On Sunday, I accompanied Leo to the Fontana Auto Club Speedway. His buddies from the GTR shop in Rancho Cucamonga were going to be racing their Mustangs. It was so windy and cold that the other two girlfriends present stayed in their cars while their boyfriends worked on a featured Mustang for the duration of the event.
It looked beautiful but it didn't feel like it.
I hadn't been to the track in years. The last time I was at this specific location, Leo raced his 2000 silver Mustang against his brother's white 1999 one and his brother won the quarter mile. Leo was obsessed with a capital O with his Mustang when I met him in 2001. Before our first date, I asked him what kind of car he drove because I lived at the dorms and wanted to distinguish his ride from all the other people getting picked up at the turnabout on Saturday night.
"I used to drive a little Honda," he said.
Oookay, I thought. I didn't ask him again what he currently drove because I thought he didn't understand me. But he had. His plan all along was to pull up in his almost new convertible to impress me. It was too early for him to know that I preferred Jeeps.
Leo's Mustang in 2012.
I hated his Mustang for the first couple of years we dated. He spent more time and money on that car than he did on me. After listening to Leo talk about wanting custom tires, even I contributed to the Mustang's improvements by giving him $200 for his birthday towards his first set of rims. That was true love right there because I was just a college student working in the residence hall making nothing. I did make sure to point out that the front passenger tire and rim were mine, just in case we broke up.
That damn Mustang also caused Leo to miss an event with me and made us late to my friend's wedding. Leo knew weeks, probably months, in advance about a wedding my family was going to attend and I wanted him to come with me. He promised to show up for the reception because he was going to work on the car in the morning. Well, Leo is no mechanic. Whatever work he completed was made possible by following a Mustang manual. When the reception hour crept closer and closer, I called him to get an update on his ETA. But Leo had broken parts and tools that he couldn't replace anywhere. I know he tried the best he could to fix his car but he never made it to the wedding reception. I felt like I had been dumped sitting at the party with my family and grandmother who came from Mexico specifically for the wedding. I was all dressed up and had no one to dance with.
Probably a year later, Leo worked early on the Mustang the day we were supposed to drive an hour to the desert for my friend Maria's wedding. I was ready to leave two hours before we planned on heading out but Leo hadn't even showered. When the driving hour arrived, I threatened to go by myself; I was not going to miss that wedding. But he begged and said he was going to be ready in five minutes. So I drove to his place and picked him up and if I remember correctly, we took my car because I was not going to take any chances "testing" the car and and Leo's labor skills. In short, we arrived to the wedding just as Maria and her man were exchanging vows. Leo knew he cut it close. I was so mad that his Mustang was getting in the way of our plans and ever since then, Leo has never worked on his car on the same day we have somewhere to go.
Leo has since bought another vehicle, more comfortable for all the driving he does for work. But he's been working on the aging Mustang lately as a hobby. He never planned on racing it on Sunday because it's been over heating along with other repairs that need to be made. But he still wanted to participate in the manliest activity of them all. When he invited me I didn't hesitate. I threw on my mini jean skirt over black leggings, recently bought Nine West flats from Ross, and a yellow long sleeve under a turquoise winter vest. Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture of myself. It seemed too girly to ask my boyfriend to capture me next to his Mustang while the rest of the guys watched. I acted like a reporter instead. Although there was a real one on the premises already.
Apparently, 5.0 Mustang and Super Fords Magazine was doing an article using one of the guys' new 2013 stock Mustang GT. Tom, the photographer and Mustang tester, provided wheels and suspension to compare speeds. First, the GTR guys exchanged the stock tires for nifty 18 inch wheels and then Tom gave the Mustang about three good runs.
Putting new wheels on.
Bad-ass rims.
Custom carbon fiber hood. Why do I know this? To the left of the Mustang you see a Saleen.
The Saleen's ass.
My apartment isn't this clean!
Tom from 5.0 Mustangs Magazine ready to hit the pavement.
There it went!
Guys being guys, waiting to hear the reviews from Tom.
There weren't only Mustangs at this race. This Focus is as old as mine. I asked the GTR owner if he would supe up my ride like that one so I can get to work faster.
The Focus spun out during a run.
Test number two: better suspension. Tom cut three seconds from his original time by adding a special suspension system. That's a lot in the racing world. Ask Danica Patrick.
My main man enjoying the show.
