So last year not only included some family and their friends, we also included a 2 new members of the family: My newborn cousin and my cousin’s now husband. 

It was like.. One of the best beginnings... Which kind of... didnt prepared us for what this...sucky year. 

I’m sure we’ll make it ok... I sure hope so, I wanna see my grandparents again... I wanna see my baby cousin, he is babbling and has already learned to walk. The little dude doesnt have cousins to play with anymore, I wanna make sure he doesnt confuse me by his aunt ajjajajaja. I want to talk to my cousins, I want to hug them and scream with them and eat with them all. 

But maybe this year it wont happen, and I rather it not happening than loosing any of them. 

Right now I cant smell, and everything hurts, but it kinda helps ease things when i remember this and when I think they all are still kinda healthy. 

Maybe when it all passes we can make a march reunion, to celebrate my grandma’s birthday. In the meantime, I’m going to try to get better and wish for this Christmas to not suck now that It’s only my main family and I. 

Hope everyone is safe, I hope you can at least see your parents or siblings. I hope you dont get sick nor have to spend time at a hospital or anything. I hope all who are, get help and dont get worse. I hope you all get better. 

Hope you have Happy Holidays. 

[estrelafics]

Warm Embrace

Fandom: Ducktales (2017) / The three Caballeros

Ship: Josepan (José x Panchito)

Words: 3,154

Summary: José and Panchito are invited to spend the holidays over in Duckburg. However, Panchito worries about José’s homesickness.

Notes:

The part by the fireplace was my favourite part to write from all the xmas fics I wrote. I wanted to give a sense of a peaceful Christmas night, surrounded by people we love. I hope I succeeded ♥

This one was so long, and it was a pain to edit too lol With the lack of time and the xmas rush, I didn’t have the time to polish it as much as I wanted, but I hope it’s still enjoyable to read.

Merry Christmas everyone ♥

Decorating the entire McDuck manor was a big challenge, but it was a challenge Panchito adored.

It was Christmas Eve and Panchito thought that the McDuck manor absolutely needed some more Christmas spirit.

Decorating had always been one of his favourite holiday activities, therefore he didn’t mind doing this while waiting for the dinner.

With his everlasting energy, along with excitement to spend his first Christmas in Duckburg with his two best friends, he decided to decorate every single room of the manor.

Making his way down to the first floor, placing glittering garlands on the staircase railing, he noticed at the corner of his eye his good old friend José.

The parrot gazed outside the large window with a nostalgic expression in his eyes. Panchito immediately thought that José looked sorrowful…which worried him. He knew José very well, and knew that he was one to always be eager for the holidays.

Curiosity tainted Panchito’s worry and he walked over to the parrot, albeit, carefully so that he wouldn’t startle the other.

“Do you want to decorate with me?” Panchito asked, showing him a string of lights that José could help put on the window. “I know, you like to decorate as well.”

José smiled, he took his part of the string and helped.

“You are on your own? I thought os pathinhos were helping you.” José asked.

“Well they did at first…We decorated the foyer and the living room together,” The rooster replied with a chuckle. “But then Louie realised that the more rooms we decorate, the more work it would be for us to take it down after…and now I am on my own.”

José laughed.

“They have a good point, you know.”

Panchito carelessly shrugged.

“This isn’t going to stop me. I will only stop when every room in this manor has been decorated…” He then glanced at the box of decoration that he had been carrying. “Or at least, until there are no more decorations left...” He added sheepishly since the box was almost empty.

He admittedly was surprised that Scrooge had so many decoration, since the old miser apparently really disliked this holiday.

“It will be gorgeous once everything is decorated.”

When he finished setting the last part of the lights, Panchito stepped back, plugged the lights and admired their work.

“Well, you are right. It really is beautiful.” José agreed.

Panchito beamed, a feeling of proud washing over him. Then there was a quiet moment between them; one that made Panchito notice once more that José was gazing outside the window instead of at the decorations.

“So are you excited for the holidays, Zé?” Panchito suddenly asked.

This question prompted a look of surprise from José.

“I am. Why the question?”

Panchito didn’t respond, he slightly raised a brow and gave him a knowing look...It was enough for José to confess.

The parrot sighed, he didn’t know why he thought he could lie to Panchito.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am very excited and happy to be here with everyone…it’s just that it’s the first time in years that I spend Christmas away from Brazil,” He chuckled as if he was saying something silly.

José sat on one of the stairs. “I suppose I am starting to be a little homesick...”

Already…? Panchito though. They only arrived 2 days ago!

Panchito was shocked of course, but did not judge his friend for feeling that way. He knew that José got homesick pretty quickly.

José had always been attached to his home and Brazil, and therefore it was normal for him to feel melancholic whenever he was away. Usually when they were exploring or adventuring, it was easy for the parrot to be busy or distracted. But here, days have been rather quiet so far and uneventful, Panchito realised it must been hard.

“I can sympathise,” Panchito said kindly, sitting next to his friend. He placed a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “It is also the first time I spend Christmas away from Mexico in a long time too. It is different here. But I am really excited about it.”

José smiled at him. Something about Panchito’s eagerness and warm smile always reassured him.

“I always wanted to spend the holidays with you and Donald,” Panchito continued. “And the fact that so many others are here too is wonderful. It makes for a lively holiday and somehow reminds me of home. It is always nice to meet new people and to make new memories with them.”

José nodded, but didn’t say a word. His eyes were glazed, mostly on the fake poinsettias decorations left in the box.

To get his friend’s attention back, Panchito gently held his hand. The parrot looked at him with curiosity as Panchito offered a smile.

“I promise it will be fun for you too! You won’t regret it José!” Without realising he softly brushed José’s fingers. “And next year, maybe we can even celebrate Christmas in Brazil together!”

“Thank you, but you really don’t need to do anything like this,” José shock his hands rapidly. “I am sure it would be very fun and I appreciate the gesture. But I assure you, my friend. I am happy, no matter where I am.”

Although, José loved the idea of spending Christmas in Brazil, it would be bothersome to everyone, especially to poor Donald who had to bring three kids along. It would add one more weight on Donald’s shoulders, and that was the last thing he wanted.

José stood up to leave before the conversation could digress further. But Panchito was still not convinced and followed him.

“It would have been a bother in the past. But now they have a pilot and can go anywhere!”

“You don’t know that. Many things can change in a year…”

“But—“

“Panchie, please don’t think too much about it!” José interrupted. “My homesickness will go away eventually. There is nothing to worry about.” He shrugged.

And before Panchito could even reply, José quickly reached for the remaining decorations left in the box.

“Now, come on! Let’s at least finish putting on these before the dinner starts! It’s getting late, you know.”

Panchito finally dropped the subject, only now realising the time.

“You can take care of the garlands and the wreath, while I will put on the last lights.” José suggested.

Panchito followed the instructions, but his conversation with José was still stirring on his mind…

He simply hoped the parrot wouldn’t leave without at least letting Donald or him know.

***

The Christmas Eve evening passed pretty quickly.

Panchito was sitting close to the warm fireplace, and so were many of the other McDuck manor residents. He stopped drumming soft Christmas melodies on his guitar, when he noticed that many were sound asleep in the living room.

After the dinner, came the caroling. And after singing together, Panchito had the idea to read some Christmas stories to the children.

It has been a family tradition from his childhood that he still holds dearly in his heart. When he was younger, he remember his tío reading Christmas stories to him, his siblings and many primos.

Tonight, he decided that it was a nice opportunity continue the tradition by reading to the four ducklings. He was even happier when he realised that the book Webby found in the library contained his favourite story from Mexico about Las Posadas.

Afterwards, Launchpad proposed that everyone should try to stay up until midnight to unwrap the gifts. And even if all agreed, almost everyone fell asleep way before then, tired from their day.

Panchito stretched his arms in the air, starting to feel drowsy as well.

Beakley had turned off the lights a few minutes earlier, only leaving the soft light of the fireplace to illuminate the big room. And along with Donald, she covered the kids (and Launchpad) with warm cozy blankets.

When the clock struck midnight, only three people were still awake in the living room.

Panchito glanced over at Scrooge, as the old duck was leaving the room.

“Merry Christmas,” He wished quietly.

“Bah humbug,” Scrooge replied, before leaving the room, though a serene smile was on his face.

Panchito smiled and looked over at Donald who was calmly asleep next to him. When the duck tucked Huey and Webby earlier, the two ducklings decided to use him as a pillow.

Donald’s irritation over that decision disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Not willing to fight, Donald let it be, snuggling them closer and slowly joined them in peaceful slumber.

“Feliz Navidad, Donald.” Panchito whispered, as he made sure to cover his friend with a blanket.

Then Panchito looked over at the last person awake in the room.

José was still reading the Christmas book from earlier by the dim light of the fireplace.

The rooster scooted closer to him to whisper.

“Feliz Natal, José.”

José stopped reading once he heard his voice and offered a warm smile. He had been so absorbed in his reading that he lost track of the time.

“Feliz Navidad to you too.” Panchito admired the gratitude in José’s eyes before the parrot started rubbing them.

“Are you getting tired?” Panchito chuckled.  

“Sim, very tired.” José replied, covering himself with the cozy blanket Donald had gave him earlier. “But I don’t want to leave the living room...the ambiance is really...soothing.”

Panchito agreed. The fireplace was really warm and cozy, and as much as he always preferred colourful environments full of life, he was grateful for this peaceful moment. He felt so comfortable being here as well.

“Well you don’t need to leave. You can stay here, many people stayed here as well and I think will stay too.” He softly put his hand on top of José’s. “I hope you are feeling better and are having a good Christmas.”

José’s eyes remained a few minutes on their hands, but he didn’t comment on it nor moved his away.

“Yes, I am…” He then snuggled closer to Panchito and rested his head on his shoulder. “Muito obrigado, Panchie…”

Panchito was a little shocked, but didn’t say anything, there was nothing to say after all.

Instead, he nuzzled José and rested his head on top of the other’s.

***

Panchito slowly fluttered his eyes open.

The sunlight of the early morning was shining right into his eyes and he regretted not closing the curtains in his guest room last night.

After finally managing to open his eyes, he realised that he wasn’t in the guest room actually, but in the McDuck living room, in front of the now died out fireplace.

Looking around the room, he saw Donald and the kids still asleep. Even Launchpad was still slumbering on the couch…but something was missing…he realised that José wasn’t anywhere in the room!

As soon as the information hit his still tired brain, Panchito completely awoke almost in a panic.

“José?!” He asked.

He immediately turned to Donald, he didn’t want to accidentally wake up the kids or start a state of panic among everyone.

“Donald! Donald! José isn’t here! Do you know where he went? Did he tell you something?” He tried to remain calm, but he couldn't hide the wavering worry in his voice.

“He…forgot…to…”The duck mumbled, before turning around to sleep on his other side. Panchito frowned.

“What?! Donald, he forgot what?!” He was completely confused.

“Your friend left.”

Panchito froze when he heard these words. Words he begged were not true. He slowly turned to face the voice and saw Beakley not so far from the fireplace. She was carrying in wood to light up the fireplace again.

“What?” Panchito asked again, wanting to know more.

“I saw him leave a couple of minutes ago with his coat on.”

This alerted Panchito even more, sadness rapidly appeared in his eyes. It was then that she understood this was not an information he expected or wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry,” She genuinely added.

The rooster quickly got up. In a frantic, he put on his coat and left his scarf loosely around his neck. Before leaving he reached for his bag and immediately rushed outside not wanting to lose another second, while thoughts were rushing through his mind.

José couldn’t leave before saying goodbye to Donald and him, right? That wouldn’t be something he could do! But what if José got really homesick this morning? So homesick that he planned to leave and go back home suddenly?

Panchito didn’t even know if there was a plane in Duckburg leaving for Brazil this morning, but he didn’t want to risk it. He started to dial up a taxi.

Too caught up in his thoughts, once he stepped outside, he didn’t notice the condition of the ground and slipped on the ice, almost landing face on the snow.

“Panchito?!”

Panchito looked up and couldn’t believe his eyes for a second when he saw José…and the parrot had caught him right before he fell on the ice.

“José?!”

The parrot was looking at him with big eyes. Obviously surprised to see the rooster in such a panic state, he was barely wearing a coat and his loose scarf around his neck was almost on the ground.

“Panchie, did something happen?” José asked worried.

There was a sort moment of silence between them, enough for Panchito to think about the reality, what was happening and what he should say.

“¿Dónde estabas, José? ¡Te estaba buscando, y estaba muy preocupado!” He ran a hand over his head, trying to clearly express what was coming through his mind. “I-I thought you go really homesick and that you decided to leave in the end…”

José looked at him, still confusion in his eyes.

“Why would you think I would leave? I couldn’t…not after someone very caring and wonderful wanted me to stay.” He said with a soft smile.

Panchito smiled for a second, as he heard these comforting words his body was finally relaxing. José knew…he was staying...and Panchito was glad…

“Well, more than one person cared about you staying, actually.” He replied modestly, albeit he really appreciated the compliment and couldn’t help but to blush. “But why did you get up early? I thought you hated mornings, Zé.”

The parrot chuckled. “I do. I do. But there are stuff more important than sleeping in the morning.” He shifted on his feet. “I know we said not gifts between us…but you know me.”

“You always give us something Zé…” Panchito shock his head, trying to comprehend what José was getting at.

They always promise not to get stuff for each other, but never succeed in keeping this promise. Donald would always bake something for them, José would always draw an art piece for them and Panchito would make melodies dedicated to them. “I don’t understand why it would be different this year.”

“Yes. I do have the art piece for you and Donald…but I also wanted to get you something else. Just a little thank you for caring so much about me…” He showed him a gift that he had been hiding behind his back until now. “I left it in one of my bags in Scrooge’s airplane and didn’t had much time to wrap it correctly. But I hope you like it.”

“José…” Panchito was touched. Nevertheless, he took the box and looked at it speechless.

José imagined that ever-so-energetic Panchito would rapidly open the present as soon as he would receive it. However, that wasn’t the case. Panchito did not open the gift right away.

Instead, he gestured José to wait, before rummaging in his own bag and getting another box. “Here, I also got you something special…”

José didn’t said anything, but his eyes were showing gratefulness.

And as José imagined, Panchito then looked at his own gift so cheerfully. José didn’t wrap the box, but it still had a cute bow on it. A bow Panchito was certain José spent a delicate amount of time on making it perfectly to compensate for the lack of wrapping paper. He untied the bow and opened the box to find a lovely bouquet of poinsettias. A smile crossed his face as he picked them put to admire them, but then noticed that something else was in the box.

It was a notebook. He picked the notebook and opened it to see that there was so much of José in it.

On the first page was written “Sempre pensando em você” and had beautiful music notes design and scales through the pages, illustrated by José himself. He definitely could recognise his art style anywhere. Every page seemed to have a musical doodle or a special note on it.

Panchito beamed, loving his gift so much.

“It’s for when you need to write your lovely music. It is small enough that you can carry everywhere, but big enough so that you can easily doodle and write. I can assure you.” José said with a smile.

“ZÉ! GRACIAS!” Panchito expressed. He was about to hug him, but then stopped.

“You need to open yours, now, mi amigo.” He mentioned playfully.  

José nodded. He delicately unwrapped his gift, wondering what Panchito could have got for him. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he found a little heart-shaped pendant with a small star symbol on it.

“Panchito…This is beautiful,” He said almost speechless. “You didn’t have to…”

“Did you see how pretty it is?! I definitely had too!” He expressed with so much energy and cheerfulness. “When I saw it, I immediately thought of you! And look! It’s a locked pendant!” He grabbed hold of the object and opened it. “You can put a picture in it! Now you can carry your home in your heart wherever you go!”

José eyes glimmered at the thoughtful meaning of the gift. As much as he loved Brazil, he knew he would put the picture of someone instead.

“I know it’s not the same, but maybe you will feel less homesick?” Panchito added sheepishly. “I was so afraid that you would leave without—“

Panchito wanted to tell him more, but was grasping for words the instant José suddenly embraced him tenderly.

Panchito returned the embrace with as much love and care.

