Six Again

Oh. My. Gosh. My friend threw the yummiest birthday party for her daughter last Saturday. I'm not even going to waste time setting it up for you. I'm just going to go right into it.

We got there, we being my boyfriend and I, after an hour drive. My friend Maria lives in the desert close to another good buddy of mine. I don't know what it was about the Coachella Valley that produced best friends for me in college but then took them right back after we graduated. The good thing is that the trip is very relaxing for me so I'm happy to travel out there when ever possible, with or without an invitation.

Anyway, as I was saying, we arrived around three in the afternoon and the first thing I noticed were the beautiful center pieces sitting atop, yes, atop, the tables. I thought, Whoa, Maria went all out for this one. A stuffed penguin in a winter coat sat on top of a vase filled with chocolates. Upon seeing my admiration, Maria's husband pointed out the maker of such creations sitting with her family against the house. 

"She made them," he said, "just so you know for when you're ready."

It might be a decade before I request the ladies' services for my own child's birthday party since I don't have any. That didn't stop me from thinking of a future date that would be worthy of such extravagances, though. 

A little girl asked me if this one was mine and I said yes, although the other guest at the table and I were going to rock, paper, scissors for it. Unfortunately, it disappeared after we went to the bathroom.

Since Leo and I didn't stop at Chili's before heading out, we were starving. And we weren't embarrassed to communicate this to Maria's husband. We put our stuff down at the table that was sure to relish in the sun until it went down. Then I grabbed a bowl-shaped Styrofoam plate that Maria's husband voluntarily filled up for me with posole because he didn't want me to burn myself (what a gentleman). That was my pre-appetizer. There was so much food and my goal was to have some of everything. Then came time for the appetizer. Since Leo was about to grab nachos, I told him to fill up because I was going to have me some too. It was then that I had enough fuel to get me through the main event: a pair of homemade chicken tamales. I admire Maria so much as a teacher, as a wife, and as a mother. But she blows my mind when it comes to her culinary skills. My own mother doesn't know how to make tamales yet here is a young woman who slaves away in her kitchen making posole and tamales on the same day for her family and friends. You're the real-life Super Woman, friend!

Love you, amiga! You don't know know how much I appreciate your friendship all year long, between visits and calls. 

You can bet that I was ready for desert after my three-course meal but it was too early to cut the cake. I seriously considered yanking the penguin from the vase and grabbing a chocolate but I knew I'd never be able to return it to its original state. Instead, I stood up and followed Maria to the craft's table when I saw her come out of the house with her face painting supplies in tow. I sat next to her and a little girl tried fighting me for the chair. I was willing to relinquish my seat but Maria told her I had to go first because I was her best friend. I attempted to console the child further by stating that Maria was going to refine her skills on me so the painting would be perfect on her. The kid didn' believe me, though, since she gave me the same look I give my students when I don't trust them.

Other creations on the premises: Santa Claus and a reindeer. I walked into Sears inside a mall like this, and the movies, afterward. I have no shame.

After I was done modeling for Maria's face painting portfolio, I grabbed a small plastic bag off the table. It had all kinds of spongy pieces for a winter picture frame. I made sure there were enough baggies for the real kids before snatching one and retraced my steps to my table. The frame had instructions but I didn't want to put the bird's nest on the snow man's carrot nose. I thought it was more plausible for birds to make a nest on the snow man's hat. I finished my creation with the intention of giving it to my mother for Christmas. Very daughter-like of me, I know.

My family better take good pictures this Christmas or else this frame is worthless. 

And what is a birthday party without a piñata? Just an adult gathering, that's what. Maria's husband always pulls the most dangerous stunts for his kid's fiestas. Maria's friend reminded me of the time he stood on a brick wall just to hold up the Mexican party staple.

"I didn't want to look," the friend admitted to me.

Leo even got to experience some of the piñata pain last year when he held the rope with his bare hands in the drizzly cold weather while standing on a ladder. He was developing blisters before someone handed him utility gloves to get him through the rest of the game.

This year introduced a new challenge. Since the party was in the front yard, Maria's husband's only choice was to stand on his father's minivan and hold the piñata from there. Again, Maria's friend was afraid to sneak a peek, fearing a slip and fall of sorts. But she had a good suggestion for our friend: to put together a photo album based on all the crazy places and positions he takes year after year holding the piñata. I added that this memory keeper should be given to the birthday girl on the day of her wedding. Just a suggestion....