Yes, even girls raced. I saw women driving their Nissans and Mini Coopers. The girl wearing my favorite color was messing with her tires' air pressure while some fools with a camera and microphone interviewed her. But check out Big Bear in the background!
Leo riding with an experienced GTR driver. He admittded being a little scared before the adrenaline took over.
I took video of Leo and his friend during the run. The driver had to slow down after the initial turn because the car before him spun out, hence a dude waving a flag at them. If you look closely, you can also see the featured Mustang spinning out behind them at the end of the video. The noise you hear is the wind. If you think it's annoying, be glad it wasn't you standing out there.
I had six weeks of vacation that started right before Christmas and other than visiting Santa Barbara, CA. for New Year's, the rest of them went by rather uneventful. Now that I'm back at work it feels like I don't have time to breathe. But that's how it goes. I will not complain, though, because last President's Day weekend was full of highs and lows, literally. It all started on Friday...
My friend Yesica was in town. She lives up north now, 430 miles away from the place we first met in 2001. It was my second year of college and she was a freshman. The blue-eyed beauty was one of my residents being that I was part of the Residence Hall staff. On our first walk to dinner together, I learned that she too was planning on joining Ballet Folklórico at the university and we built a close friendship from there. Yesica was the one who watched the relationship between Leo, also a folklórico member, and me come into existance. I spent two hours on the phone with him one late December weeknight when the adrenaline of it all took me to Yesica's dorm room down the hall. I told her I had agreed to go out with Leo and we giggled like middle school girls. The problem was that I already had a date for Saturday night. Pablo,* a cocky Cuban swimmer with mismatched ears and shaved limbs, had been pestering me to go out with him for weeks. He was cute but too short for my taste. The real deal breaker, though, was that I thought he was a player; one saw/noticed/learned many things about the residents working at the front desk. When I finally succumbed to his invitation, I clearly stated that nothing was going to happen between us. We were going to have dinner, he was going to teach me how to dance salsa, perhaps get a peck on the cheek, and bring me home. Because I didn't want to go out with Pablo in the first place, it was easy to say yes to Leo who I had been flirting with most of the quarter. I asked Yescia for ideas on how to cancel my plans with the Cuban and floated back to my room in disbelief that for the first (and last) time in my life I had been asked out twice in one week.
Fast forward eleven years into the present: While Leo and I are still dating, Yesica is living up north, became a teacher, got married, got her Master's, and had a baby. When I found out she was going to be in town, I agreed to meet her at her parent's house because we didn't want to disrupt her baby's sleeping schedule. She told me there was fish for dinner and I panicked. I don't eat fish or any of its sea companions. It then hit me that it was Lent. I've never had this problem because my mom doesn't eat fish and therefore never made it. But I told myself that it wouldn't hurt to try it, especially if it was anything like the salmon I tried off another friend's plate a few months ago. I asked Yesica if there were side dishes to go with it just to make sure I would consume something but I didn't receive a response. I freaked myself out imagening a very fishy caldo and when I expressed my concern again, Yesica reassured me that the breaded and baked fish wasn't smelly at all. And she didn't lie. I ate most of it along two helpings of rice.
After filling our stomachs, we relaxed as we chatted for the next four hours since we hadn't seen each other since August. Eventually, Yesica changed her baby into her PJ's while I erased pictures in my camera to make room for new memories. Next thing I knew, Yesica had put her baby down and it was too late to capture my friend and her offspring. I wanted to kick myself for not having taken a picture with them but decided to travel further down memory lane by sharing an old photograph of us instead.
Yesica and me, 2002, outside a club, I hope.
The following morning, Leo and I were en route to L.A. My sister Jackie had also flown in from Nor Cal to watch P!NK at the Staples Center with me. I bought the tickets in October with the intention of having the sissy and BF act as my posse.
I warned Jackie and Leo weeks before the event that it might be an emotional concert for me. P!NK's latest album, "The Truth About Love," hit very close to home. I've been a huge fan of hers since she came out with "M!ssundaztood" and I resonate with a lot of her songs like Mean, Misery, Leave Me Alone, and Who Knew. I even plan on using one of her songs for my first dance if I ever marry, but I will not disclose that title. Her new songs, especially Try, Just Give Me a Reason, and Is This Thing On, validate my feelings when times are tough. Just knowing that Miss Alecia Moore has had her share of ups and downs when it comes to all aspects of the word LOVE keeps me motivated to bear, tolearate, and remain hopeful for my future.