“I am so happy that you didn’t leave,” The rooster ended up saying softly, feeling his heart racing.

“I am happy that I didn’t either.” José chuckled.

And when Panchito thought things couldn’t get better, José gave him a soft kiss.

“It’s kind of cold, isn’t it?” José said, holding Panchito’s cold hands and bringing them closer to his beak for soft kisses. “We should go back inside before you catch a cold, caro.”

Panchito didn’t feel the cold, but he also didn’t object.

“It’s a good idea.” He said as he placed a small kiss on José’s beak.

[lunaamatista]

References to Mexican Culture in Coco

By now, you’ve probably heard Coco is one of the most well researched films about Mexico and its culture. There are many small details that make it feel like Mexico: the stone roads in a small town, the traditional embroidery patterns in the shirts of Miguel’s female relatives, an uncle wearing a soccer team shirt, even a bowl of limes in a stand of aguas frescas. Of course, the looks of papel picado, day of the dead altars, and cemeteries are also well represented. The clothes of the relatives Miguel sees in the world of the dead is accurate to their eras. While these are a nice touch, you’re ultimately not missing out on anything by not spotting them, so in this post I wanted to talk about the more culturally based details that show the most research and you might not understand if you’re not very well acquainted with Mexican culture:

Names and pronouns

1. Coco

This one is the most straightforward, so let’s start with the name of the movie. While the protagonist is called Miguel, we soon learn that Coco is his great grandmother. “Coco” is what we call a woman called “Socorro” (lit. “help” - it’s a very traditional name that’s considered old fashioned).

The Rivera family calls her “Mamá Coco,” which means “Mother Coco.” They also call Imelda “Mamá Imelda,” and so on. Calling your grandparents “mamá” or “papá” instead of “abuelita” and “abuelito” is a thing you can do, though I can’t say how common it is.

In the Spanish version of the film, Miguel’s grandmother, Elena, talks to Mamá Coco with “usted” (I didn’t notice other instances, but they might be there). Spanish has a formal and an informal version of singular “you:” “usted” for formal, “tú” for informal. The verb conjugation also changes depending on which one you use. It is used differently all through the Spanish speaking world, but in Mexico, other than older people you respect (like a teacher), you can talk to older family members with “usted,” which means respect rather than the distance the formality might imply. Nowadays, it has fallen out of use: as someone born in the 90s, my grandparents talked to their parents almost exclusively with “usted;” out of my parents, my mother talked to hers with “usted” and my father with “tú;” I speak to my parents with “tú.” I have cousins on my mother’s side that talk to their parents with “usted,” but I would say that makes them a minority nowadays.

Traditions and beliefs

2. Crossing to the world of the dead on a bridge of marigolds

If you paid very close attention, you might have noticed two children scattering marigold petals on the ground and their mother telling them not to scatter them, but to make a bridge so the dead could cross over. It was easy to miss, but that’s actually something we believe!

There are several types of flowers you can place in a day of the dead altar, but the one you can’t do without is the yellow marigold. Its petals are scattered all around the altar, and at the very front, you’ll form a path surrounded with candles. The bright yellow will help the dead properly make their way to the altar, and the candles surrounding the path will light their way.

3. Crossing to the world of the dead with a xoloitzcuintli

Several prehispanic cultures had a similar concept of the underworld as many other cultures around the world, in which there was a river they had to cross to get there. For both the Aztecs/Mexicas and the Mayas, a xoloitzcuintli would guide their souls so they could cross the river safely and arrive to Mictlan (Mexicas) or Xibalba (Mayas). To achieve this, a xoloitzcuintli would be sacrificed and buried with its owner. Day of the dead altars can have a xoloitzcuintli figure so that the dead can make it back safely as well.

4. Being thrown into a cenote

My screenshot isn’t the best but at some point, Miguel is thrown into a big pit with water. That’s not just any random pit, but a cenote.

Cenotes are naturally ocurring sinkholes caused by the collapse of limestone. The word “cenote” has Maya etymology, as cenotes are commonly found in the Yucatán peninsula, where they (still!) live. In old times, they would sacrifice animals and people as tributes to the gods, and also throw ceramic objects and jewelry as part of the tribute.

5. Alebrijes

I left these for last because they don’t have any deep meaning. Alebrijes are colorful fantastic animals that a man called Pedro Linares saw in a fever dream. He was a skilled artisan, so when he woke up from his long sickness, he brought them to life in his art.

In Coco, alebrijes are spiritual guides, and while their designs are to the likes of the real alebrijes, the film actually gave them a more important role than they have for us.

Music

6. Genres of Mexican music

The songs in Coco all belong to genres we’ve grown up with, so even if someone isn’t that knowledgeable in music theory or genres, we could vaguely tell they sounded “Mexican” (some more than others). Someone who is more knowledgeable of music genres can help me out here, but I think:

- Remember Me / Recuérdame is a bolero ranchero.

- Much Needed Advice / Dueto a través del tiempo is a ranchera.

- Everyone Knows Juanita / Juanita is a corrido.

- Un Poco Loco is a son jarocho.

- The World Es Mi Familia / El mundo es mi familia is huapango inspired.

- Proud Corazón / El latido de mi corazón is a a son (son de mariachi? I’m most uncertain about this one).

6.5 Un Poco Loco

Un Poco Loco starts in English as

What color is the sky, ay mi amor, ay mi amor, You tell me that it’s red, ay mi amor, ay mi amor

And in Spanish as

Que el cielo no es azul, ay mi amor, ay mi amor, Es rojo dices tú, ay mi amor, ay mi amor

(You say the sky isn’t blue, oh my love, oh my love, It’s red, you say, oh my love, oh my love)

This might be a deliberate reference to a huapango called “Cielo rojo,” which says:

Mientras yo estoy dormido Sueño que vamos los dos muy juntos A un cielo azul Pero cuando despierto El cielo es rojo, me faltas tú

(As I sleep I dream of us close together Going towards a blue sky But when I wake up The sky red, I am missing you)

Within the universe of the movie, this would make it an anachronistic reference, though. Additionally, Cielo rojo is a song of loss and Un poco loco is about a woman who thinks very differently and likes to say everything backwards, and that makes him crazy (in a good way!). Hence, in English we’ve got her saying to put his shoes on his head instead of his feet, and in Spanish him saying she might think with her feet and also how she keeps playing with his thoughts. Cielo rojo is a pretty sad song.

7. La Llorona

And I purposefully left La Llorona out of that list (it’s originally a son istmeño, though).

There’s a full musical number in Spanish, which seems to have suprised some people. For those of us who watched Coco in Spanish, it wasn’t too hard to guess it was this one: La Llorona was likely left in Spanish because it’s a very old folk song, one of those that are so old it has no known author and there are many different versions of the lyrics.

“Llorona” just means “weeper,” which is not really as unusual of a word in Spanish as it is in English. It’s closer to “crybaby” in use. She’s also what we call a character in a Mexican folktale. If you’re curious, the version used in Coco says the following, with “llorona” being the singer herself:

Poor me, llorona, llorona dressed in sky blue Even if it costs me my life, llorona, I won’t stop loving you I climbed the highest pine tree to see if I could spot you Since the pine tree was so green, llorona, it cried upon seeing me cry

What is grief and what is not grief, llorona: it all is grief to me Yesterday, I was crying to see you, llorona; today, I’m crying because I saw you

Poor me, llorona, llorona dressed in sky blue Even if it costs me my life, llorona, I won’t stop loving you

Famous people

8. Ernesto de la Cruz

“Isn’t he an original charact-” NO LISTEN STAY WITH ME.

Remember how I said Remember Me is a bolero ranchero? Guess who we associate boleros rancheros with?

That would be Pedro Infante, who happens to have a strong resemblance to no other than Ernesto de la Cruz.

It’s probably not a coincidence at all, as later on we see Ernesto with Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete at his party. Ernesto de la Cruz was explicitly stated to be inspired on both of them and another singer of the same genres, Vicente Fernández.

My parents left the movie saying “Pedro Infante didn’t deserve that burn,” lol.

9. Frida Kahlo (and Diego)

She does have a rather prominent role so she’s hard to miss. For those unaware, Frida is the artist who made the flaming papaya.

The themes in Frida’s are autobiographical, as she had a rather unusual life due to polio and injury. She painted herself and her suffering a lot. That might be why we get performances with many Fridas and things like a crying cactus that’s herself.

Bonus: her husband, Diego Rivera, is also in the same studio where we meet Frida. He was an important artist, specifically a muralist. 

10. Other Mexican celebrities

I already brought up Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete as characters that appear right beside Ernesto de la Cruz.

But we also get to see a cameo of many other famous Mexican names in Ernesto’s studio! Excluding the people at the piano, from left to right:

Emiliano Zapata, a revolutionary; (my best guess is) Adela Velarde, another revolutionary; Ernesto and Miguel; (probably) Agustín Lara, composer and singer; (probably) Dolores del Río, actress (in Hollywood too!); Cantinflas, comedian and actor; Pedro Infante, singer and actor; María Félix, actress; El Santo, wrestler and actor; Jorge Negrete, singer and actor.

They kind of looked like this:

Another bonus: this gal looks like the calavera garbancera / the Catrina illustrated by José Guadalupe Posada.

There might be more things I’m missing or forgot; if that’s the case, feel free to let me know! You can also fix my music genres for me since that’s never been my forte.

I hope this was of interest to someone! 

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Next entry for @badthingshappenbingo! (Also, mods from that blog, if you’re reading this--seems like Tumblr hiccuped when I made that last post and didn’t tag you properly, so here’s the other story I wrote, too.)

Reminder that I am still accepting prompts for this! Check out my initial post for the guidelines. Also note the current bingo card on this post–the things I mark with crossbones are completed prompts, and ones with a single bone are ones that have been requested, but not written yet.

(Fics are also posted to AO3 and FFN, but please just use the links in my blog desc to get to those ‘cuz I’m too tired to make links for them.)

Aaand here’s our next prompt, submitted by @shouldernova​!

Prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion Characters: Imelda, Coco, Óscar, Felipe, pre-movie

A week after Héctor left with Ernesto on the train out of Santa Cecilia, Coco’s left shoe began to fall apart. Ever the frugal one, Imelda had set about to fix it on her own, and found she wasn’t too bad at the task. This got her thinking, and as soon as she was able, she wrote to Héctor about her desire to learn to make shoes.

Héctor had been more than supportive of the idea. Not that she’d ever needed his approval, of course, but it always made her smile to see his support, even in written form. He’d even filled the letter with little drawings of shoes, which had gotten a laugh out of Coco. A shoemaker and a musician—they would be quite the pair!

He would send letters detailing the people he and Ernesto met, the places they would see, and the things they did. But of course, he would always go on about how much he missed his girls and how he couldn’t wait to see their faces again. He even wrote separate letters for Coco, usually on short scraps of paper and with big lettering for her to easily see. He would even send her poems and song lyrics, which delighted her to no end. (Sometimes Coco would ask Imelda to try to sing the new poems he would send, but it usually ended with the two of them laughing at Imelda’s woeful lack of songwriting talent.)

Every time he sent his letters and earnings, Imelda would immediately write up a letter to send back to him. It was an annoying process, having to mail it to the inn it was mailed from, with instructions to forward it to the next hotel (Héctor would always leave a note with the hotel staff to have the mail forwarded), but it made sure they both kept up with each other. Imelda was able to tell Héctor everything that happened while he was gone—about how she had been doing with her shoe-making apprenticeship, how Coco was doing and how much they missed him, how they’d been visiting regularly with her parents and brothers, and so on. She’d let Coco dictate a bit of the letter, too, which she could imagine made him smile.

But it wasn’t the same as his being there.

Coco was always asking Imelda about when Papá would come home, and unfortunately, the answer was always changing. Along with all the other things Héctor wrote to them about, there would also be the occasional update about their tour—invariably, about how it was going to be extended. A few more days, a few more weeks. Another month.

While Héctor had never been a doormat, he’d always had trouble saying no to Ernesto.

Still, Imelda admitted, he was working hard for them, and so was she.

She’d already started preparing to set up shop, but it was more difficult work than she’d anticipated—and not just in terms of paperwork and preparing the supplies. Even with the money Héctor sent her, the supplies she had to buy went a bit over her budget. Despite this, she was determined to keep going with one less meal a day for herself, as long as Coco was fed.

When the first orders came in, Imelda was nearly overwhelmed. She knew how to make all of these kinds of shoes, of course, but now she wasn’t apprenticing under a skilled shoemaker—she was working on her own. Still, she wasn’t going to let Coco know just how overwhelmed she felt. Instead, she would send Coco off to visit her grandparents and tíos while she worked alone at the house. Years from now she would probably think back to this moment and laugh at how overwhelmed she’d been at a handful of simple orders—she knew this, because she wasn’t going to give up. She knew things would be bumpy at the start, even if it was a bit more than she’d expected, and she knew that it wouldn’t be quite so hard once Héctor was home.

Several days later the orders were done and paid for, and the money came in. And sure enough, so did Héctor’s earnings. It still didn’t quite make up for the cost of starting the business, but that was okay—she could manage like this for a bit longer until more money came through. She could keep going until Héctor returned.

But as the weeks wore on, so did the tour.

“Don’t worry, mi amor, I’ll be back for Dia de Muertos.”

Dia de Muertos passed. Imelda lit candles for Héctor’s parents alongside the ones for her own relatives, and went back to work on her orders.

“It really shouldn’t be for much longer. I’ll definitely be there before my birthday.”

His birthday passed. Imelda and Coco wrote him birthday wishes and mailed them off to him.

“I’ll put my foot down this time. I’ll take the train home, and be there before Las Posadas.”

Las Posadas, Nochebuena, and Navidad all passed, and the letters had stopped coming.

When she and Coco came to stay at her parents’ place over the holiday (and after she managed to get away from explaining the shoe-making process to her brothers for the dozenth time), her mother drew her aside. “No man with any respect for his family skips Navidad,” she said. There was a long pause, as Imelda struggled for the words to say. “I told you this would happen event—”

“He’s coming back,” Imelda snapped back, and that was the end of it. She didn’t speak with her mother for the rest of her time there, and the next day, she and Coco went home.

Imelda was just getting back to her work orders when Coco stepped up to her. “When is Papá coming back?” she asked, and Imelda paused.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, staring at the shoes numbly. In all honesty, she’d answered her mother out of sheer stubbornness, though she knew that there had been some truth to her mamá’s words.

He’d said he would be home. He’d said he would put his foot down, and take the train home.

That was the last he’d said.

As she mulled it over, a worry came over her—what if he had taken the train, but something had happened?

The next opportunity she got, she headed for the train station, demanding to see the records of the passengers from Mexico City to Santa Cecilia. After a bit of prodding, the workers at the station relented, and she scoured the records for any mention of Héctor’s name, starting from the day he’d sent the letter and onward.

Nothing.

He’d never boarded the train, like he said he would. That meant one of two things: he’d changed his mind, or he’d been lying, and she wasn’t sure which was worse.

Imelda found herself partially saddened and partially angry at the thought, but there was another worry that gnawed at her: if he wasn’t sending letters, he wasn’t sending earnings, either. While part of her was angry at herself for thinking about money when her husband was surely the more important thing, she reminded herself firmly that their daughter was important, too. And even if Imelda could go without dinner every day, Coco could not.

So later that night, after tucking Coco in and after making some last-minute touches on her current orders, she did not immediately go to bed. Instead she sat at her desk with a pen and paper and began to work out the budget for her meager savings and earnings.

With the cost requirement for her shoemaking supplies combined with the cost for food, the money she made was simply not enough to cover both. The supplies were too important—she needed them to carry out the business. Feeding Coco was important as well, and making her go without a meal was unthinkable.

Two hours into the night, Imelda could find no other solution—she would have to limit her own meals again. She’d been learning to deal with going hungry in the evening, and she could learn to deal with a little less food. (Or she could ask her parents for help, but that would mean admitting she was wrong and that she could not take care of her family, which she refused to do.)