Proud papa up there. That's not the birthday girl. Leo taking watch. 

Maria passed goody bags filled with some candy and personalized pencils with the birthday girl's name engraved in them to all the children while they waited in line. She thought they were too big but came in handy for stuffing the sweets that fell from the broken cardboard holiday star.

Since the night encroaches rapidly during this time of the year, the piñata was immediately followed by cake. We gathered around two bundt cakes when Maria received a phone call from her lost cousin. As she gave him directions to her house, her husband positioned the candles on the cakes and lit them. While we waited for Maria to hang up, we noticed that the candles were burning at a rapid speed. Maria saw and pointed at them, then laughed as she finished up the call. By the time all the stars had aligned to sing her little girl Happy 6th Birthday, only half of the candles were left.

Who cares if there's wax on the cake; all the more flavorful!

Because it was close to near freezing temperatures, Maria invited us inside her house. Her brother-in-law walked by with a delicious looking hot dog and Leo and I turned to each other. We both craved it, especially since a couple of hours had passed since we'd eaten, with the exception of a piece of cake. When the brother-in-law came in a second time asking if anyone wanted his creation, Leo seized it. It had mustard, ketchup, relish, and nacho cheese. In the meantime, Maria's mother graciously handed me a cup of hot chocolate. Leo finished his hot dog while I sat blowing into my chocolate hoping it would cool fast so I could take a sip. To kill time, I asked Leo to get me a hot dog without condiments except for mustard. And with that post-desert desert, Leo and I reached the Full mark in our tanks.

With no more food to taste and no place for it to go, Leo and I decided it was time to go. We stood up, thanked our hostess for such a lovely, yummy time, but she wasn't finished with the surprises. Maria handed me a bracelet, yet another party favor, she had reserved for all the little girls. Then she ran into one of the rooms and came back with my Christmas present. Maria could've said, Thanks for coming, have a safe trip home, from the comfort of her house but she didn't. Leaving her sweater behind, she walked Leo and me out to my car and repeated how much it meant for her that we went.

I hope everyone is as lucky as I am to have such a caring, thoughtful, selfless, and funny human being in their lives. For eight years, Maria has been my friend, sister, mother, counselor, confidant, and personal comedian. Around her, I don't only eat like I'm six again but I giggle like one too. 

We Are The 80's

When one of my sister's best friends officially invited me to her 80's-themed 30th birthday bash through Facebook, I was totally in. Are you kidding me? Pass up the opportunity to dress up? Never! Plus, I already had a costume.

Personally, I hate 80's music. Maybe hate is too much of a strong word. I should say that I don't care for it. But it's not my fault that I don't appreciate synthesizers and electronic music in American pop music. I grew up with Mexican parents. I am the eldest of two daughters who had no outside musical influences. As far as I knew, Los Temerarios, Bronco, Lucerito, Juan Gabriel, Luis Miguel, Ramon Ayala, Pedrito Fernandez, Antonio Aguilar, Vicente Fernandez, Tatiana, along with everyone else who appeared on Siempre en domingo, were the only artists in the world. As a matter of fact, sitting at JT's party (short for Jackie T., only because my sister is also named Jackie and I'm trying to eliminate any confusion), my sister confessed to claiming that Spanish music was better than English music to a classmate in elementary school. That's how culturally segregated we were.

 

It wasn't until we got to middle school that Jackie and I began to listen to what our friends were, which happened to be L.A.'s KROQ and Star 98.7 radio stations. That's right. We turned out alternative rock chicks. I was in love with Third Eye Blind while Jackie lip-synched to No Doubt's "I'm Just A Girl" during a lunch competition one day. So even though I was born in the early 80's, I'd much rather put on a 90's themed birthday bash for myself. Plus, nothing  more comfortable exists than loose jeans, Dr. Martens, and of course, a plaid shirt tied around the waist.

My friend took me back 20 years recently when I modeled this for her Etsy shop.
http://www.etsy.com/shop/LaSophia

Although not a fan, I was ready to get into character for this party. The only thing missing was a hot pink lipstick which I had seen on a colleague. When she told me she'd gotten it at MAC, I lost interest. Not only am I frugal (nice word used by my coworker rather than calling me cheap) but had no intention of hitting up a mall before the party just for a lipstick. So I headed to Kmart instead and found a Wet N Wild one for a buck. My hair was another head sctratcher since it's short. Last year I was able to put it up into a side pony tail. My plan was to ask my mother to braid it into five cornrows so it would get that popular 80's crimped look. And when JT sent out a message asking for music requests, I was not without a list. I asked for Timbiriche and Flans. I almost added El General but didn't know if it was early 90's and was too lazy to check. I was ready for the shingid despite my lack of knowledge of eighties pop culture.