This was my second time catching P!NK at the Staples Center. She wasn't able to perform all the acrobatic stunts in the program last time because she had pulled or strained a muscle. But all was fair game two Saturdays ago. P!NK has an awesome voice and body. Two days before the concert, Jackie texted me. She said she was listening to the new songs. She admitted that she too might shed a tear during the performance but not because she necessarily related to them but because P!NK was "just that good." If that's not a rave review, I don't know what is.
My idol, P!NK
Me, imitating her make-up and expression
Me and Jackie trying to replicate P!NK but Jackie's says something more like, "Come hither."
It isn't a P!NK concert without a touch of pink.
On the patio eating hot dogs after attempts at El Cholo and The Yard House failed.
Nosebleed seats. I was willing to pay lots of money for good seats but they sold out on day two of the presale, the same day I was forced to buy these. Good thing I have an awesome camera.
Ready for the show!
Doin' the "sprinkler."
Singing with so much passion.
Jackie wants those abs.
She spent half of the show in the air and yes, she was singing live.
A true gymnast.
Singing "Just Give Me a Reason." I lost it in the end. Leo handed me hot dog napkins to wipe my tears with. Go cry for yourself below as you indulge in her delectable husband:
Yummy live scene from the video "Try." Watch it here:
My favorite pic. Jackie also wants those thighs. So do I.
I teared up when she sang "Family Portrait."
I think she was singing "Who Knew" here.
She went old school and sang a mix from her first album "Can't Take Me Home." Check out the shoes, Sophia.
Performing one of my faves, "There You Go."
She's the real Tinkerbell!
P!NK flew high over the Staples Center.
People reached out for her and took pics.
This is Leo's favorite shot.
Performing "Glitter," right before she was up in the air again. This one made my lip quiver.
Los callejones.
Don't think, just buy.
Since Jackie spent three times the amount on her flight than I did on her P!NK entrance, I wanted to maximize our Sunday with the family to make her weekend get-away worth her money. My initial plan was to drive to Old Town San Diego. Last year we didn't have time to make the stop on our way back from the Gaslamp District and Seaport Village when we visited in April for my dad's birthday. But since we got up late, the three hour round-trip didn't seem convenient anymore. So I scanned a daily newspaper in Spanish, Hoy, run by The Los Angeles Times and found a free event in Long Beach at MOLAA, the Museum of Latin American Art. There was going to be live entertainment like dancing and music, food trucks, and of course, exhibits. Once me, Jackie, and Leo agreed on this outing, I shipped Jackie to the shower. By 2:30pm, we were all finally ready to head out. Except that now it seemed too late to go to the museum also since it closed at 5pm. So we spent about thirty minutes searching the web for something we could do close by and I don't know how, but we ended up in the Downtown Los Angeles' fashion district. The last thing I wanted to do was shop. I had shopped for a month searching for the perfect outfit for the concert and I didn't want to waste any more time and money. Yet, there I was, dodging people from all walks of life in the swap meet-like atmosphere. I blamed Leo for the destination and he asked me to just be happy. After considering it, I changed my attitude since Jackie seemed not to mind at all. She ended up finding a blouse and a couple of fashion rings.
But choosing a place to visit wasn't the hardest task of the day. Agreeing on dinner is always the most complicated ordeal for my family. I wish my dad would just surprise us by taking us somewhere nice and different instead of insisting on telling him where to go. My mom never offers opinions either, yet is quick to oppose our suggestions. We sat in my dad's van for another half an hour while Jackie and Leo searched for local eateries on their phones until the batteries died. My mom actually spoke up when she said she didn't want to try any more of Jackie's ethnic food favorites, like pho or Thai, where the only thing she tasted was white rice. This prompted Leo to search for a Korean place. When he said the word bulgogi, I lost it. I had been so disappointed with the turn of events of that Sunday that in my weakened state I said, "Bulgogi pho thai," to lift my own spirits and laughed so hard that it if felt I had done 100 crunches.
After Jackie quit looking for restaurants, my dad spoke up. He mentioned a restaurant called El Pescador and that's where we headed.
This image tells the story of my family.
Jackie's not pretending- I witnessed her finishing off other people's drinks when we were in college.
Jackie and me.
Jackie and me again, without salt.
The waitress told us to ring the button when we were ready to order. I don't think it worked since Jackie rang it three times before we saw her again.