As the weeks went on, her limited budget and limited meals wore on her more than she’d anticipated. She was finding herself growing more and more tired, but people were pleased with her work, and the orders kept coming in. This should have meant more money, but she couldn’t keep up with the orders on her own, and the work continued to pile up.

And to twist the knife, Coco was still asking about Héctor.

“Why hasn’t he sent a letter, Mamá?” “Can you read me another letter?” “When is he coming home?”

When, indeed.

The thought made her angrier the more she thought about it—why hadn’t he come home? Why would he stop sending the letters? Stop sending money? Did he not care if Coco starved? Did he truly care more about his stupid friend, his stupid tour, his stupid music more than his family?

Imelda tried to put the thoughts out of her head—she had to focus on Coco and shoes right now. She had to, or there was no way she would survive.

But surviving was getting harder. It seemed sometimes that no matter how much work she did, it never got any easier, and the pile of orders never grew smaller. She was making shoes, ordering supplies, shopping, making food, and taking care of Coco, and it felt like it never ended.

At least before, relief would come in the form of Héctor’s letters—until she got to the parts stating that his tour was being extended yet again. Now she didn’t even have that, and instead of the thought of her husband bringing her joy, it brought her anger. That no-good músico—how could he leave her and Coco like this?! But… fine. If that cabrón thought he didn’t need her anymore, fine. She didn’t need him anymore, either, and she could take care of this business and raise Coco all on her own.

Imelda let her anger fuel her. It was all she had left.

But even stubbornness and anger were no match for the slow, steady stream of trouble that continued to chip away at her. Deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before she would finally crack.

One day she sat at her work table, eyelids drooping as she worked on a pair of wingtips that was giving her trouble. They never had before, but in her exhaustion she’d made a mistake with the leather and had to start over on the left shoe. Even though she’d gone for some time with her adjusted diet, she still felt hunger gnawing at her—the eggs she’d had this morning didn’t make up for her small lunch and skipped dinner. On top of that, she found herself nodding off—sleeping through the night on an empty stomach was never easy—and had to constantly force herself to focus. She was so tired, and so hungry, but these shoes weren’t going to finish themselves, and money wasn’t going to keep coming in the mail.

No thanks to that no-good, stupid musi—

“Mamá, when is Papá coming home?”

The half-finished shoe struck against the table with a bang, followed by loud clattering noises as several tools fell to the floor.

“He’s not coming home, Coco!”

Imelda was standing, though she couldn’t remember getting up, and her mind didn’t immediately register the expression on her daughter’s face as she went on: “That man does not care about us anymore, and he is never coming home!”

It took her a moment to realize that Coco was taking several steps backward, eyes wide and hands covering her mouth. She then realized that she’d shouted at her daughter, and had struck the table, and had been glaring down at her, and—

Fiery anger was quickly drowned out by the cold numbness of shock. “Mija—”

“No!” Coco cried, taking a more deliberate step back and shaking her head. “Papá said he was coming home! He is! He’s going to come back!”

Angry tears stung at Imelda’s eyes, and she tried to keep them away. Stupid musician, look what you’ve done to your daughter, sending her those letters and making her hold onto a foolish hope for so long…! She shook her head, and she spoke again, not quite as harshly as before: “That man lied to you, mija. He stopped sending letters months ago. He’s not coming back.”

“No! No!” And Coco bolted, running past Imelda and out the door. “PAPA!”

“Coco!” Imelda cried, turning to run after her, only to step on one of the tools she’d knocked off the table and fall to the ground. She dropped to her knees and caught herself on her hands, scraping both palms against the floor, and shakily rose to her feet. The world seemed to spin for a moment at the thought that she’d lost her husband, and she couldn’t lose her daughter, too.

Fighting against the pain in her knees, she rushed out the door and looked around the courtyard, but Coco was nowhere in sight. Furthermore, the gate had been pushed open, just enough for a small child to get through.

“COCO!” Imelda shouted, yanking the gate open and looking down the road one way, then another.

She didn’t have to search long; a short distance down the road, Óscar and Felipe were crouched down, trying their best to soothe a sobbing and frantic Coco. Imelda heaved deep sigh, grateful that her brothers had apparently decided to pay her a visit today.

She walked toward the three at a careful pace, wary of making Coco run off again. As she got closer, she could make out some of the words her daughter was babbling: “G-gonna be back… o-o-on the train… s-s-said he’d be…”

Felipe was the first to look up at Imelda, giving her a questioning look as he rubbed Coco’s back. She only shook her head—she didn’t want to talk to them about this while Coco was there to hear. Seeming to sense this, Felipe wordlessly nudged Óscar, who patted his niece’s back before standing up.

While Felipe picked up Coco, Óscar approached Imelda, looking her up and down. He seemed to note the scuff marks on her apron and red patches on the heels of her hands, but his gaze lingered on her face. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

In spite of the shame she felt in her chest, she refused to look away from Óscar’s gaze. “I… I snapped at Coco,” she admitted, hating the way her voice was beginning to waver.

“She wanted to go to the train station,” Óscar said, looking back to Felipe, who was bouncing Coco around. The little girl gave a soft, tired giggle. “I… guess she thinks Héctor will be there.”

“He won’t be,” Imelda said, finally turning away. “He never will be.”

Seconds later, she felt Óscar’s hand on her shoulder. “You’re working too hard, hermana. Don’t think no one’s noticed.” He paused. “…Even Coco.”

Imelda gave a start, glancing over her shoulder.

Óscar nodded. “She told us that you told her that… that adults don’t need to eat as much as little niñas.”

“It’s true,” she said, looking her brother in the eye. “Coco’s a growing girl.” But, seeing his unconvinced look, she heaved a sigh. “I’ve been cutting some of my own meals. But I’ll be all right, once I earn enough money to—”

“How long have you been going like this?”

Imelda paused, not because she didn’t want to answer, but because she’d been doing it for so long she’d legitimately forgotten when she’d started. It wasn’t after the letters stopped—no, it was sometime before that, when… “…Since I started the business.”

“Imelda!” Óscar cried, throwing out his arms. Some distance behind him, Felipe and Coco looked up in surprise before her brother quickly went back to distracting her. “You’re going to kill yourself like this!”

“You’re one to talk!” Imelda snapped. “I can’t count the times you two would get hurt from your absurd experiments!”

Óscar flinched back, arms wrapped around his middle. “W-we’re just… worried about you,” he said, looking away. “You… you haven’t been yourself since Héctor left.”

Slowly she realized that she’d snapped at someone, again, and rubbed at her forehead. “…Lo siento,” she said, heaving a sigh. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“It’s okay,” he said, though his tone didn’t say the same. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him motion to Felipe, who came closer. “Listen, um… We weren’t sure if this was the right time, but—”

“—Óscar and I were thinking,” Felipe went on. “Mamá and Papá have been wanting us to get a job for ourselves, and we’re—”

“—both very interested in the whole shoe-making process.” Now Óscar was starting to perk up. “You won’t have to—”

“—teach us much, since we’ve already—”

“—memorized it from what you told us.”

“Just need to watch it a few times.”

“Two.”

“Or three.”

“And then we could join you!” they finished.

Coco, still in Felipe’s arms, giggled at the two’s back-and-forth speech. She still had dried tear stains on her face.

Imelda looked from her daughter to her brothers, thinking this through. Her brothers would be two more mouths to feed, but she knew they spoke the truth when they insisted they were fast learners. If they could help her with work, she could finish the orders faster, and take on more orders at once… meaning more pay. Meaning she might not have to skip meals any longer.

It was hard, knowing that Héctor would probably never come back, but…

Looking at her two brothers staring at her eagerly and her daughter looking up at them, she knew—that musician may have abandoned her, but her family had not.

She was going to be okay.

[damleon24]

Blusas

This essay appeared in the January 2018 Issue of under the gum tree. 

Digital: https://www.underthegumtree.com/digitalissues/issue-26-january-2018-digital

Print: http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/1383639

I recently asked my mami for one of the traditional Mexican blouses that she wore when I was younger (by which I mean pestered her for weeks). She said she didn’t have any (by which she meant I shouldn't be wearing women’s clothing).

She had accepted my queer inclinations when they were jokes, when she needed a best friend. Now they were costing her a son, her first son, and that she could not allow. 

When she gave me a very final no, I asked my Abuelita Ofelia. She nodded excitedly and said she’d put them away in the garage. She came back with the clear plastic bag that once held my mami’s wedding dress; it was covered in dust and cracked. Inside were six white shirts that seemed to glow. I gave the smallest to Bianca, my twelve-year-old cousin. 

It looks funny, she told me. 

Try it on, I said. I put on the biggest of the shirts to encourage her. Bianca laughed at me and pulled on the shirt. 

Te ves bonita, Abuelita told her. Bianca looked like a vision from heaven: the white shirt hung loosely around her torso, and her dark skin and hair shone all the more for the contrast. 

I can’t wear it. It’s weird. 

I told her of all the hipster white girls that wore traditional Indigenous and Mexican clothing as fashion statements. They felt comfortable wearing Mexican femininity as a performance piece while Mexican girls and women were denied the freedom (I wondered where that left me). 

I can’t wear it, she told me again. That made two of us. 

My family went to Mexico every year when I was small. My papi used the trips as opportunities to instill his Mexican machismo, he and my uncles tried to take me out into the fields to do “trabajo de hombre”. They wanted to show me how to foster life in those fields, that you could tell good dirt by the color. They made a show of including me in their drinking circles and offering cerveza. 

Cuantas novias tienes, they would ask to try to develop my identity around how many mujeres I was playing. 

Si te hablan patras las madreas. Part of being a man was keeping mujeres (and femininity) in check. 

I always found opportunities to slip away while they weren’t watching. I ran across the dirt street and around the corner to my Bisabuela Julia’s yard. There I’d find her sitting in the sun with an extra chair for me though no one had warned her of my coming. 

Sientate, she’d say. 

She’d sit quietly and look at me. I was convinced that her life had moved from her body and into her eyes; they were a brown that would have grown enough crops to feed all of Mexico. 

When I shied away from her gaze she would start speaking. 

No eres comos los otros niños. Her voice wheezed out between coughs. Hoye me, mijo. Each word sounded so fragile that it should be wrapped up for safe keeping (now shattered and lost). Yet her stories were long and heavy. She spoke of when my father was young, when my grandfather was young, and when her hands were strong enough to support all the hombres that relied on her. 

I took to rubbing Abuela Julia’s hands while listening to her stories. They were bony and weak. Her skin was dark brown and as thin as her breathing. She always sat in the sun with a reboso around her head and shoulders. 

During one of our last talks, she said she wanted to rub my hands. I rested my arm on her leg as she took my left hand in both of hers. Her touch was so soft that it tickled, but I tried not to pull away. I slowly put more effort into holding my arm up because she rearranged her leg under the weight. She laughed and pushed my chubby arm back down onto her leg. 

I’m trying to read the story in your hands, she told me. Quieto.

She passed away a few years ago. I never learned her story. Never saw it in her hands. The same men she always talked about had little if anything to say about her. I love my Abuela Julia, but I resented that she’d never told me about her life. Yet my Abuela had given me femininity, and her story rested in it. 

The traditional Mexican blouse is cotton and of varying styles and cut, but they all share detailed embroidery. My Abuelita is from Michoacán, and the blouses her side of the family wears are in the style of the P'urhépecha people. The material is a non-stretchable white cotton or linen, and the embroidery is thick along the collar or and chest. Each blouse has a mosaic of flowers, animals, or patterns derived from Indigenous cultures; and all of the shirts are embroidered by hand. The shirts and the skills to weave them are passed down from other to daughter, so these blouses are labors of love. 

My mami and tia wore them on special occasions when it was acceptable to be proud of being Mexican and feminine, but through the years my family shifted into the “normalcy” of Americanness. Other Mexican families loved the Salinas Rodeo and Cinco De Mayo festivals. They celebrated Dia De Los Muertos and the Posadas. Often these cultural events were left to mujeres to organize, but my mami was raised American. She didn’t know how to celebrate these events, so my family did none of these. 

My papi tried to push both Mexican pride and machismo onto me, so they became tied together. Mexican culture was masculine; it was violent; and it was everything I hated about my life. The only time my papi seemed happy with me was when I wore boots and a cowboy hat with him. He didn’t smile, but a deadpan expression and calm voice were better than the usual scowl and yell. 

Te ves como hombre. (As if the appearance might make it true.)

My mami allowed me to be emotional and feminine. She often told me that I was her best friend, and both a son and daughter to her. I was twelve when my sister was born, and I often watched her while my mami ran errands. 

She’s going to think you’re her mom, she would joke. I needed the affection that I thought was tied to being American and the freedom to express myself how I wished. 

Eventually, even my mami tried to shut down my femininity. She appreciated it when I was her support system, when she was raising her best friend. I guess she thought that at some point I’d grow out of it. That I would be an hombre, the femininity a phase she could tell girlfriends about. 

She still asks my opinion on hairstyles and outfits. She still relies on the femininity she gave me when it’s useful, but she wants me to live up to my papi’s expectations. My femininity has outlived the laughs, she only ever looks uncomfortable when I try on blusas or rebosos. 

Don’t be dumb, she tells me when I mention wanting to wear feminine clothing and wanting a man more than I want to be one. 

After graduating from college I moved to San Francisco for an internship. Up until that point I didn’t think of myself as queer. I knew that I wasn’t straight, but I fit into the messy idea of “men” at Vassar. In San Francisco, some men brought attention to my style of dress and painted nails. Others asked me what my favorite bar in The Castro was like I’d know gay spaces I’d never been near. 

It took coming home to Salinas to figure out that I just didn’t fit the world’s idea of masculinity anymore. The space that made me so comfortable in my Mexican identity now made me scared for my feelings of gender. Some boys in a class subbed for caught me crying and didn’t speak to me again. A man avoided shaking my hand when he saw my nails. Another man in the gym saw me wearing just tights and said, I thought we were friends. 

Even worse, people read me as white or American more often. The woman at the Mexican corner store that I’d shopped at my whole life refused to speak Spanish to me. Students pronounced my name in English and tried to hide things from me by talking Spanish. Few people I spoke to believed that I’d grown up in Salinas. My queerness marked me as other, as non-Mexican.

There is no way to identify with my chosen gender in Spanish, yet I know that I’m not an hombre by the standards of Mexican culture. Hijo, Maestro. These terms are attempts to give me strength perceived in machismo, but the languages rigid gendered forms erase the strength in my femininity. I was taught how to survive by women, and when I let people refer to me by masculine terms I let my Abuela’s stories slip away. 

Others do not see the violence in the words. It’s normal for them, and the language demands it. 

I’m reminded of my papi’s lessons. 

Don’t talk back to your madre, o te voy a madrear. The word swallows the person that loves me most, replacing her with my papi’s fists and how these words are inadequate. 

I tried on my Abuelita’s shirts when I was alone. I wanted to see myself wrapped in the stories of the mujeres that raised me. The embroidery told me what words had never managed: the mujeres in my family had survived and prayed and built. The material was tight around my chest and hung loosely around my arms and belly. My collarbone looked amazing in the low cut collar, and the swaying blouse gave an elegance to my love handles. The white linen made my dark brown eyes shine as bright as my Abuela Julia’s. 

That femininity would not be accepted by hombres at Mexican festivals where there are no words for my reflection. Still, my Abuela Ofelia offered her blouses to me when I asked. 

Machismo created a limited language, but that never stopped mujeres’ ability to pass on their stories. Mujeres never stopped surviving and fighting and creating. They never stopped loving. 

The people who raised me where both Mexican and feminine. I cannot give up either. 

[newsfact]

Alec Baldwin speaks in public for first time amid ongoing ‘Rust’ movie set shooting investigation

Alec Baldwin spoke out amid the ongoing “Rust” movie shooting investigation Saturday.

Baldwin, 63, spoke to photographers in Vermont where he said he is cooperating with police and has been speaking to them every day. Baldwin maintained that he could not speak on the active investigation.

“It’s an active investigation in terms of a woman died, she was my friend,” Baldwin said.

“We were a very, very well-oiled crew shooting a film together, and then this horrible event happened,” he added.