Before...



...After.

On me:
Dress- bought off the clearance rack from a chinito store in East L.A.
Leggings- V-generation
Shoes- BCBG from Macy's clearance (gift from Sophia), $22
Lace gloves and headband- Claire's
Earrings- neighborhood 99 cent store
Bracelets: Jackie

On Jackie:
Dress: Forever Twenty-One at Buffalo Exchange, $10
Shoes: Marshall's, also BCBG. What a coinkydink!
Tights, red feather earrings, and headband: Berkeley boutique
Rosary: neighborhood 99 cent store
Necklace: Ex-boyfriend.

JT lives in a common L.A. street--narrow with cars parked bumper to bumper. You have to be a parallel parking expert if you want to find a spot, which I am not. This is why my dad volunteered to drop us off on his way to his work holiday party. Also because JT lives about five blocks away and close to the freeway he had to take to get to his festivities. I didn't like the idea at first because I knew we were going to come home late. But he was right when he said that I'd probably be circling around for a while before I found a space. He didn't want us walking the streets late at night in our hooker attire and neither did I. So I let Jackie make the final call on his offer since it was her friend's bash we were about to attend. Jackie warned him that we might come home at one, two, or three in the morning and my dad said, "Just call me." With a consensus made, Jackie and I were dropped off by our mommy and daddy.

"Don't drink," my mom said as we got off the van.

"We'll watch you guys go inside," said my dad.

I couldn't help but laugh at their childish concern for us.

I had eaten a sope before getting ready but I was already starving. Luckily, JT's kitchen was covered in food. I grabbed a Styrofoam plate and filled it with a fried chicken leg, which I never crave, pasta and potato salad, and a small bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. Gosh, how I craved Cheetos. They were my appetizer. I downed my food with orange Sunkist and then I ordered a Desert Sunrise that I never finished. I even filled up my red plastic cup with more Sunkist after dancing for a while. JT had covered the tables in candy. After a Sugar Daddy, Fun Dip, Blow Pop, gummy worm, and countless other sweets, my tongue burned. So I turned to Ruffles and Doritos with dip. The only positive about my food consumption was that I might have been able to keep my weight steady by dancing throughout the night. With the exception of the five jello shots I had on the dance floor, that is.

How cool is this cake, huh???



Neons, very 80's

Awesome decor

JT's mom ran the bar

Oh, yeah...

I gots skillz...and a good model.

JT got Jackie the flight tickets so she could be there for her birthday on her birthday. Confusing? Nah. 

I won a raffle! For the first time in my life, I'll hit up a Jamba Juice thanks to JT.

Bday girl, nervous after her speech

Besties since middle school

Go, Jackie! Go, Jackie! A shout-out to each of them. 

The night ended for us at 2am. The drunk girl who made her way inside the house to puke had already left, I think, only leaving the gay drunk guy that JT maintained upright like a crutch. I called my house, told my mom that Jackie and I were ready, and waited for my dad on the sidewalk. When the van arrived, I laughed at the sight of my mother in the passenger's seat. I hadn't expected her to get out of bed and come with my dad. But I knew she was curious to see if we were drunk and we disappointed.

Getting picked up by my parents at the ages of 29 and 30 was a little embarrassing, I will admit. Jackie and I were never in that situation in our teens. Rather, we were told to put our homework away and go to sleep because it was late. It's never too late, though, to act like normal teenagers instead of bookworms.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Rider Strong. After all these years, I still remember...

A Hella Weekend

The boyfriend and I flew to Oakland a couple of weekends ago for a friend’s wedding. Leo was a groomsman and we bumped into the best man at the airport en route. The best man and I switched to our Nor Cal lingo as soon as the plane landed on the wet tarmac. 

“It’s hella raining out here,” I said looking out the tiny window on the other side of the old man to my left. The not yet retired gentleman had reminded me earlier in the flight of the sinner I was for, according to my parents, "traveling as if I were married." He had asked if Leo was my husband and, with a small hint of shame, I responded  that he was only my boyfriend.  We didn't speak much after that, primarily because he fell asleep after downing a Coke and a bag of chocolates.