Because my strawberry margarita was so good and only $5.50, I ordered a second one before I even finished the first one.
Thirty minutes later. Ugh. I'm gassy just thinking about it.
Leo and I left L.A. around 8:30pm because we were going to be up before the sun on Monday. It was going to be my friend Maria's 31st birthday and we were going to partake in an adventure with her: we were going to ride a hot air balloon over the Coachella Valley!
The ride was going to start at surise. Since we live an hour from the departure site, I was up at 3am. I had warned my other friend Susanna the day before that we were going to pick her up by 5am so we could make good time. And everything ran as scheduled. There was dense fog driving to Susanna's but it dissipated once we got on the freeway.
Choosing to take part in such an activity with Maria wasn't an easy decision. It's an expensive experience, $150 per person. When Maria shared this information, my automatic response was no. I had dentist and car bills piling up. Plus I wanted to start shopping for a house. If I kept digging into my savings I might never have a place to call my own. But I thought about it. Riding a hot air balloon was something I had considered doing, in contrast to jumping off a place like my sister. Maria's invitation was perfect because I knew I would never go forward with such a plan on my own. Maria and Susanna told me YOLO, which took me a while to figure out, but I knew it was meant to be when a sweatshirt in the alleys of downtown L.A. had the same logo: You Only Live Once.
The time of the event was another put off but I told myself that it would be worth the experience. As Leo drove to Palm Desert, I stared at the dark sky imagining the hot air balloon floating up above, with nothing but hot air holding it up and I scared myself. I don't fear heights, just dips and falls, which is why I don't ride roller coasters. So I shook thoughts of the balloon crashing down away like an Etch-A-Sketch and tried to stay calm, focusing on the sun rays coming up.
We arrived at Palm Desert at 6am. The Balloons Above company workers drove us, Maria's family, and another family in town from central California to the departure site. Susanna and I joked that the drivers were going to kidnap us since the van we rode in had no windows. But when we got off, the view was spectacular. Our balloon was inflated half-way. We were told that once it was upright, we'd have to jump in before it took off without us. Everything happened so fast that we didn't have time to think twice about hopping on board. Me, Leo, and Susanna jumped in while Maria and her husband carried their two children into the basket despite the little boys' cries. We posed for a couple of pictures and before we knew it, we were floating 3,000 feet in the air.
This was our sight when we got off the van at the undesignated area.
6:30am never looked better!
Happy Birthday, amiga!
Right before take-off. (Photo: facebook.com/ballonsaboveinfo)
Up in the air, 3,000 feet.
Another balloon over the desert.
Totally worth the early morning wake-up call.
Como dijo Maria, this was the best Valentine's Day/Birthday/Anniversary present. Congratulations!
Who designs these neighborhoods?
You wanted one of us in the balloon, Jackie, here you go (Photo: Maria's new camera)
Las tres mosqueteras (Photo: Maria)
The other family rode in this balloon. Bee-you-tee-full!
Flame shot.
Sunrise.
Sigh.
Perfect fields.
Skeleton houses.
BFF's!
Our "captain" pointed out the crooked roads due to earthquakes.
Our shadow!
The landing. Folks on the ground grabbed our basket...
...and floated us over across the road where we touched ground.
The birthday girl parking our balloon.
The traditional champagne toast turned into three mimosas at 8:30 in the morning.
Leo told her to do that.
Group pic, courtesy of Balloons Above.
Bday girl and her commemorative glass!
I thought I was going to cross off Hot Air Balloon Ride from my bucket list but I didn't. I loved it so much that I wanted to do it year after year. I even thought, Wouldn't it be great to get engaged up there? That was until this morning when I heard that nineteen tourists died in Egypt when their balloon exploded. I shouldn't panic over what could have happened--I have to be thankful for our perfect ride thanks to our experienced pilot who calmed our nerves and helped us ride care-free for over an hour. It does sadden me, however, that that group of people wasn't able to enjoy their flight as much as we did. It was relaxing taking in the views as far as the Salton Sea and Big Bear. Maybe I'm not ready to scratch it off completely just yet...
After the main event, we gathered at IHOP to continue Maria's birthday celebration. Susanna and I were the happiest we've probably ever been at 9am, but who wouldn't be after champagne for breakfast. The giddiness wore off with the consumption of food which was followed by a food coma on the drive home.
I cannot, will not, complain about having to work ever again as long as every weekend is filled with new experiences and people that I love as this one was.
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