Baldwin admitted the fatal shooting on the set is a “one in a trillion event.”

“There are incidental accidents on film sets from time to time, but nothing like this,” he said. “This is a one in a trillion episode. It’s a one in a trillion event.”

Baldwin said he is “extremely interested” in limiting the use of firearms on set following the fatal incident.

“But remember, how many bullets have been fired in films and TV shows in the last 75 years. This is America,” Baldwin said. “How many bullets have gone off in movies and on TV sets before? How many, billions in the last 75 years? And nearly all of it without incident. So what has to happen now is, we have to realize that when it does go wrong and it’s this horrible, catastrophic thing, some new measures have to take place. Rubber guns, plastic guns, no live — no real armaments on set. That’s not for me to decide. It’s urgent that you understand I’m not an expert in this field, so whatever other people decide is the best way to go in terms of protecting people’s safety on film sets, I’m all in favor of and I will cooperate with that in any way that I can.”

Baldwin and his wife Hilaria exited their car to speak to photographers. (Fox News Digital)

Baldwin and his wife Hilaria had been on the road before making the impromptu press conference. The actor pulled over and agreed to talk to photographers if he could have some space.

Baldwin discharged a gun on the set of “Rust” in New Mexico on Oct. 21, killing cinematographer Halyna Hutchins and injuring director Joel Souza. Assistant director Dave Halls had told Baldwin that the gun was a “cold gun,” meaning “not hot” or unloaded, after armorer Hannah Gutierrez Reed had placed the gun on a cart on set.

Prop master Sarah Zachry also handled the gun before the fatal shooting, according to a search warrant executed by the Santa Fe Sheriff’s Office.

Alec Baldwin and his wife Hilaria were spotted enjoying drinks at a bar in a small ski town Friday night.

HILARIA BALDWIN DRIVES HUSBAND ALEC AROUND IN POSH SKI TOWN AFTER DEADLY ‘RUST’ SHOOTING

During his impromptu press conference, the actor discussed limiting the use of firearms on movie sets moving forward. (Fox News Digital)

Earlier Friday, Hilaria was seen driving Baldwin around the small town. At one point, she exited the car to pump gas. The author and yoga instructor attempted to shield her face from photographers as the couple tried to maintain a low profile amid the ongoing investigation of the shooting that took place on Baldwin’s “Rust” movie set.

Later, Hilaria was spotted sans Baldwin as she stopped at a local Italian market to pick up groceries. The family’s nanny accompanied her.

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Baldwin appears to have been in the New England area since Monday afternoon when he was spotted at the same Italian market that Hilaria shopped at Friday.

He was previously spotted getting breakfast Sunday morning with Hutchins’ husband and son at the La Posada hotel in New Mexico.

Baldwin discharged a gun on the set of “Rust” in New Mexico on Oct. 21, killing cinematographer Halyna Hutchins and injuring director Joel Souza. Assistant director Dave Halls had told Baldwin that the gun was a “cold gun,” meaning “not hot” or unloaded, after armorer Hannah Gutierrez Reed had placed the gun on a cart on set.

Prop master Sarah Zachry also handled the gun before the fatal shooting, according to a search warrant executed by the Santa Fe Sheriff’s Office.

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP

The Santa Fe County Sheriff’s Department is still investigating the incident and said it was “too early” to comment on potential charges during a press conference Wednesday. However, Sheriff Adan Mendoza has since referred to the department’s efforts as a “criminal investigation.”

“I’d be careful using the word ‘accident,'” Mendoza said during an appearance Thursday on “Fox & Friends.”

“This is obviously a tragedy and it was avoidable, so right now it’s a criminal investigation.”

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[iishipallthethings]

The Wager Chapter 16

Story Summary:  Another Day of the Dead is finally here. La Muerte goes to the land of the living and is shocked to see Maria, the jewel of the town, unsatisfied with her marriage with Manolo. Another wager is struck and La Muerte finds herself falling hard for a human. 1 year after movie! Main ship: Maria X La Muerte (kind of slow burn) but there is another :)

Chapter title:I’m Sorry

Coffee?

It was now the Day of the Dead. Mary wanted nothing more than to disappear into her castle but Maria had specifically asked her to come with her and the others. Mary could not say no.

So she was standing outside Maria’s mansion, knocking on the door with one hand and clenching a bouquet of roses in the other. She waited a minute before Joaquin opened the door. He smiled at Mary and beckoned the woman inside. He was wearing a very stained apron, however the uniform underneath was as pristine as always.

“We’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes,” he said, leading her towards the kitchen. “We’re making some traditional foods for our families and it got a little out of hand.” Joaquin’s eye caught sight of the roses. “Whose are those for? Maria said you don’t have family here.” His eye fell to the floor as he gave an embarrassed cough. “Sorry, I just meant,”

“It’s okay, Joaquin,” Mary interrupted his unnecessary apology. “They’re for General Posada, Maria’s father.”

Before Joaquin could respond and possibly make the situation more awkward, the smell of food drifted over to them. They entered the kitchen and Mary stopped in her tracks.

The entire place looked as if a tornado had passed through it. There was batter splatter on several places on the walls and the sink held a precariously tilted stack of dirty dishes. Mary was somewhat surprised to see that the counter where the three had placed finished plates of food to be clear of any mess. Mary spotted Maria bent over to grab a metal sheet from the oven, warm loafs of bread perfectly cooked to a nice brown situated on them. There were three different types of bread, or rather it was apparent that three different people made the same type. Joaquin’s came out the best with noone being surprised. Maria’s was a bit lumpy, along with Manolo’s, but they still looked good.

Maria grinned at Mary and took off her oven mitts after setting the bread down to cool. “Mary, we weren’t expecting you for half an hour.” Without hesitating, she pulled Mary into a hug, turning her head to kiss her cheek.

“I know, but I couldn’t stay in that apartment for another moment.” It was true. Since she received the page from Xibalba a month ago, Mary had been restless. Her mind was constantly wondering back to how that future could possibly occur and how it could be avoided. Like before, Maria had noticed and asked if Mary wanted to talk about it. Mary had declined, fearing that talking about the page or even trying to give a half truth would cause everything to spiral out of control. Maria had relented but her patience only made Mary’s heart ache more.

It took another half an hour to clean the kitchen, even with Mary helping. Chuy tried to help as best as he could, like licking off the splatters from the walls where he could reach. Joaquin tried to chase him out but as soon as he turned around, Chuy would dash back in to lick at another splatter. After five times of chasing the pig out only for him to run back in, Joaquin gave up and left the pig to happily lap at the batter on the walls. He did vow to wash the entire kitchen once over when they came back, earning laughter from the other three. The cleaning gave the bread more than enough time to cool down enough to safely transport. The four people and Chuy headed out of the mansion and made their way to the cemetery.

Other families joined their journey and soon there was a steady river of people walking and holding their offerings. Mary felt some stares from people when they noticed she only held a bouquet of roses. She almost somewhat jokingly told Maria that she should slip away and get some other offerings but the river became several streams as they passed under the archway to San Angel’s cemetery.

Joaquin, Manolo, and Maria split away from each other, the three heading to their respective family graves. Mary and Chuy followed Maria as she strolled to her father’s grave. Mary could not help but recall how Maria had looked at the last Day of the Dead. She was glad that Maria seemed much happier and that she had a hand in creating that happiness.

Mary and Chuy stopped a few feet away from the grave, giving Maria some privacy to place the offerings in front of the grave. Afterwards, Maria closed her eyes and tried to feel her deceased father’s presence. Mary saw General Posada stand next to his daughter, lifting a hand to rest on her arm in a comforting gesture. The corners of Maria’s lips tilted up in a small smile, somehow knowing that her father was with her.

“You can come closer, you know,” Maria told Mary and Chuy, opening one eye to look at them.

The two walked to the grave, keeping respectfully silent. Mary laid her bouquet of roses in front of the statue. She studied the statue more closely, trying to ignore the fact that she could see General Posada standing not five feet away from her.

“He was a good man,” Maria whispered. “I know most daughters say that about their fathers, but he truly was a good man. He helped build the town’s brigade to stop Chakal and his bandits from raiding the town.” She nodded towards the hook that replaced General Posada’s hand. “He even gave up his left hand to protect this town and its people.” A few tears budded in Maria’s eyes but she made no move to wipe them away. “Even though it hurt him, he sent me away to Arroba to become a proper lady. It took me so long to realize that he only did it because he thought it would be best for me. It would have been safest for me to be a proper lady.” Maria chuckled. “But I have his blood. I could never be a proper lady. I was a fighter, just like him.”

Mary, not caring who might have been glancing at them, wrapped an arm securely around Maria’s shoulders. “He’s proud of you.”

“How do you know?” Maria’s question had some humor in it but it also shined with her curiosity.

Mary shrugged. “I just do. Any father that has a daughter like you can only be proud.”

The two women listened to the people around them talking quietly but happily, feeling their deceased relatives coming from the Land of the Remembered to visit them. Several children, the same ones from the previous year in fact, were running about in a game of tag. Mary could see Carmelo waving at her from a few tombstones away to where Manolo’s family was. She had to resist the urge to wave back. Mary looked back and noticed that General Posada was watching her, a frown on his face. This took her aback but she schooled her features.

After seven minutes, Maria looked over at Manolo, unable to see his family standing around him. “I should be the dutiful wife and see if he needs anything.”

“I thought the husband was supposed to check up on the wife,” Mary teased. She heard General Posada huff in annoyance at her.

“I’ll be back soon,” Maria said, sneaking a kiss on Mary’s cheek before moving towards Manolo.

Chuy glanced between the statue and Maria and decided to trot after the woman, giving a bey of goodbye to Mary.

Mary watched and once she was sure they were out of earshot, she looked at General Posada. Now that his daughter was not in the vicinity, he fully glared at Mary. She glanced away, almost ashamed, before meeting his gaze again.

“I don’t care that you’re La Muerte in disguise,” General Posada said evenly. “If you hurt my daughter I swear I’ll,” he continued in a mutter that Mary could not understand but the message was quite clear.

A flash of the illustration passed in her mind’s eye. That damn page was never far from her mind. She turned her head to look at Maria and Manolo laughing at something, but the laughter was tinged with sadness. She looked back at General Posada. “Can I have your blessing,” she asked suddenly, unaware that the words were out of her mouth until she heard her own voice asking the question.

“No.” There was a frankness to the answer that shocked both Mary and General Posada. It shocked General Posada because he had refused a goddess’s request and it shocked Mary because of the swiftness he gave his answer.

“Why?” Mary had to know. She was afraid of the answer, she knew what it was, but she had to know.

General Posada gave her a quick glare  as if she was a teenager caught out late with his daughter and not the ruler of the realm he presided in. “Because what you’re doing is wrong.” He waved his hooked hand to his daughter. “You’ve been lying to her this entire time. Even before you two started seeing each other.”

“I had to,” Mary replied.

It was General Posada’s turn to ask, “Why?” The expression he gave her made it clear that whatever excuse she could possibly give was not going to be enough.

Mary almost did not answer. At first she had no excuse. Her wager with Xibalba had all but won, she made Maria happy as she could and she was happy as well. Xibalba had left her and now she was free to explore her feelings with Maria. All in all the only reason why she had not told Maria she was La Muerte was because she was afraid. And she blamed that twice damned page.

Just as she was about to open her mouth to explain herself, General Posada continued. “If you truly care for my little girl, maybe even love her, you’ll tell her the truth.” With that, Posada left the realm of the living.

Mary stared at the spot that General Posada had previously occupied for a minute. She looked back at Maria and noticed that she had ended the conversation with Manolo and was heading back over to her. Mary glanced around the area, hoping that Posada would return as his daughter neared. When it became evident that he wouldn’t, she knew she had to tell Maria the truth.

“Sorry that I was gone for so long, Mary,” Maria said. There was only happiness in her eyes and Mary felt cold. She leaned against her lover, looking back up at the statue of her father. She sensed something was amiss with Mary and looked at her. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” Maria whispered the last bit and it stung Mary more than she expected.

“I need to show you something,” Mary answered. She took one last gaze at the statue before leading Maria away from the cemetery. Luckily, the families around them were too busy celebrating and praying to notice the two women slipping away.

Mary and Maria did not exchange any words as they walked. Maria was growing more and more concerned as Mary led her first through the town and than out on the bridge leading away. Finally, the two stopped in front of the old tree.

“What’s going on, Mary?” Maria asked. Her instincts told her she didn’t want the answer but she was going to get it nonetheless.

Instead of answering, Mary kissed Maria. Soon she backed Maria against the tree, her heart hammering in her chest in desire and fear. Mary broke the kiss, studying Maria’s eyes. There was desire in them too, so much that Mary was enticed to go back to the apartment and forget all of today. However, there was a burning curiosity in them too, and Mary knew she could not leave this place until she told Maria what was in her mind.

“Please,” Mart begged, her voice trembling, “please understand why I did it.”

“Did what?” Now there was fear in Maria’s voice as she stared back at Mary, the desire and endearment still present in her eyes. She probably thought whatever Mary had to tell her was some dark secret but nothing that could split them apart. Mary prayed to whatever god that could hear her that Maria was right.

Mary kissed her desperately one more time. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, her forehead pressed against Maria’s.

Maria did as she was asked and Mary took a few steps back. She tried to snap her fingers but she was too nervous that no sound was made. Mary had to try again before a sound rang out, much louder than what should have been produced.

“Open them,” La Muerte said.

Maria frowned at the change in voice but her gut told her it was still Mary. A part of her wanted to keep her eyes closed, to tell Mary to stop whatever trick she must be playing. Still, her eyes fluttered open and then gaped wide at the goddess standing before her. For a miraculous second, Maria thought Mary must have somehow used makeup and changed her clothes to look like La Muerte. She appeared different than when Maria remembered seeing her two years ago. The eyes were much dimmer and the marigold flowers in her hair were dull, like they were on the cusp of dying. But there was no denying that this was indeed La Muerte, the ruler of the Land of the Remembered.

“I don’t understand,” Maria finally said, taking a step back. Her eyes dashed around, searching for Mary even as her heart told her she wouldn’t find her. She focused back on the goddess. “Where’s Mary?”

La Muerte looked saddened for a moment before replying. “I think you already know, Maria.” She said the name like a lover would and everything fell into place in Maria’s mind.

“What? You, you can’t be Mary!” Maria exclaimed. She could feel the panic raise inside her, along with betrayal. She searched into La Muerte’s eyes and gasped as she recognized them. They were different to be sure, but they held the same fondness as did Mary’s.

“Maria, please, listen to me,” La Muerte said, seeing Maria accepted the truth of her identity. “I didn’t want to lie to you.” She took a step forward, intent on pulling Maria into her arms like she’s done a hundred times before. Maria took a step back, holding up a hand and stopping La Muerte without having to say a word.

“Why?” Maria asked, tears welling in her eyes.

“I had a wager with Xibalba,” La Muerte began.

“Another one!?” Maria yelled out, cutting La Muerte off before she could get another word out. “How could you?” She gestured between them. “Were you - this entire time did you - did this mean nothing to you? Was this just some sort of sick kick for you?”

“No!” La Muerte tried to take a step forward again and Maria took a few steps back. Each one hurt as if Maria had struck her. “The wager was if I could make you happy.” The words were wrong, she saw that in Maria’s eyes. “I only meant to be your friend but then I fell for you, Maria. I wanted to tell you the truth for so long. Please, I lov-”

Maria shook her head wildly, her eyes now angry even as several tears fell. “Don’t! Don’t you dare tell me you love me after all you’ve done.” She shook her head again, hands coming up to grip at her locks, her vision blurry as she recalled every moment she spent with Mar- no La Muerte, and all of them tarnishing at this confession. Maria stilled and looked up at La Muerte, fear now the main emotion on her face. “Xibalba, you’re married to Xibalba!”

“Yes but we’re not together anymore. You don’t have to fear him,” La Muerte tried to console Maria. “I will never let him harm you,” she vowed.

Maria saw some of the fire return to La Muerte’s eyes and could not help but sense the truth in those words. It was a small comfort, but nowhere big enough.

