Sharing life.

Twenty-five.

That's how many steps it takes us to walk from our front door to our next-door neighbor's door.

Twenty-five steps.

And we walk those twenty-five steps dozens of times during the week (sometimes during one day, but that's not important right now).

Debbie ( the mom): "We made homemade enchiladas. Come for dinner."

Me: "I made arroz con pollo tonight. Can you bring a salad?"

Rafe (the dad): "Can we borrow an onion, some butter and a roll of paper towels?"

Our kids love each other. Their two oldest daughters are part of our regular Sunday Improv group.  They totally love introducing each other to classic movies.

Lucy babysits for their two youngest.

Eric and Rafe are great friends.

We share a meal every Friday evening, taking turns cooking.  The kids and the parents split up afterward, so we can talk about what's really happening in our lives.  They are friends, confidants, role models. When our two families are all together there are TWELVE (!) of us.

And so it goes.  We share community life at its finest. Organically. Not contrived. We just LOVE these people.

Me: "Rafe, it's my mom's birthday! Can you please come take pictures of my family?" 
(He just happens to be a FABULOUS photographer. Do I lead a charmed life, or what??)

So we take those twenty-five steps. Back and forth. Back and forth. Feeding. Helping. Borrowing stuff. Listening to each other. Driving together. Making plans. Watching movies.

Their kids: "We're making homemade pizzas tonight, Darbys. Come over at 5:30." 

The MYOP (make-your-own-pizza) was a particularly fun time. The best part of it was that it was completely spontaneous.
 
Make-your-own Pizzas

Ingredients:
Trader Joe's herb (pre-made) pizza dough
Trader Joe's pizza sauce

Assorted Cheeses:
shredded mild cheddar, jack, monterey, swiss, parmesan and mozzarella
 
Assorted toppings:
Buffalo mozzarella cheese slices
Pesto
Salami
Cooked chicken
Fresh tomatoes
Fresh diced garlic
Fresh basil
olive oil
pepperoni

Cook in a 450 degree (hot!) oven.
Cut the pizzas into small slices so that everyone can have a taste.  =D

Everyone gets at least half a pizza to add their own blend of toppings to.

The amazing variety  of pizzas. (The green and white one - pesto and chicken - was to die for!)

Add a big spinach salad and it becomes a MEAL.

And it occurs to me that as we go back and forth between our two homes, taking those twenty-five steps each way, making homemade pizzas together that we're not just sharing food, we're sharing LIFE. 

Thanks, Guajardos!  You make our lives SWEET.

Do you have neighbors that are like family?  Tell me.

Rockin' the house

So, Adam had a few of his buddies over the other night to play Rock Band.

The big selling point (besides "My mom will feed everyone") was....

"My mom will sooo kick butt er...do well... on vocals!"

And so they came and we played and took turns drumming and playing guitars and vocalizing. Out in the backyard, of course, with the giant screen.  (Our neighbors are no longer surprised by any of our antics. *sigh*) 

Sometime during the evening the boys decided that the vocalist had to wear The Rock Band Goggles of Death.

(How some people were talked into this by other people, I'll never know....)

But I will tell you this:
I love that these twenty-somethings still want to hang out here with us.
I love that they were so eager to have us play with them.
I love that there were no judgments, no "coolness," no tough exteriors.
We were all making fools of ourselves, singing at the top of our lungs and having a wonderful time.

Lucy and I were outnumbered ten to two, but we managed to hold our own with all those boys.
(Lucky for me, no one picked up the camera while I was wailing into the microphone, but that's not important right now. =D)

And, oh yeah..... guess who scored a 99% for her vocals?  ;-)

(Yes, sometimes I really do ROCK.)

I feel the power.

8 superheroes.
8 parents.
240 grapes.
1 murder.

It was New Year's Eve at the National Superhero Convention.
Sadly, the Blue Shadow had been found crushed to death before the convention started.

It was up to the Incredible League of Superheroes to solve the crime.

Back row: The Human Ape, Robotron, Supersleuth, The Brooder.

Front row: Windstorm, The Stapler, Shadowmasque, and Mysta.

They made a formidable team.
Although they all had a motive for murder and there were many clues to be sorted through, they all had alibis. *sigh*
Most of them air-tight. Except for one.

And so the heroes worked together to bring the killer to justice.

They did well, I think because they were so cooperative with the Local Law Enforcement.

It took my own super power of Spousal Persuasion to get him into this get-up.