Anywho, the best man followed my lead by saying, “It’s going to be a hella wedding.”

“Yeah. I hope it’s not hella cold,” I replied.

We were laughing our way to the baggage claim when we walked past a stand selling tee shirts.

“I want that one,” I told Leo, reading the article of clothing that said, “Hella Tight.” 

I slowed down to a stroll, skimming the shirts to see if any of them were worth their inflated price. I've been wanting an original Oakland tee since last May when we walked down Piedmont Avenue.  That's where I saw one on a mannequin that read, “I Hella <3 Oakland,” but didn’t find my size. Instead, I had to console myself with a hot pink number with the word "Oakland" printed in navy letters from the airport--how lame. As I scanned the selection this time around, I overheard a hippie-looking customer with a beanie and flowered dress tell the seller, “That is ridiculously rad.”  I walked away laughing because I had added another authentic Nor Cal phrase to my vocabulary.

Ready to assimilate, we hit up the car rental place and drove off in a ridiculously rad new Ford Focus hatchback. There was hella traffic to the city of Lafayette where the wedding was going to take place so we didn't make it to the church rehearsal. Luckily, though, we made it to rehearsal dinner where the margaritas were so ridiculously rad that I blew fire out of my nostrils.

After helping the bride fill party favors with candy in her suite, Leo and I drove in the rain to the town of Walnut Creek where our cheaper hotel awaited us. The ridiculously rad worker had phoned Leo earlier to remind him that the office closed at 9:30. Although it was nine when we arrived, we thought the lobby had already closed because the door was stuck due to the recent paint job. As soon as I was in our room, I changed into my pj's to get comfortable only to hear that the boyfriend had an ice cream craving. I hella didn't want to go but changed my mind when I thought about taking a late night drive in the rain in a foreign town. So I threw on my boots, grabbed my umbrella, and headed to the car feeling like a child up to no good. We drove into the deserted street and passed the ridiculously rad outdoor mall someone had recently told us about, with window-shopping only stores like Neiman Marcus and Tiffany’s. Leo turned right looking for CVS since Google Maps said we had missed it. When he finally parked, I felt like Mary Poppins walking towards the store with my umbrella in my hand except I was wearing polka dot pajamas. Leo couldn't decided between two ice creams and as he paid, I found discounted candy corn from Halloween for the hella price of $.27! We walked out of there like giddish children already high on sugar.



A shout out to my sis in Oakland and my friend in El Sobrante! Woo, woo!!

We drove to the church the following afternoon where Fall was hella present. The rain had ceased for the meantime and it wasn’t as cool as I had expected. We saw a dead reindeer on the side of the road next to a construction vehicle on the autumn-like boulevard—wet streets, mostly bare branches, brown, red, and orange leaves, grey sky. We made a quick stop at McDonald’s because we knew we wouldn’t be eating again until hella late. Then we turned onto the church street where traditional American homes were tucked behind a sea of autumn leaves. After a beautiful ceremony where the groom only had eyes for his bride, we checked into the hotel where the reception was set to take place.

May God bless him, I mean them.

Once in our four-star rated hotel room, I changed into the hot little burgundy number I found at a chinito store at the mall for thirty dollars. It comes right below my ass but makes up for the length in the long sleeves. The seams at the neck and wrists have gold sequins and the sleeves have slits that reveal my arms. I kept my eye shadow neutral so I could wear rouge that matched my dress. Then I put on my Jessica Simpson strappy heels and lathered my legs with shimmering lotion for a post-summer glow. Looking ridiculously rad, we hit up cocktail hour.

Most of the guests were already in the room sampling free drinks and appetizers. I ordered the same cocktail as the girl in front of us had (I have no clue what it was but it was hella good) and we made our way to an empty table where the few people we knew started gathering. A So Cal friend stood next to me and told me that I looked very nice, emphasizing the word very. Feeling hella good about myself, I sampled chicken and a caprese salad on sticks. Then I had a ridiculously rad martini alongside a pleasant conversation with the best man’s parents about their journey from Spain and Panama to the United States. It was then that a hotel worker escorted us to the main ballroom where the party was about to get started.