La Muerte saw the walls start to come up around Maria’s heart. In a last ditch effort, she flashed forward in a cloud of marigold petals. Too fast for Maria to stop her if she wished, La Muerte pressed their lips together. She poured everything into the kiss, all her love for the woman in front of her, all the happiness that Maria made her feel, and all the hope for their future.

SMACK!

Maria gaped at her own hand after it had smacked against La Muerte’s face, ending the kiss instantly. She turned her eyes up to the goddess, her face pale and her body slightly trembling. When La Muerte reached out for her, surely to punish her for attacking, Maria gave a trembling gasp of fear and held up her hands instinctively.

The illustration.

“No,” La Muerte whispered in despair. Her arms went limp at her sides as she looked at the horror on Maria’s face at what she had just done. At the fear of La Muerte retaliating. “I won’t hurt you. Please, mi amor, don’t be afraid of me.”

Maria flinched at the words ‘mi amor’ and La Muerte felt her heart break. “I never want to see you again.” With that, she turned and ran away.

La Muerte only watched her go, a hand pressed against her throbbing cheek.

[nickgerlich]

Dining Car Blues

Two of the coolest family road trips I took as a kid weren’t on the road at all. They were by train, and, in both instances, from Chicago to Amarillo. My mother had family living here at the time, and little did I know then that I would wind up living in the area after my university years.

Of course, that was when Amarillo was serviced by passenger rail. The first trip, in the 1960s, was on the famous Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad, while the 1970s trip was on Amtrak. Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed the private compartment for sleeping and the double-decker cars for sightseeing. The clickety-clack of the long passenger cars on those rails provided a rhythmic flow as they swayed gently from side to side.

As for the dining car, it was almost like going to a fancy restaurant. White linen table cloth. Fancy china. Real silver utensils. I felt like my parents had won the lottery.

Amtrak took over the nation’s passenger rail services in 1971, consolidating what had historically been a very unprofitable, albeit mandated, service offering. Freight had always been the profit center for the railroads, but the government thought better. Never mind that Amtrak has been a money-losing entity ever since. I am not exactly sure what the government was thinking, taking over a sinking ship. I think they call that good money chasing bad.

And now comes word that Amtrak, losing more money than ever, is going to eliminate the dining car as we know it on all trains in the eastern US. Say hello to microwaved food and snacks. Whereas the old dining cars often asked passengers to share tables with complete strangers, the newly imagined feeding stations will be more open and airy, and not require people to--you know--have to mingle too much.

The effort is an attempt to woo more Millennial passengers, those people born between 1980 and 1996, and now with enough adulting years under their belts to be able to afford travel that does not include driving all night long to avoid a motel bill. And Millennials are not all that big on fancy schmancy, you know. It’s good if it looks like an artisan somewhere hand-crafted it from unrefined grains and so forth, but only if it is served without pretense.

Which is too bad. I rather like sharing tables with strangers. Call me old fashioned, but I think you broaden your horizons by doing so, and you might just make new friends. But if you’d rather sit in a cheap IKEA chair and play with your phone (because WiFi), knock yourselves out.

Actually, what Amtrak is doing sounds a lot like what Hilton did with its new Millennial-friendly chain, Tru. I have stayed at one before, and I felt like a grandparent chaperone to the young adults slathering Nutella on their multi-grain bagels. To be honest, Tru is how it would look if IKEA went into the hotel business, but the customers did not have to assemble anything. (Check out my photos here.)

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not one of those folks who bashes Millennials for every little thing, or blames them for ruining all the things we hold dear. I’m cool with them. But the dining car on a train? Stop it, please. Passenger rail is on life support as it is; let’s don’t kill it entirely. After all, for us old timers, it is a throwback experience, and one that needs to be done with period accuracy.

I am planning to do a short Amtrak trip from Las Vegas New Mexico to Winslow Arizona, staying at the historic hotels on both ends. La Castaneda just reopened in Las Vegas, and La Posada has been back in business since 1997. Both are owned by husband-wife Allan Affeldt and Tina Mion, who painstakingly oversaw every last aspect of the renovations of these historic Harvey House hotels.

Sure, I could drive, but that is kind of missing the point. These old hotels were originally intended to attract customers from the railroad, not the paved road. And while I doubt there will be a meal on such a short trip, I can at least pretend and reminisce, and then have a fine meal at my destination.

Because everyone should take a train trip at least once, and experience things as they were, not as they are. You can spend the night at Tru if you must do that, and knock yourselves out with the Nutella.

Dr “Train Kept A Rolling“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[gvitarrista-blog]

                                              JUKEBOX HERO 

                                                  ( a manolo sánchez playlist )

“ if music be the food of love, PLAY on. ”

                                                                                     ---- WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 

----- SIDE A

mi credo k-paz de la sierra* i’m on fire bruce springsteen. young blood the naked & famous. lethargy bastille. línea de luz kinki. girls talk boys 5 seconds of summer. friday i’m love the cure. espacio sideral jesse & joy. breezeblocks alt-j. young volcanoes fall out boy. read my mind the killers. do or die 30 seconds to mars. creep radiohead. sympathy for the devil the rolling stones. the kids aren’t alright fall out boy. home edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros.

----- SIDE B

under pressure queen ft. david bowie » ( pressure pushing down on me / pressing down on you no man ask for / under pressure that brings a building down / splits a family in two )

the lyrics right away describe manolo’s situation: born into a middle class family, the sánchez were well-known because of their bullfighting skills. the last name wighed heavy on manolo’s back and thoughts, and it was only a matter of time before the through was let out and disappointment reigned in the streets of san ángel. the young man was no bullfighter -- no, he was no sánchez, according to his father. ever since that dreadful day, he’s lost contact with his family, choosing to be on his own.

viva la vida coldplay. » ( i used to rule the world / seas would rise when i gave the word / now in the morning i sleep alone / sweep the streets i used to own // one minute i held the key / next the walls were closed on me )

here’s how the story goes: madly-in-love couple bring a baby into the world. the mother’s unfortunate demise comes when the boy is seven years old. he is raised to do what his father’s always wanted, and what all the men in the family have become. the boy refuses, ending up becoming disgraced. there was a brief moment where manolo sánchez became san ángel’s golden boy. there was no one else the people wished to see. ‘the best matador’, they’d call him. the signs with pictures of him garnished the old neighborhood’s walls. his name was chanted by children and adults alike. in less than ten minutes, it all went to the sewage. god helped him shall he wished to put a foot back in méxico. all he owned was either lost or left behind in an attempt to start over and redeem himself. 

wrote my way out lin manuel miranda, aloe blacc, dave east and nas » ( i wrote my way out / when the world turned its back on me / i was up against the wall / i had no foundation / no friends and no family to catch my fall )

what manolo aims to do. truly, there isn’t much he’s got to worry about for now. disgraced, aimless -- all the man wants is to fix the messy state he left things back home in.

i’m still standing elton john » ( and did you think this fool could never win / well, look at me, I'm a-coming back again )

a song with encouraging lyrics and an upbeat melody make up a great combination. music being his second biggest crush, songs with such optimistic lyrics, in a way, keep him going. he just hopes he can have an successful enough of a comeback. 

believer american authors » (i’m just a believer that things will get better / some can take it or leave it / but I don't wanna let it go)

damned be his optimist. truly, there’s still a hint of hopeful youth inside the man, one that keeps his spirit from faltering even in the thoughest cases. inside, he does believe changing his father’s mindset is achievable, and that redemption is just within his reach. things always look up, and the youngest of the sánchez men is one to know. 

breathe mandy gonzález  » ( this is my street / i smile at the faces i’ve known all my life / hey regard me with pride / and everyone’s sweet / they say you’re going places // as the radio plays old forgotten boleros / i think of the days when the city was mine / i remember the praise ‘ay the adoro, the quiero’ // what will my parents say? / can i go in there and say / ‘i know that i’m letting you down / just breathe )

one minute, it seemed like manolo sánchez was too great of a man for san ángel. had he decided to become a matador like the rest of his family, not only the city, but surely the world as well, would’ve certainly been his. ‘he has the gift’, his dad has said. however, this was wrong. senseless suffering and killing had no place in manolo’s mind, ultimately going against his dad’s expectations and desires. san ángel turned its back on manolo sánchez. however, the man is a believer in the saying ‘after the storm, comes the rainbow’. it can’t get any worse now, can it? 

warmth bastille » ( hold me in this wild, wild world / ‘cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be / and in your heat I feel how cold it can get )

your song elton john » ( i hope you don’t mind / that i put down in words / how wonderful life is while you’re in the world )

para maría. she’s different. she’s brilliant, and funny, and kind and brave. her eyes, her smile. that little boy fell hard, and he has yet to stop falling. he finds it hard to believe he’s lucky enough to be around her.

house of gold twenty one pilots » ( she asked me son when i grow old / will you buy me a hous eof gold / and when your father turns to stone / will you take care of me ? )

para mamá. for mom.

luck american authors » ( how can we make amends when we said all we said ? / i call and you don't pick up //  i'm sorry, father / i know I let you down / i'm sorry for how I up and left this town / please just listen 'cause I don't ask for much / i am my own man, I make my own luck )

para papá. for dad.

wake me up avicii » ( hey tell me I'm too young to understand / they say I'm caught up in a dream / well life will pass me by if I don't open up my eyes / well that's fine by me )

not only by his father, but also by general posada, manolo constantly felt patronized back at home. was it because he’d refused to take a creature’s life ? was it because he didn’t have brute force like his friend ? was it because his interest in playing an instrument ? whatever the reason was, manolo never had a good relationship with the people back in the city, and he’s not been able to shake off that feeling that they believe he’s still a child. still, he refuses to listen to them. one day, they’ll see. 

wait for it usher » ( love don't discriminate / between the sinners and the saints / it takes and it takes and it takes / and we keep lovin' anyway //   i am the one thing in life I can control /  i am inimitable, I am original //  everyone faces an endless uphill climb / you got something to prove, you got nothing to lose / everyone’s pace is relentless, you waste no time, time  )

firstly, maría. cursed be the young man, he who posses such tender yet passionate heart. it was at a young age that the bright-eyed boy fell for the brunette, and he’s been trying not to drown in the rough waters of love ever since. secondly, the lyrics hit a spot within him, as if they were an encouragement for him to continue pursuing his passion. finally, the lyrics fit like a white glove. the young man hit rock bottom after having disappointed his family. the ai became the only choice, and a good one, if one may add. however, the man is now determined to go back as a victor, hoping to open his father’s eyes & earn his respect once more.

[gravity-hasfallen]

So one of my best friends just made me watch The Book of Life. I’m saying this right now. Stop what you’re doing. Go watch this movie. Not only is it completely fucking adorable, but one of my favourite parts is that it didn’t really have a consistent villain. All the characters who are shown to have a negative impact on the story aren’t really 100% bad guys. They are the results of their upbringing, of their environment, their experiences, their good intentions. The one exception to this, as far as I can tell at this time of night thinking about it, is Chakal, who is shown to be an asshole character but he was brought in at the end of the film to bring everyone together. 

Joaquin has spent his whole life being told that he is a hero and that everyone wants him around, why would they not. So his assumption that Maria would want to be with him is just a carry over from what everyone else has ever shown/told him. He gives her a picture of himself because that has always made other people happy, surely it would make her happy too. 

Xibalba has spent the last who knows how long rotting in the land of the forgotten, a miserable, frozen wasteland. He just wanted out. He truly loved La Muerte, and to be completely honest, to him, humans are just, well, humans. They’re going to die eventually, going to the land of the remembered, and then one day to his wasteland to fade away. If he can toy with one or two of them to get him out of his wasteland then why the heck not? 

General Posada wanted to protect his town and his daughter. He was desperate for Joaquin to stay and provide this more permanent protection, even if it meant being a bit of a dick and trying to push his daughter into a marriage that she was clearly not too sure about. Even though he was an absolute ass for pushing it when he did, with the death of her friend very fresh in her mind (which even Joaquin could see was a dick move and tried to protest a little) he was trying to protect that which was most precious to him. 

Carlos Sanchez wanted the best life for his son and the preservation of a long line of family tradition. Yes, he was also pushy and a lot harsher than he needed to be, but like Maria’s father, was at least in part trying to look out for his son. 

The people who were initially presented as potential villains and caused a lot of the issues in the film weren’t bad characters or people. They were a product of their lives and experiences, and didn’t set out to be bad people. Ok, I guess Xibalba kinda always knew he would cheat if it came down to it, but look where he’s been stuck for hundreds of years, can you really blame him for just wanting to get out? When it came down to it, he wasn’t a bad guy. None of them were. 

Except Chakal. Chakal was always an asshole. 

[hauteseeker]

Seven days in the Southwest solo. How can I describe my experience?

Unexpected. Exhilarating. Fulfilling.

There is so much to cover, so I am breaking down my time spent between the two different states and ten various cities that I visited in two parts.

Let me first start off the introduction to New Mexico by saying this; God made this area. You can see it in the landscape. It’s hard to be in this part of the country and not fathom that a higher power created such a beautiful scenery. My three-day stay in Santa Fe also consisted of travel through the cities of Albuquerque, Madrid, Cuerellos, Abiquqi, and Ojo. During my stay in New Mexico, I was able to experience various parts of this unique ecosystem along with art, people, and individual towns that are indeed one of a kind.

Day One: Albuquerque

The official day of my road trip started on Wednesday, October 10th. I took a late flight out the Tuesday before with the goal of arriving at a decent hour to my Airbnb in Albuquerque. That was not the case. I got about 4 hours sleep at the Airbnb( which was a waste of money) and quickly had to make my way to the festival grounds in time enough to catch a balloon ride.

Let’s backtrack just a little. I went to Albuquerque to attend the International Balloon Fiesta. I stumbled across the festival a couple of years ago and thought it looked amazing and knew I some point in my life I just had to go. It is recommended to get to the fairgrounds early. I didn’t realize I how soon until I hit the entrance. Boom. Traffic. I knew I was not going to let the lack of a ride ruin my trip when my goal was just to be apart of the unique experience anyways.

Waking up at the crack of down to see beautiful balloons rise to the skies was fantastic. During my time there I met some wonderful characters who had a long-standing history with the fiesta. One older woman shared some incredible insight with me. “What other sport in the world can you find that an any and everyone can participate in,” she said. It was true! Men, women, young, old, were walking the festival grounds, refereeing the balloons, and even navigating them that day.

Even though I did not make it into a hot air balloon, just being there was totally worth it. My biggest advice when attending this event is for sure to dress in layers. It is a bit cold that early in the morning in the area. You should also stay a couple of days for the festival if they can, at least one additional day to attend evening events, as well as explore other parts of Albuquerque.

After the balloon fiesta, I had plenty of time to kill before my Airbnb stay in Santa Fe, so I decided to drive the scenic route of Old Route 66 and the Turquoise Trail. The trail is a 50-mile drive along Highway 14 that encompasses small mining towns, authentic restaurants, and eccentric art communities. My first stop was in the city of Madrid. An older artsy community full of land art, small boutiques, and of course, turquoise jewelry. When visiting this town, be sure to stop at some of my favorite little shops:

Shugarman Little Chocolate Shop

Connie’s Photo Park

Ghost Town Trading Post

Jezebel Glass Studio and Sculpture Garden & Soda Fountain

Collaboration

Crystal Dragon

Next, I stopped at the tiny, almost ghost town of Cerrillos. Stop by the Casa Grande Trading Post Museum and Petting Zoo for low-priced raw turquoise and other jewels and gems, One of the last stops where you can find the unique gems for a really good deal before entering Santa Fe. Before departing the town of Cerrillos, I made my way to a saloon and bar with a modern take called Black Bird, a very modern restaurant compared to the others I had seen along the trail. I met the owner and indulged in a delicious Angus burger called the ‘Black Jack Ketchum’, topped with a gun-powder rub, gouda cheese, onion, cilantro, bandit sauce which was some smokey flavor that reminded me of almost a sloppy joe type of taste all served on a kaiser roll. The perfect meal to keep me moving on my way to Santa Fe.