Which makes me..... A Force to be Reckoned With.   ;-)

I'm a fool. *sigh*

I know it's been a while since I've written anything, but I trust my first-born kept you entertained while I was gone. (thanks, Amy Kikita!)

I have so much to tell you that I don't know where to start....

Okay, so my husband Eric had to go to Las Vegas to work.  And because I can be opportunistic sometimes (=D) I invited myself along.  Since Adam didn't have to work, I invited him along to keep me company.

So, I mentioned this to my online/blog friend, Amy Arnaz, and she invited us to come visit her and Desi in Boulder City (not far from Vegas).  Yes, I realize the story is taking a kind of surreal turn here, but that's not important right now....

Which is how Adam and I found ourselves in Boulder City, Nevada at the Historic Boulder Theatre watching Miss Amy and her ballerinas rehearse for their upcoming performance of The Nutcracker. 

 

We were already delighted by the quaintness of the town and the theater, not to mention getting to watch a sneak peek of The Nutcracker Ballet, when we spot one of the tech guys adjusting the lights on-stage. 

"Adam, that's Desi!"

"No, Mom. That's a tech guy."

That was no ordinary tech guy.

I was right. It was my beloved Desi.  Desi Arnaz, Jr.

Amy brought him right over and introduced us. (be still my heart. *sigh*)

And okay, for like about 30 seconds I was a bit nervous, but then... we started talking....

Can I just tell you how funny, and smart and well-read this man is?  I kept forgetting he was the son of Lucy and Desi - okay, well, of course, I didn't forget forget.  It's just that I was so enjoying sharing stories with my new friend, Desi. 

We talked and talked and talked.  About how he and Amy met and how they ended up in Boulder City.  About how his parents met.  About life in their small town.

We talked about his paternal grandfather, whom I knew was kind of a legendary political figure in Cuba.  I remember my parents always telling the story that the elder Desiderio was the mayor of Santiago de Cuba, but that his intention was not to actually run for mayor, but he was so popular that he won as the write-in candidate. Isn't that awesome?

He told me about how his dad left Cuba and kind of accidentally ended up in show business.  I told him my own "how I left Cuba" story.  We talked about Cuba now and about going back there someday. He told me about the time he met Arturo Sandoval and yes, Andy Garcia!!!  (He brought it up. Surreal. Shut up. I know.)

Desi has a wonderful sense of humor and again, I almost forgot about who his parents were since we were talking about so many different subjects (okay, yes, I know they are probably the most famous TV icons EVER, but I got distracted, okay?) until....

He did a dead-on, wild-eyed impression of his dad with that distinctive accent.  Shut. Up.  It was crazy-awesome!

Just when I thought it just couldn't get any more surreal, his friend, Billy, stopped by.....

Mr. Billy Hinsche.  Of Dino, Desi and Billy fame, of course,  and who later played with the Beach Boys!! (who I went to see as often as they played in L.A. all through the 70's, but that's not important right now). 

 

If I had taken the time to fantasize about how my encounter with Desi might have panned out, I don't think I would have been clever enough to add "and then Billy drops by for a visit."  Again, another treat!

Picture me as a young tween seeing these adorable faces of Dino, Desi, and Billy for the first time singing their hit, "I'm a Fool" (I actually even owned this record and wore down the grooves from being over-played - I was TEN, okay??):

Aren't they just FREAKING ADORABLE???  Do you see what I'm talking about here?

Okay. Sorry. I know I'm babbling a little.  I was just so surprised and delighted to meet these guys and to find they were so.... accessible and well....just plain nice.  I had a total personal-time-warp moment when I realized if called upon I could totally sing "I'm a Fool" from memory, but that's not important right now, either. 

They have since re-grouped (and un-grouped) as Ricci, Desi, and Billy.

After many hugs and kisses(!) and lovely parting gifts (an autographed live cd - YAY! and chocolate. =D) we had to say goodbye.

 

I was genuinely sad to go.  I felt like I was leaving old friends "de vida" - you know?

Thank you to the lovely Miss Amy, for the invitation.

 

And thanks to Desi and Billy for making my visit so wonderful and memorable.
You guys are awesome! 

I like to call this photo: Marta, Desi, and Billy.  That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? ;-)

 

I spent the rest of the afternoon replaying our visit and conversation (while Adam and I wandered about Las Vegas) and thinking once again that I really do lead a charmed life and then just look who I ran into at Madame Tussaud's:

 

That's right. Desi's mom.  ;-)

Luza & the Baseball Player

One of my nephews, Raphael (aka "Rafa") was celebrating his 40th birthday this weekend. 
(Hi Rafa! Happy Birthday!!)