My first impression of the room was that it was hella small. I searched for the dance floor because I planned on being on it the entire night, provided the music lived up to my standards. I saw the DJ so I knew the floor must be somewhere. And that's when I finally spotted the 12x12 carpetless section in the middle of the room. It was then that I knew it would be a crammed night. Leo and I found our place settings and zigzagged to the other side of the dance floor to lucky table number one. Not only were we the first ones called to grub, but the cake table was right behind us. I noticed that it also had a candy bar so I stood up to steal a gummy worm. The florist was doing last minute touches on the cake when she saw me. She noticed that I had changed from the ridiculously rad black and turquoise peplum dress I wore for the ceremony. Bent over the table she said, “You’re a teacher and you’re wearing that?”

“I’m not teaching right now, am I?” I replied, then walked back to my seat biting the head off my gummy worm.

Didn't capture the entire dress, or piece of dress, but that's all right. This way, I can wear it again for the holidays :)

I didn’t get mad or offended. Are you kidding me? It was ridiculously rad! Her words fueled my inner goddess. It was the best compliment I could have gotten.  Except that it wasn't. During dinner, another groomsman called me stunning or beautiful in front of his wife but that wasn't all. After the first half of the party, Leo and I took a potty break. When we got back, an eccentric lady in her seat stopped me by taking a hold of my arm. It was a female I had spotted inside the church with a red flower in her head and a black and white striped skirt.

“I just wanted to tell you that you look gorgeous from head to toe,” she said. “You remind me of me when I was younger.”

“Thank you,” I said with all honesty. It's a hella tight feeling knowing you made the right wardrobe choice.

We spent the rest of the evening up and down. The DJ forgot that half of the party was Mexican and only played the groom’s nineties rap for a good hour. When Leo heard a song he liked we were up, otherwise, we sat. At 10:45pm, the DJ announced that the party was over. He had actually gone fifteen minutes over his contracted time. I looked at Leo like, What are we supposed to do now? He spent a lot of money on this wedding for it to end so soon. Another couple said they were going to hit up a friend's room so we followed. It was a faux pas moment when the guy opened the door in his pajamas followed by his girlfriend without any make up on. Since the bride had told us to meet her in her suite in a while, we left. On our way there, Leo and I took a detour to our room because I was cold and wanted to change. When I came out of the bathroom in my pj's, Leo was knocked out. Faux pas número deux.

We were out of our room by 11am the next morning. The newlyweds were in the ballroom collecting their gatherings as we made our way to the parking lot. We had breakfast at a "Luke's" wanna-be diner in Walnut Creek (Gilmore Girls, look it up) and then took a stroll. I noticed EZ-Ups down the street while we waited to be seated and got excited for what I thought to be a street fair. I was determined to get ridiculously rad one-of-a-kind pieces of jewelry for a couple of females on my Christmas list but unfortunately, it was only a farmer's market. Leo then took me to Lafayette where he grabbed a soda.

It's fall there.

Ridiculously rad color!

I thought we were on our way to the groom's parent's house because he had invited us for posole when Leo surprised me by taking me to sister's instead. After taking another stroll down Piedmont searching for an "I Hella <3 Oakland" tee shirt, we chilled in her apartment for about an hour before it was time to take our hella tight ride back to the rental place.

Our trip had a hella creepy ending. A woman Leo had pointed out at the airport on our way to Oakland was awaiting the same flight home. That wasn't weird because anyone could've had business to take care of up north for the weekend like us. It was hella freaky, though, when she sat two seats away from Leo in the shuttle that took us to the long term parking lot once we were home. I whispered to him that he must know her which was why she was stalking him. But that wasn't the worst part. When the bus pulled up to her car, I noticed that the vehicle next to hers looked just like Leo's. I let the coincidence go when the shuttle started again only to stop one second later to drop us off. Leo's car was the one parked next to the woman's. I looked at him wide-eyed in disbelief. I wanted to let her know that I was on to her game so I said, "You were on the Oakland flight on Friday too, weren't you?"

"Yes," she replied. I thought I saw a smirk as she loaded her luggage into her trunk.

"Oh, were you at the wedding too?" I asked, hoping she'd say no so I wouldn't have to get the cops involved.

"No," she said, without offering any further details. See, hella creepy.

I said good night, got in the car, and told Leo to drive around in a hundred circles so he could lose her.

Our hella weekend finally concluded with a ridiculously rad meal from Taco Bell.

Until next time, Oak Town. 
*********************************************************************************

Fast forward to December 25, 2012.

Thanks, Jackie! I hella love it!!!