The ride through the Turquoise trail was amazing. I was I had one of those Google cars so I could have had a video of the area around me. It was amazing! So much land art, random bits of it everywhere. If you have time, be sure to stop by the After a long day one, I decided to grab some fast-food grub and chill out the rest of the evening at my cozy Airbnb residence.

Day 2: Ojo and Santa Fe

Day two of my trip kicked off pretty early. I had a spa appointment North of Santa Fe. Before hitting the road I Yelped a spot to grab a quick breakfast burrito. I learned, unlike maybe Chicago’s brunch only burritos, that the compact version in New Mexico is an everyday “thing” there. I stopped at El Chile Toreado and grabbed a breakfast burrito full of mixed meats(polish sausage, chorizo, and bacon) along with potatoes, cheese, and peppers. It was simple and fantastic.

About an hour outside of Santa Fe is Ojo Caliente and it’s well known natural hot springs. The springs at Ojo Caliente feature the only hot springs in the world with four different types of mineral water. The spa waters range between 80 – 109 degrees and are sulfur free. Before diving into the enchanted waters, I first indulged in a lovely spa service. My services included a included a 50-minute Essence of Ojo Custom Massage, a Native American Blue Corn and Prickly Pear Salt Scrub, and reflexology foot therapy all performed by Chris, my therapist for the day. After my fantastic treatment, I made my way to the hot springs and spent the remainder of the afternoon soaking and savoring the majestic surrondings.

Before making my way into the city of Santa Fe, I took a brief detour to the Santa Fe Opera House. Unfortunately, it wasn’t open, but I managed to find a way in and peruse the grounds. The space is absolutely beautiful, I can only imagine what it would be like to attend a play or show here. Also, the views from the opera house on the lustrous hilltop neighborhood are awesome to take in as well.

I made my way back into to town to grab a quick nap and conduct my next moves for the evening. In New Mexico, the traditional and notorious eats contain chile peppers. They are literally everywhere you go. For dinner, I made my way to La Choza, a favorite among locals for its traditional New Mexican cuisine. For dinner at this colorful and casual eatery, I chose the combination plate, which contained a blue corn burrito, carne adovada, and chile relleno, served “Christmas style”( red and green chile). It came with side pinto beans, posole( hominy never had it, but it was great), lettuce and tomato with a side of Sopilla, a puffed bread that essential soaks up the heavy chile sauce. It can also be enjoyed plain or with honey as well. The summary of this dish was heavy and very, very spicy. If you don’t like spicey, get the chile sauce on the side.

During dinner and over a separate drink at a hotel, I had the pleasure of meeting two very interesting fellow travelers. One was a teacher from Indianapolis who used to live in the Chicago area, the other, a producer from L.A in town working on a film, who I met at the trendy LA Posada Hotel during a nightcap. It’s amazing the type of people you can meet over food and drinks when traveling solo. During our conversations, we talked family, creative careers, and of course, Chicago. A great way to conclude my second day in Santa Fe.

  Day 3: Santa Fe

My third day in New Mexico was spent seeking out the art scene in Santa Fe. The first stop was a tour of Museum Hill, a combination of five different museums. I made my way to three, International Folk Art, Museum of Indian Art and Culture, and The Wheelwright Museum of American Indian. Each offered its own unique aspect of history and relevance to the New Mexico area. My favorite out of all three had to be the International Folk Art Museum. It was definitely the most culturally mesmerizing and relatable space that I have ever been too! The museum featured everything from a special exhibition on Tramp Art to global Folk Art in all of its various forms.

After hopping to various museums, I made my way back into the center of town to check out some the iconic Canyon Road and its many galleries along with The Plaza. Canyon Road has 40+ galleries that feature both local and global artists. My favorite was the contemporary ones that featured distinctive and conversational pieces. Some of my favorites that are worth checking out are:

Intrigue Gallery

Corazon

Rockaway Opals 

Santa Kilm

Turner Carroll Gallery

Jim McLain

Mark White Fine Art

McCall Fine Art 

Canyon Road Contemporary 

Pippin Contemporary

Dark Bird Place

Poetic Threads

Robert Nichols Gallery

While along the Plaza, be sure to not only to check out the higher end shops for inspiration but definitely barter for handmade goods with local merchants who hang out outside of the shops at as well. Get a little dose of architecture by checking out the historical churches, Loretto Chapel( climb the staircase if you can I did not have a chance to) and the Cathedral Bascialla of St. Francis Assisi.

  I needed to refuel before making my way to Meow Wolf, so I had dinner in the neighborhood at a spot called tune-up cafe, recommended by my Airbnb host. Tune-up Cafe is a modern take on New Mexican style food. While there, I dined al fresco and watched the sunset on a truly beautiful day and took in my surroundings. The restaurant was full of young families and couples that were composed of a more hipster-ish crowd.

For dinner, I decided to try out their version of Chile Relleno. I had read the reviews beforehand and noticed and just had to try the El Salvadoran Pupusa as an appetizer. I went for the steak flank as a filler.This was my first time having the pupusa and it was fantastic. Light and flakey in taste with killer filling. The steak was well seasoned and contained just enough spice. My main dish of chile relleno was also very good. It was hearty but not too heavy. Very well seasoned and just enough to keep me full as I made my way to my next destination.

Meow Wolf was a completely unexpected experience. It is something that a person has to try out for themselves to get the full experience. It’s one of that artistic endeavors that is made for any and everyone to understand and participate in. No need for Master level analysis, its really about immersing yourself into the art itself. Be sure to check the events calendar for Meow Wolf, as they constantly have some form of live entertainment happening weekly.  While I was there, I had the chance to vibe out with the locals and enjoy some West Coast Hip-Hop artists from around the area, such as Zion I, Wakeself, DJ Element, and Def-i, whose lyrics touched on everything from love and unity to racial injustice and Indigenous oppression.

It was by far my favorite part of the trip and a great way to end my last night in Santa Fe.

Many people questioned me about my trip to New Mexico. “Who goes there?” ” There won’t be any black people there” What’s there?” “You are going along.” All of these questions came to mind as well for me, as well as “who cares?” The whole point of traveling is to experience places you never knew existed. It was an escape from my current reality. It was a look into someone else’s reality. It was a taste of a reality that includes happiness and fulfillment, something that I am still seeking.

Getting to that point of living my best life takes some self-evaluation. During part one of my Southwest trip, I addressed some of the things I have lost sight of. One was realizing how important my independent is and how is. I’ve become attached to certain people I’ve met since living and Chicago and that attachment has made me very comfortable. Being comfortable has made me complacent, a little lazy, and stuck. No more of that. This trip also made me recognize how much I love planning and researching, and if I can do this for myself, I can do it in a career. It affirmed how easily it is for me to strike conversations with people and throw bashfulness to the wind. It reminded me that I cannot depend on other people to bring me happiness or fulfillment.

It reminded me that I have to continue on to my next journey, and not get distracted by dumb stuff. No matter how attractive it looks from a distance, I have to make it to my next stop.

  Albuquerque to Phoenix: Seven Days Seeking the Southwest Pt.1 Seven days in the Southwest solo. How can I describe my experience? Unexpected. Exhilarating. Fulfilling. There is so much to cover, so I am breaking down my time spent between the two different states and ten various cities that I visited in two parts.

[hattonandfinn]

The Hills Go West

Dallas, TX (Quanah, TX) > Amarillo, TX (Tucumcari, NM) > Santa Fe, NM (Albuquerque, NM) > Kingman, AZ (Flagstaff, AZ) > Los Alamitos, CA (Needles, CA)

Leg 1 - Dallas to So Cal

The first leg of our epic road trip out West was a huge success. Seriously, it went better than Ross and I ever imagined and all thanks to our amazing puppy and happy baby. I have a feeling both have been to more states and definitely more breweries than the average adult human ;)

Day 1 

We left late on Wednesday afternoon, February 15th, 2017. Ross had flown in from Detroit that afternoon and met me and Finn at Baylor Medical Center. I had noticed a lump on my breast just a couple days before. Finley and I saw Dr. G on Tuesday and were able to line up an appointment the day we left. Thank goodness it was just a cyst with milk that needed to be drained, but it set us back a fair bit and we didn’t head out of Dallas until 5pm. We got a slow start but by 6:30 and a stop and Starbucks, our little girl was fast asleep and we were on our way! We made it all the way to Quanah, TX for our first of many stops at a Sonic Drive In.  It was heaven! A corndog for me and breakfast burrito for Ross… and THAT LIMEADE!! The perfect treat. Hattie got a nice little walk and Finn an after dinner snack. We did have a bit of a scare when Ross’ window wouldn’t roll up after getting our food delivered…… turns out there is a bug in the F-Pace where you have to do this laundry list of things from opening and closing doors, unlocking and re-locking and starting and killing the ignition…. Good news is it worked! Safe to say we were all relieved since I wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of staying the night with all the truck drivers in the Casa Royale Motel down the street.

We made it to the Drury Inn & Suites in Amarillo around 12:30am – Ross had to wrap up a few things for work and Finn and I went straight to sleep.

Day 2

We had a relaxing morning watching Cupcake Wars and got on our way around 10. We headed straight to Evocation Micro Coffee Roastery. Wow! It was awesome; such a pleasant atmosphere complete with a pour over coffee and homemade waffle. Finn was lulled to sleep before we even hit the road.

We made it to Santa Fe after another meal at Sonic in Tucumcari, NM and went straight to Z Pet Hotel to drop Hattie off for a little retreat with her four legged friends. It was less expensive (and although we love her, way less stress) to leave her there versus keeping her at our hotel. We stopped at Iconik Coffee Roasters on our way into town for a little pick me up, blueberry muffin and diaper change. Before making it to our hotel, we hit Rowley Farmhouse Ales to check off another brewery on Finley’s list. Ross set a goal of hitting 52 in her first year of life (one per week)! 

Our hotel was awesome – La Posada de Santa Fe, A Tribute Portfolio Resort & Spa. With Hotwire, it was only $112 per night! We thoroughly enjoyed the hotel bar which was rated the coziest in Santa Fe. Finley slept in my lap while Ross and I enjoyed Spanish tapas and red wine in front of the fireplace. 

Day 3

Spa day!! I enjoyed a massage first thing in the morning while Ross and Finley got a little father daughter time. It was a welcome treat after 10 weeks of motherhood. Ross got a good workout in, I napped a bit then we headed to Mucho Gusto for some authentic New Mexican, Mexican fare. A local spot with fresh new Mexican chiles, enchiladas and local beer to boot!

We strapped Finn into her carrier and made our way to the Plaza de Santa Fe. First stop (after gelato of course;) was the Cheesemongers of Santa Fe! We couldn’t quite decide if Santa Fe was cool and historic or touristy and kitschy. The jury is still out. It’s safe to say Ross, Finley and I didn’t fit in incredibly well with the dreadlocked men and Native American pattern/mismatched outfit wearing women.

A day with the Hills wouldn’t be complete without a brewery stop so off we went to the Santa Fe Brewing Company which is the oldest in NM established the year Ross was born (1988). The beer was on point but Finley was not. Just as we sat down with our freshly poured brews, she as you would say, ‘lost it’. We grabbed a 6 pack and a couple stickers to go and hit the road. Brewery 16 checked off.

Had another awesome night at Staab House in our hotel finished off by a glass of red wine and chocolate mouse in our room. 

Day 4

Up and at ‘em! We headed to Arizona on day 4 of our trip. First goal – make it to Flagstaff. First stop after grabbing Hattie was of course, a coffee shop – Prismatic Coffee in Albuquerque. For years to come, you can probably ask the staff if they remember the three ring circus that was our family on that Saturday morning. After a nursing baby, family diaper change, barking dog and stop at the brewery next door, we were off. We didn’t have a beer but grabbed a bottle of the sour saison for the road at Ponderosa Brewing to check off Finn’s 17th brewery. 

Finley was an absolute angel on our longest travel day so far. She slept for almost 4 hours and woke up about 40 minutes outside of Flagstaff. Got her a snack and diaper change and we were off again. The pink elephant rattler from Gigi saved the day and got us into Flagstaff with a happily entertained baby. 

We had to hit Wanderlust Brewing Company – Beers for the journey. Definitely a name we relate to with our insatiable love for travel. Ross thoroughly enjoyed his Belgian Pale Ale and I got a few samplers including their bock and blond. The taproom was local and authentic but a little cramped with a dog and a baby, so we fairly quickly headed into the town center to Dark Sky Brewing Co.

Dark Sky had one of the best IPA’s I’ve ever tasted! In their first year of business, they met their goal of making 100 different beers. This is a place we could have settled in for awhile with their tasty beer and pleasant atmosphere, but with a 2-hour drive to Kingman ahead of us we enjoyed one and got a ‘crowler’ to go of their jalapeño pale ale. Last stop on our way out of Flagstaff was Matador Coffee Roasting Company. We were served by the sweetest girl in a Chi O shirt. She took good care of us before we hit the road with Ross’ short mocha, my double shot iced vanilla latte and a little H2O for our first born, Hattie.

We arrived in Kingman at 9pm which was just in time for a chipotle burrito bowl and 6 pack of local IPA from Walmart at the Springhill Suites.

Day 5

California here we come… 5 hours to go and we just have to make it before Finley’s grand debut at 4pm. Her California Sip & See! We hit Beale Street Brews Coffee Roasting Co. on our way out of town and made the excellent decision of stopping a couple hours later for pancakes at The Wagon Wheel in Needles, CA. It was fun to get a little taste of classic Route 66 and the wait staff couldn’t have been sweeter to us or our little girl.  

By 2:30pm, we arrived in Los Alamitos and Finley met her California family!

[iishipallthethings]

The Wager Chapter 1

Story Summary:  Another Day of the Dead is finally here. La Muerte goes to the land of the living and is shocked to see Maria, the jewel of the town, unsatisfied with her marriage with Manolo. Another wager is struck and La Muerte finds herself falling hard for a human. 1 year after movie! Main ship: Maria X La Muerte (kind of slow burn) but there is another :)

It was a clear night that was brightened by thousands of candles. Families gathered around various tombstones as they placed plates overflowing with food for their ancestors. Small children ran and screamed in delight as they chased one another in a game of tag. Adults bowed their heads and prayed, feeling their deceased family come up from the Land of the Remembered to visit them for that one night out of the year. All around were smiles and celebrating. Everything was so colorful and lively in a field filled with death.

La Muerte smiled from her spot on the roof of the church as she watched a dog join in the game of tag with the children. She laughed behind a raised hand as one of the children had tried to tag the dog, succeeding only when he baited the creature with a churro. The poor thing was confused as the children ran away from it, but after a moment it barked in joy as it chased the one who had tagged him. La Muerte suspected that it was more out of the desire to get more churros than the joy of playing the game.

A scoff was heard from behind her. "Really my dear. Why do you find such squealing creatures amusing?"

The smile only grew but she kept her eyes on the game of tag as she answered the presence behind her. "Come now Xibalba, it is the Day of the Dead. The children are only celebrating the only way they know. They're living."

A humph was her only reply and La Muerte turned her head to look at her husband. Xibalba leaned against his two headed snake staff, his eyes watching the children with a look akin to puzzlement. La Muerte giggled at the expression and got up from her sitting position. She more floated than walked to his side and entwined their arms. She felt Xibalba tense for a moment before leaning into her touch with a barely audible sigh of content.

"I simply do not understand the appeal to children. They screech like a banshee if they get a scraped knee, they need to be constantly looked after, and they know nothing of manners." Xibalba shook his head in distaste as his black wings ruffled behind him.

"They also smile at even the most simplest of gestures, they are so filled with potential, and they do not know of the hardships of this world," La Muerte replied. When Xibalba grunted in disagreement, she reached up with her free hand and stroked his face in a way that would make him agree with anything she said. She smirked at the way he followed her hand when she began to pull it away.

"See mi amor, children aren't so bad." She nodded towards the group who were now sharing food with one another. They gave the dog most of the food and the creature's tail would not stop wagging. La Muerte smiled at the scene and with a discreet wave of her hand, a bone appeared in front of the dog. It yipped in shock at the sudden appearance of magic but quickly dove for the treat. The children were thankfully too busy talking to one another to notice the bone manifesting.

"Hmm," Xibalba hummed noncommittally, still dazed by La Muerte's display of affection. He smiled at his wife, completely unaware of his surroundings.

La Muerte laughed as she rolled her eyes. He is simply too easy, she said in her head. Her eyes wandered back over the festivities. After a second, she focused on a statue of a man a little ways away from the main part of the cemetery. She knew that the statue was not there a year prior and wondered for a moment who it could possibly be. The statue was very short and had some sort of round body that indicated the man had a hunchback when he was alive. She tilted her head to the side as she saw a figure dressed in black bow its head and bend over to rest a bouquet in front of the statue's feet. The figure was very much unlike the other people, this one preferring silence and gloom rather than celebration.

"Maria?" La Muerte knew that the young woman's father had passed recently and that the town and had made him a statue as a tribute to his dedication to the safety of San Angel. She glanced at Xibalba who finally realized where he was and was now watching the woman as well.

Together, they materialized into a cloud of magic to get a better spot: La Muerte a breeze of marigold pedals; Xibalba an inky shadow.

They stopped on top of a dome of some mausoleum. They paid their respect to the ancestors by making flowers spring out of the ground around the stone building, or rather La Muerte did. Xibalba only scoffed at the irritated ancestors. With one glare, he forced the dead to back away without any more complaints.

La Muerte frowned at her husband and turned her attention back to Maria.

Maria smiled sadly at the statue. "Hola Papa. It's me, Maria. I'm sorry that I haven't come to see you as often as I probably should but-" she paused as she wiped some tears from her eyes. "Oh papa," she cried, "I-I think I made a mistake in marrying Manolo."

La Muerte and Xibalba shared a shocked glance before looking back at the grieving woman. Neither of them were expecting this.

"I j-just don't l-love him and I know he d-doesn't love me," Maria sobbed. She angrily wiped away the tears before she continued. "I just - oh papa I'm so al-alone!"

La Muerte felt sympathy for the young woman; from the sound of her voice, she guessed that Maria was holding this in for a long time. She glanced at her husband. Xibalba looked uncomfortable as he witnessed the woman's break down. Strangely, he was the first to say anything.

"Come mi amor, let her have her peace." He turned away and morphed into a cloud of inky shadow, zooming his way back to the church roof.

La Muerte prepared to follow his lead but someone coughed to get her attention. She looked down to see the ghost of General Posada looking pleadingly up at her. "Please my lady, can I tell mi hija that I am with her?"

La Muerte smiled sadly and shook her head. "We do not belong in this world, Dali Posada. We can allow them to feel our presence for this day but they cannot see us. I'm sorry." And she meant it. She knew that Maria only wanted some company but she could not bend the laws again. Not so soon after last year.

Posada gazed at his weeping daughter and sniffed. "If I ever get my hands on that boy, I'll-" He stopped talking and walked over to Maria, placing a hand on a shuddering shoulder that will not be felt. He looked back at La Muerte. "Surely you can do something? My child does not deserve such pain."

La Muerte thought for a moment and sighed. "Life can be really hard for the living. I swear that I will see if I can do anything to ease her burden." She bowed her head. "Goodbye General Posada."

She did not wait to hear the dead man's words. She left in a cloud of marigold flowers and materialized next to Xibalba. She noticed that the god was looking anywhere but the direction of Maria. She placed a hand on his arm. "Are you okay, Xibalba?" she asked.

"You seem saddened by the girl's predicament," he said carefully. He still did not look at her.

La Muerte furrowed her brow. "And you are not?" She looked down at the celebrating people. "It is our fault that she is feeling the pain she is now."

It was Xibalba's turn to look confused. "How so?"

"That wager we made long ago, about who will take Maria's hand in marriage. Perhaps we shouldn't have." La Muerte sighed, her shoulders sagging under the sudden weight of her actions.

Xibalba raised his eyebrows in shock. "Even if we hadn't, Manolo would have married the girl. It was inevitable," he reasoned.

La Muerte shook her head after considering the god's words. "We can never know for sure though. We interfered with their lives, used them as pawns for some stupid bet! Xibalba, what if Maria was never meant to marry either of those two boys?" She looked at Maria's silhouette in shame and panic. "We could have very well robbed her of her chance at True Love."

Xibalba did not look convinced. "Who could she possibly have married if it wasn't Manolo or Joaquin? Face it dear, you are simply too excitable these days."

La Muerte frowned at the lack of sympathy from the lord of the Land of the Forgotten. She knew that the time he spent ruling such a wasteland had hardened his heart but she could not believe he was acting so callous.

He seemed to notice the change of mood with his wife as Xibalba cleared his throat a moment later. "What I meant to say is, the girl would most likely have wound up with one of the boys. I bet you that if we were to take a look at the Book of Life then it would have clearly shown Manolo and Maria getting married!"

La Muerte looked appalled and Xibalba retreated a step, ashamed of himself as if he brought up a taboo subject. After a moment La Muerte shrugged her shoulders as she looked over at Maria, the burst of anger giving way to sadness. "We will never know now," she said. "Manolo erased his predestined story and wrote his own. Because of us."

Xibalba's eyes darted from one family to another down below as he thought of a way to cheer up his wife. A fleeting thought entered his mind of telling La Muerte that some people do not have stories set in stone for them but threw it out a moment later. This will only serve to make her more upset. He smiled suddenly when an idea came to his mind. "Are you so sure about that?" he said, his voice becoming as smooth as honey.

La Muerte glanced at him, her face warning him to think his words very carefully. She knew that tone of voice and when he spoke like that, he wanted to-

"How about we have another little wager?"

- have a bet of some sort. She scowled at the smiling god, the candles that adorned her dress and sombrero flaring up and her eyes glowing with the force of a small sun. "I just told you that we should have never made that wager and you ask me for another one." Her words were calm but her eyes did not lose their luminescence.

Xibalba smiled, apparently unaffected by his wife's display of displeasure. "Yes. I wager that you cannot make that girl happy again."

La Muerte narrowed her eyes, not believing what she had just heard. She barely noticed that the flames of her candles receded to their natural height and her eyes dimmed to their normal luminescence. "What did you just say?"

Xibalba's smile grew. "I said I bet that you cannot make that Maria girl happy again."

She thought over the words, wary to the fact that she was starting to like this idea of Xibalba's. "And if I do?"

His smile turned triumphant. "If you win then," he trailed off, thinking of something not that important for him to lose but something that would keep his wife interested. He frowned when he found the perfect gamble. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he decided.

This is to make her happy, he thought.

"If you win then I will not interfere with the lives of men. For only one century mind you!" he added hastily.

La Muerte blinked slowly as Xibalba told her of her possible winnings. "You swear? No meddling with the affairs of men for an entire century?"

The god nodded, making sure that his wife knew just how reluctant he was.

"And if I lose?"

Xibalba's smile returned however it turned much darker. "Then I get the Land of the Remembered!" La Muerte's eyes narrowed as the flames rose up warningly. "I'm only kidding mi amor! If I win then you must allow me to at least go to one of your Day of the Dead fiestas."

La Muerte smiled as she held out a hand. "I will do you one even better. If I lose, then you can visit me every Day of the Dead and we can enjoy the endless fiestas together."

Xibalba chuckled and shook hands with his wife. "That my dear, sounds most wonderful. Good luck." He vanished away without another word, leaving La Muerte alone on the church's roof.

She shook her head in amusement before calming down. She stepped off of the roof, a cloud of marigolds making steps for her. She reached the ground and began to walk towards Maria and her father's grave. None of the people even glanced at her, she was invisible to them. When she passed a fountain, she glanced at the wall of water flowing down to meet the pool below.

No longer was she La Muerte. She was now Mary Beth. Her glowing eyes became baby blue and her long, curvy black hair turned into straight red hair that ended at her waist. Her traditional dress and hat also changed. Instead of a red dress, she wore a white shirt hidden under a blue jacket that highlighted her eyes and a white skirt that showed off her legs and black heels.

Mary made her way over to Maria and hesitated at the mausoleum. She took a deep breath before resuming her march.

Maria sniffed and did not look at the figure that was approaching her. "Manolo please, I just want to be left alone," she said with another sniff.

"I'm sorry but who is Manolo?"

Maria stiffened and looked at the woman who was watching her curiously. She rubbed the tears from her eyes and stood up. "I'm sorry, I thought you were my husband." Her breath caught on the word 'husband' and she turned her head so the stranger did not see her watery eyes.

Mary looked at the statue Maria was staring at. "He looks like a hero," she commented.

Maria smiled weakly at the other woman. "He was," she whispered. Tears pricked at her eyes but she would not allow them to fall in front of someone she did not know.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Mary said softly. She took a step closer and glanced to the left of Maria where her father stood watching them. The man looked like he did not like this turn of events but did not voice his opinion. "Can you feel him?"

Maria hesitated before shaking her head. "No. I think he might not have shown up today. He's probably disappointed in me." She blushed as she realized that she had told a complete stranger something extremely personal.

"How are you so sure?"

Maria glanced at the strange woman who had turned her head to stare at the statue. "That's none of your business." She was shocked at how cold her voice sounded.

Mary was surprised as well. She turned her head to stare at the younger woman, as if she could not believe that Maria would have the audacity to talk to her like that. Maria saw a glimmer of something that looked like admiration but she could not tell for sure. Mary nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry for prying. It's just that I just arrived here and I have no idea where anything is or who anyone is. If you like, I can leave you to grieve in peace. Although, if I may, I believe that your father would prefer if you celebrate who he was in life."

Mary turned to walk away from Maria but felt a soft hand touch her shoulder.

"No wait. I'm sorry that I snapped at you." Maria looked ashamed as she looked at the ground. "Today is the first Day of the Dead without my papa."

Mary turned around and offered a sad smile. "It gets better." She nodded towards the statue. "He doesn't seem like the kind of man who would be ashamed of his daughter."

Maria smiled but it did not reach her eyes. "I hope so. I really do." She ran her hands across her dress to buy herself some time to think of something to say. "You mentioned that you were new right?" Mary nodded with a smile. "Well, how about I show you around tomorrow as an apology?"

Mary looked confused for a moment. "You already apologized and besides, it was my fault. I shouldn't have intruded on your private moment."

Maria shook her head. "Don't worry about it. It would be my pleasure to show you around San Angel." The little light in her eyes dimmed as she added. "It would get my mind off of some things too."

Mary nodded and felt a little concerned at Maria's attitude. "Okay, where do you want to meet?"

Maria asked, "Do you know where the town's fountain is?" Mary nodded. "Great! We'll meet up there at noon."

Mary smiled a small smile. "Until then," she said. She turned around and began to walk away. After leaving Maria's eyesight, she turned back into La Muerte. She dashed to the church's roof top before anyone could see that she was there. She looked at the direction of Maria and felt relieved when the young woman did not seem to start crying again. She felt excitement bubble up inside her and she found that she could not wait until tomorrow.

The bet was on.

[iishipallthethings]

The Wager Chapter 6

Story Summary:  Another Day of the Dead is finally here. La Muerte goes to the land of the living and is shocked to see Maria, the jewel of the town, unsatisfied with her marriage with Manolo. Another wager is struck and La Muerte finds herself falling hard for a human. 1 year after movie! Main ship: Maria X La Muerte (kind of slow burn) but there is another :)

Chapter title: I can’t get you out of my mind

Kofi?

How long will this take? La Muerte thought to herself as she sat sank deeper into her plush chair. She was watching the Sanchez family perform various dangerous acts in a bullfight. All around her, the residents of the Land of the Remembered cheered out as Carlos sidestepped a skeletal bull, the whiplash causing his clothes to flap about his body. He bowed to La Muerte as the bull tried to regain its footing. She gave a polite nod and watched with detached interest as the dance of death resumed.

It had been a week since she last visited Maria. She tried to keep herself busy by attending several fiestas but no matter how grand the party was, she found herself wishing to be back in the Land of the Living. As a last ditch effort to keep her mind from slipping to San Angel, she asked the Sanchezes to put together a bullfight for everyone to watch. If anything, the bullfight only made the goddess wish more than ever that she could escape her own realm.

Almost as if the mere thought conjured an antidote to her boredom, La Muerte felt a peculiar pulling on her consciousness. She frowned and tried to ignore it, redoubling her halfhearted effort to watch Carlos as he evaded the bull's horns again and again. The pulling persisted and grew the more she ignored it until it felt as if someone was tugging on her hair to get her attention.

Finally, with a soft growl under her breath, she began to pay attention to the strange sensation. The goddess almost started when she realized that she was being summoned. She glanced down at the bull ring and huffed in annoyance, there was no way she could escape without calling attention to herself.

La Muerte forced herself to relax against the chair as the tugging resumed, this time almost painfully. After ten minutes, Carlos and the bull bowed deeply to the applauding audience. She leaned forward into her chair as all the Sanchez bullfighters and the two twins, who managed to hold the goddess's attention longest with their amazing fireworks display, took a collected bow. La Muerte clapped along with everyone else.

Once the people of the Land of the Remembered began to file out of the stands, La Muerte snapped her fingers before anyone could notice her. Marigold petals flew around her and just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone without a trace.

Mary Beth walked out of the shadows of an extravagant tombstone. She glanced back at the coral marble, skimming her fingers across the smooth surface and igniting the unlit candles that surrounded the grave with a flick of her fingers.

A strange bark brought Mary's attention to her right. Chuy sat with a rather disgruntled expression on his face staring up at her. Mary patted his head and after a moment of hesitation, the pig stood up to press his face against the hand, encouraging the woman to scratch behind his ears. "I'm sorry that I made you wait, Chuy."

Chuy only gave a feeble grunt of annoyance.

Mary stopped scratching the pig's ears, much to Chuy's dissatisfaction, to look around. Nobody seemed to be in the cemetery she was summoned at, which relieved Mary. She knew that it would be quite difficult to explain how she appeared out of a tombstone that a pig was barking at a second before.

"Did Maria call for me, Chuy?" Mary asked.

Chuy gave an enthusiastic nod and promptly turned to point his snout east of where the cemetery was. He started to trot away, glancing behind his shoulder with a meaningful look in his eyes.

Mary nodded, realizing that she was meant to follow Chuy, and hurried after him. They walked for about thirty minutes before Chuy barked happily and ran up to a door to a beautiful mansion. She slowed down to a stop as the pig waited for her at the door's entrance patiently. The mansion looked extremely … familiar.

The house was undoubtedly one of the biggest and most expensive homes in San Angel, the handsome white marble making the mansion stand out of its wooden neighbors. But that was not caught Mary's attention. There was a balcony on one side of the house that overlooked the entire small town. Mary was looking at it as her brain hummed that she knew she saw it before, she just needed to recall where.

Mary gave a small sigh as she remembered why the balcony looked so familiar. It was the same balcony in which Manolo serenaded Maria. A sudden rush of feeling attacked Mary and she gasped at the intensity of it. She shook her head as she felt something bite into her heart but as quickly as the emotion came, it left with only a dull ache.

Before she could ponder what she felt and why, Chuy gave a low bark and pawed the door. She looked at the pig with a sheepish smile, knowing that Chuy knew that she was lost in her own thoughts. She walked over and knocked politely on the old door.

Chuy gave another low bark and pawed the door. Mary looked down with a shake of her head. "We can't just barge in, that would be entirely too rude."

Chuy stared at Mary as his leg rose and he tapped it against the wood once. He continued to stare expectantly at the woman until Mary gave a small exasperated sigh. "Okay, fine but if I get in trouble, I'm telling Maria that it was your fault."

Mary opened the door and took a cautious glance inside, making sure that none of the residents were just now turning a corner to let them in. She could have sworn that Chuy heaved his own sigh before running inside the mansion. He got to the center of the foyer before turning around, his eyes rolling when he saw that Mary was still technically outside.

Mary gave the outdoors one last longing glance before walking into the mansion. She looked around, very impressed with what she saw. Everything from the table situated in the middle of the room to the bare walls spoke of cleanliness and luxury. There was a glass door that led to an area in the back, undoubtedly used for banquets. She could see several tables piled behind the glass, each covered with a white sheet. There were two hallways on either side of the foyer, leading to different parts of the house. There a staircase to the right of the foyer carpeted with something that looked like red wool.

She walked deeper into the room as she eyed the two portraits hung beside the door she just entered. One was of General Posada and the other of Joaquin's father. The man looked more of a thug than hero in Mary's opinion but she will withhold her judgments if San Angel saw him as a person to be honored.

She heard a soft bay behind her, calling her attention back on to Chuy. He was currently sniffing the air with vigor, obviously trying to find something. He gave an excited bark as he trotted out of the right hallway of the room.

Sensing that she had no choice, Mary followed the pig. As they strolled down the seemingly endless hallway, she looked at the portraits of Maria's and Manolo's ancestors. She frowned when she noticed that the entire mansion seemed a little … empty. She shook away the feeling as Chuy stopped in front of old looking double doors.

Mary opened one of them and Chuy scurried past her with a grateful bark. She took a peek inside and saw that Chuy had led her to a giant library. There must be a thousand books sitting on shelves that surrounded the walls. She walked into the room and saw that there were several couches in the middle of the room, and resting on one was Maria.

Maria did not seem to notice that she had guests; she was far too absorbed in her book. Mary grinned when she saw that it was the book she had given the younger woman a week prior. She coughed under the breath and chuckled when Maria gave a yelp of surprise.

"M-Mary, what are doing here?"

"Didn't you call for me?" Mary asked, still grinning.

Maria nodded and carefully placed the book next to her. "Yes, but I wasn't expecting you until the afternoon."

"It is afternoon," Mary said gently.

The younger woman's eyes widened as a light blush covered her cheeks. She gave an embarrassed laugh as she smoothed down imaginary creases in her dress, "Oh, I'm sorry! I was reading and I guess I lost track of time."

The older woman simply waved away the apology. "I would be concerned if you didn't lose yourself in that book. It's very good," she said.

"Thank you again for it," Maria said, relieved that Mary did not think ill of her for not realizing what time it was. She stood up and Mary noticed that the blush did not soften and she took a deep breath. "I called you because I wanted to know if you like bullfights and if you would like to go with me to see one today?"

It took Mary a moment to figure out what Maria asked as the younger woman spoke so quickly as if the words would become extinct if she did not voice them in one second. "Actually, I never have -" she saw the disappointment growing in Maria's face, "been to a bullfight before," she hastily said. Another little white lie but it was for a good cause.

The disappointment on Maria's face changed to one of hopefulness in a heartbeat. She grinned and stood up, causing Chuy to bark happily. Maria gave the book the older woman had gifted her one final glance, her fingertips brushing the cover like it was made of the finest silk. She walked over to Mary and held out an arm, still grinning widely. "You're going to love it," she said.

The excitement was contagious. Mary found herself smiling as she accepted Maria's arm. She was unsure why she was so happy, a moment ago she would have given everything to escape a bullfight. The two walked out of the library with Chuy trotting alongside them. Maria glanced down at the pig as they reached the door that led outside of the mansion and went to grab a blue leash. Chuy seemed a little disgruntled as Maria clipped it on but he smiled a second later.

They left the mansion and strolled over to the town's arena. Mary noticed that many of the town's residents were also heading in that direction. Most of them glanced at the three and whispered excitedly to each other. Mary caught words like "marriage" and "trouble." It seemed that she was not the only one who sensed the struggles in Maria's and Manolo's relationship.

Maria did not spare any of the gossipers any notice, although Chuy gave a low growl. She tightened her arm around Mary's, not enough to hurt the older woman, and lifted her chin as she walked briskly away. Mary gave Maria a concerned glance and whispered low enough so only the other woman can hear. "Do you want to head back? We can read instead of going to the bullfight."

Maria shook her head with a soft smile. "No, they can say whatever they want about me, I don't really care. Besides, Joaquin is dying to meet you."

Mary nodded, smiling as well. The rest of the trek was in silence and soon the massive arena loomed in front of them. Mary made a start to go into the stands but Maria gave her arm a small tug. The younger woman pointed at the balcony seating, "We'll get a better view there. And, look, Joaquin is already here!"

Indeed, San Angel's hero was seated in the wooden balcony. He looked apprehensive, his fingers never stop stroking his mustache or playing with his various medals. Mary was a little confused by the behavior but quickly put it out of her mind as Maria lead her to the door to the balcony.

Joaquin stood up as the door behind him opened and Maria and Mary entered. He gave the younger woman a smile and nod; however both were a little shaky. "Hola Maria," he said, taking off his sombrero. He held out his hand for Mary to shake. "And who might you be?" he asked, giving her a crooked smile.

Mary took his hand, noting how the man's was a little clammy, and shook it. "Hola, I'm Mary Beth. Maria was so gracious to invite me to see Manolo's bullfight."

At the mention of Maria's husband's name, Joaquin's eyes darted to Maria, who suddenly became very interested in the arena's bullring. His eyes returned to Mary and nodded. "I see," he said, "well Maria is quite the generous woman."

Maria snorted at that. "Come on Joaquin, it's just one bullfight, and Mary's a friend of mine." She looked down at the arena and sat up straighter in her chair, "Speaking of which, it looks like it's about to start." It did not go amiss to Mary that there was a great amount of relief in Maria's voice.

Mary sat down next to Maria and Joaquin took back his seat. She glanced at the man and saw that his eyes were glued on the bullring and he was chewing his bottom lip with nervous vigor.

Manolo walked out into the middle of the bullring, waving at the audience with the hand that was not carrying the red cape. When he saw the balcony and those in it, he gave a deep bow. "I dedicate this bullfight to my lovely wife!" The crowd, even those who were whispering behind Maria's back, all nodded with approve at Manolo's declare.

It might have been Mary's imagination, but she could have sworn that Maria grimaced but for a second and Joaquin glance away shamefully.

Before she could ponder it, she heard loud banging coming from the bullring. She looked back and saw that it also caught the attention of Manolo. He turned so he faced the door that held the bull, which was causing the banging noise as he tried to get out. Manolo laughed at the noise and spoke up so he could be heard above the crowd, "Let this bullfight begin!"

As the last word left his mouth, the door burst open and the bull rushed out into the arena, giving a mighty roar as it charged Manolo. Once again Manolo laughed and sidestepped away from the horns of the bull. The bull roared and tried again to find purchase in the man who swung the red cape as if it were a flag. And it charged again. And again. And again. Each time it got too close to Manolo, the matador would step away and lead the bull into an ever tighter circle.

Soon, Manolo had the bull stumbling from dizziness and by the time it could stand without threat of falling over, Manolo had walked to the other side of the bullring. The beast shook its mighty head and tensed its body. It sprang at the bullfighter with all of its might, roaring its battle cry. The entire crowd was silent and on the edge of their seats, following the bull's charge with fearful eyes. Joaquin even let out a little gasp and clenched his sombrero in his grip so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Manolo waited until the last possible second before jumping out of the way to the right. The bull, however, expected the move and swerved his head to the side. The tip of its horn found purchase in the matador's side, and everyone leapt to their feet in horror as the sound of ripping clothes and flesh filled the air. The bull stood over the kneeling Manolo as if it did not understand why there was now blood decorating the sand. Joaquin had his twin swords out in a flash and jumped out of the balcony, racing down the steps and leaping over the barrier that separated him from the bull. He charged at the bull, giving a battle cry of his own, his swords raised high to be brought down.

Before he could reach the bull however, strong hands pulled him to the side. He whirled around to punch whoever dare stopped him from attacking the bull. Manolo kept his grip on Joaquin's shoulders even when one of the blades was brandished in his face.

"Stop Joaquin!" Manolo cried as he wrestled a sword from the hero's grip. "It was my fault, I was supposed to jump to the left!" He moved so he was in between Joaquin and the bull.

The bull did not take this opportunity to finish Manolo off. Instead, it pawed the ground and sniffed at the spots of blood on the sand. It let out a low whine and lifted its head to sniff at the wound it gave the matador. It eyed the sword Manolo was carrying and once again let out a low whine before taking a few steps away, his head lowered so that the horns scraped the sand.

Manolo glanced back and slowly patted the bull's snout. "It is okay my friend," he said kindly. He dropped the sword in the sand and faced the bull. He held up his hands to show he meant no harm.

Joaquin slowly lowered his own blade and watched the bull's every shift. If it made any sudden movements, he would make sure that it would be its last.

The matador looked around at the still quiet crowd. He raised his hands higher and gave the people a wave. "It is okay everyone, I am completely fine!"

The effect was immediate. The crowd cheered their relief in a standing ovation with Mary and Maria leading it. Joaquin sheathed his two blades, having scooped up the one on the ground, and clapped, still eyeing the bull apprehensively. Even the bull seemed relieved at the news. It lifted its head to look fully at the matador, stamping its hooves in the sand as a way of celebrating.

Manolo, with one hand on the bull's side and the other covering his wound, bowed deeply. Mary saw that the matador clenched his side as he and the bull walked out of the arena. She glanced over to Maria and saw her sitting down and fanning herself with her hand. "So Mary," the younger woman said weakly, "how did you like your first bullfight?"

Mary shook her head and sat down as well. "That was very," she shook her head with a small chuckle, "exciting." She swallowed through the lump in her throat. "Is it always like this?"

"No," Maria replied, still fanning herself, "there have been close calls before but the bull never managed to get him like this." She nodded towards the arena where Joaquin was only now leaving. "I'm surprised Joaquin acted so quickly though."

"Has he ever done this before?" Mary asked.

Maria shook her head, "No but he's always worried about the bullfights. Joaquin even once told me that he wishes he still has the Medal of Everlasting Life so he could give it to Manolo." She gave a genuine laugh, "You should have seen Manolo's face. He started a huge lecture on how that medal caused all this misfortune and how he should never wish for that medal to come into their hands ever again, or anyone's for that matter." She nudged Mary's side and stood up. "Come on, there's a party and I don't want to go alone."

Mary nodded and followed Maria and Chuy out of the balcony. They lost one another in the crowd but Mary need not worry that she would get lost, it seemed that everyone was heading to the same party.

It turned out that the party was back at Maria's mansion. She walked inside and saw the entire place changed. Festive banners were hung from the ceiling and the tables she spotted from the back side of the house earlier were moved so they covered most of the floor. The mariachi brothers were playing a merry tune as couples danced in an open space next to them. On the other side of the room was a long table filled with all kinds of food. She spotted Chuy helping himself to the party's small sandwiches, much to the disapproval of the nuns standing near him.

Mary looked for Maria and saw that the younger woman was talking to Manolo. The matador seemed perfectly fine, save for the white bandage covering his lower left side. He laughed at something Maria had said and patted his side with a slight wince. Joaquin walked over to the couple with a plate filled to the brim with different fruits. Manolo took some grapes off of Joaquin's plate. Joaquin did not seem to mind, he offered some food to Maria as well.

Maria shook her head and spotted the older woman on the other side of the room. She gestured for her to join them with a smile. Mary strolled over and nodded towards Manolo's bandage. "How do you feel?" she asked.

Manolo glanced at his wound with a shrug. "I'm just grateful that it isn't that deep, it could have been a lot worse," he added with a glare when Joaquin scoffed. The hero of the town looked down at his food with a grimace. Manolo only sighed and threw an arm around his friend's shoulders. Joaquin jumped at the sudden contact and glanced worryingly at the bandage. The matador stole more grapes from Joaquin's plate, "It's a party brother, enjoy it."

Mary thought that she saw a light blush spreading across Joaquin's cheeks. Before she could look closer, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Maria pointed her thumb at the buffet with a grin. Mary glanced back at the two men, who were somehow now in a heated debate whether bulls were safe or not, before nodding at Maria. They walked over to the buffet and Mary grabbed one of the ready glasses of wine. Maria shooed Chuy away from the food before grabbing a glass herself.

After half of her wine was gone, Mary looked over at party. "Do you have parties this big all the time?"

Maria shrugged. "Not always, but everyone wants to see how the Hero of the Ring is."

"It's kind of loud," Mary commented, "and crowded."

"I couldn't agree more," Maria said with a laugh. She slipped her hand into Mary's easily. "Come on, let's go to the library."

Mary glanced down at their joined hands before nodding with a grin. She allowed Maria to lead her through the room with such ease that it was obvious that Maria had plenty of practice of weaving in and out of a crowd.

Soon, the voices of the party softened until only the mariachi brothers could be heard. The two women went into the library, leaving the door opened only long enough so Chuy, who had followed them, could slip through.

Maria took the spot Mary had saw her earlier that day, her fingertips running across the cover of Moby Dick. Mary sat down in the loveseat right in front of Maria. Chuy hopped up next to the younger woman, resting his head on her lap.

Mary took a sip of her glass as she studied the woman in front of her. Maria met the gaze with a slight smirk as she patted Chuy's head. "Why are you staring at me?" Maria asked as she finished her glass.

The older woman shrugged, noticing how there was a slight slur to Maria's voice. "How many glasses have you had?" she asked.

Maria simply grinned mischievously. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess I needed one after today," the grin grew as she added, "or a few."

Mary rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh but her eyes were alight with humor. "Today was a very exciting day." She swirled the wine in her glass before taking a sip of it, sighing as the alcohol left a soothing burn down her throat.

Maria gave a noncommittal hum, glancing down to the book. Mary saw that the younger woman's cheeks were flushed but supposed it must have been from all the alcohol she consumed.

It seemed as if Maria had gotten her thoughts in order because she looked back up. "Although it could have been better."

"Manolo says that the cut isn't deep so he'll be all right," Mary assured Maria, thinking that the younger woman was talking about her husband.

Maria shook her head. "I know but I'm not talking about Manolo. The door finally fell over today at the orphanage." Maria looked down at the empty glass sadly. "It's hurricane season next month and if the orphanage floods, I'm not sure what we're going to do."

Mary thought for a moment before suggesting, "What if we donate money to the nuns so they can hire someone to fix the building?"

"I can't. No matter how many times I try, they won't accept a single peso from me!" Maria said a little angrily. Mary quickly leaned over and plucked the glass from Maria's hands before the younger woman dropped it in her anger. Maria looked down at her empty hands, confused as to where her glass had gone for a second before continuing. "It's all that gato grasa's fault!" Mary's face must have shown her confusion because Maria said bitterly, "The orphanage used to be owned by corrupt people. A rich family would pretend to volunteer as teachers and give 'donations' to the staff. In reality, the family was paying them off so they could borrow the children to work on their farms." Maria's face twisted in disgust, "It's said that the children came back to the orphanage covered in cuts and bruises but not a single staff member did anything about it. Eventually, it became public what the orphanage and that family were doing. Both got run out of town." Chuy gave an approving snort. "After that, the orphanage went to the nuns and it became policy that none of the volunteers are allowed to give any money."

"That's terrible," Mary whispered.

Maria nodded in agreement. The younger woman looked very drowsy after her rant, her head resting against the couch as the hand petting Chuy stilled. Mary grinned as Maria's eyes fluttered close for a second before her breathing evened out and her head loll back against the seat. Chuy glanced back up before yawning and moving into a more comfortable position.

Mary got up from her seat and strolled over to the two. She snapped her fingers and La Muerte stood in the middle of the library. Chuy only raised his head sleepily, his eyes blinking slowly, trying to comprehend why the goddess was standing in front of him instead of Mary. La Muerte grinned down at him and twirled her hand once, a blanket appearing out of thin air and floating slowly down to cover Maria and Chuy. The pig grunted thanks and buried his body under the blanket to get warm.

La Muerte glanced at Maria who was now smiling softly in her sleep. The younger woman murmured something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like "Mary." La Muerte shook her head with a smile as she disappeared in a cloud of marigold petals. She appeared in her castle, the small smile still on her face. She sat down in her throne and twirled her hand, summoning a gold goblet filled with wine from the air. She took a sip from the goblet and tapped out the same tune the mariachi brothers were playing at the party. "Tomorrow is going to be so much fun," she said to herself.