His beautiful wife, Lisa threw him an absolutely fabulous birthday bash.  Of course, all his friends were in attendance, as well as his big, fat, Cuban family and his big, fat, Jewish family. (I should probably clarify at this point that Rafa's wife, Lisa, is Jewish, but that's not important right now.)

I had my mom this weekend, so it fell to me to make sure she was taken care of, got fed and stayed out of trouble during the party. 

I know what you're thinking:  "She's 94, Marta.  Exactly what kind of trouble would she be getting into?"

Okay. I'll tell you. 

But first, some background....

My mom is a Big Baseball Fanatic.  She will proudly tell you that she has NEVER missed a World Series for as long as she can remember.  When there wasn't a tv, she would listen to the games on the radio.  BIG FAN. 

In her personal collection of baseball stories, she likes to tell the one about how her father always said that he liked almost all American professional teams EXCEPT the Dodgers.  (To any Dodger Blue fans out there, just get over it. She's 94, okay?)

That's her line.  "I like every team, EXCEPT the Dodgers."  She likes to pull that one out as Series time approaches.

So back to the party... and the TROUBLE....

Lisa's brother, Shawn is a recently retired professional baseball player.  If you read his bio, you'll learn that he started his career with the Toronto Blue Jays in 1993,  until 2000 when he went to play for..... (you guessed it!) The LA Dodgers.  (To be fair he also played for the Arizona Diamondbacks 2005-06, and then the New York Mets 2006-07).

So I think it was Shawn's mom, Judy (who thinks that my mom is a kick even though Judy speaks no Spanish and my mom, Luza, speaks no English - go figure) who swears that Shawn speaks Spanish.  How the trouble began...

"Come here, Shawn-Honey, and talk Spanish to Rafa's grandma." (okay, if you haven't already surmised, the alcohol was flowing pretty freely at this point in the festivities.)

Obediently, Shawn starts speaking his broken high school Spanish to my mom asking where the library is. She in turn, who's pretty deaf anyway, thinks they're talking about baseball, because it's logical, he's a baseball player.

Se we take a huge detour from the "where is the library" discussion as she remembers her hatred of the Dodgers and feels compelled to share this with the former Dodger Right Fielder who is now practically family.

"Oye, Shawn, los Dodgers no sirven pa' nada!" she tells him and he understands that her opinion of the Dodgers is not a good one.  (we should have discussed the directions to the library, but that's not important right now. SIGH)
 
Two things are happening in this picture:
1) Shawn is sending me Vulcan mind messages that involve removing my mother forcibly from his body.
2) My mom is proudly telling Tony what she said to Shawn about the Dodgers sucking.
3) I collect my purse and my last remaining shred of dignity and announce that sadly it's time for us to go.

Kiss, Kiss, Everyone!
Yes, sorry. We have to leave. 
"Vamos, Mami!!"

Go, Dodgers!!   ;-)

Ay, Dios Mio.

(it will take me days to recover from this one.  Thanks Shawn, for being such a good sport!) =D

"It's not the years, honey. It's the mileage."

WARNING: I'm going to get all sappy and sentimental here and I'm going to be all nostalgic and even post old pictures.  Read on at your peril.  ;-)

I've been scrapbooking since I was a sophmore in high school. (which shows you that I was way ahead of my time, but that's not important right now.)

I had the time of my life. I was a junior varsity cheerleader. And I had the greatest friends in the world.

It was (seriously) the best high school experience any teenager could hope for.

I was All That and a Bag of Chips. (at least in my own mind =D)

But when it came time to go back for my high school reunion, I was nervous. I looked through my old yearbooks and my scrapbooks to prepare.
I felt like I was returning to the scene of the crime.
(Okay. Shut up. I admit it. I was a bundle of nerves. I'll bet I wasn't the only one.)

I realized early on that even after all this time, for better or worse, people probably only remembered the 16 year old me.  (I think "bubbly" was a word they used to describe me. SIGH)  And, you know, I got a little stuck in my worry over how I would be perceived now. 

Okay, so I was more than a little bit worried.

Would I recognize my old friends after all this time?  You know, relatively speaking, in the grand scheme of my life, this particular group of people were only present for a few of my formative years.

But what wonderful years they were!  We were so innocent and full of energy and excitement about life and the world and we loved music (Motown!), parties and pep rallies.

Just being together was enough.

St. Bernard High School in Playa del Rey, California. They called it The Trifecta Reunion because there were three classes to be reunited - 72, 73, and 74. 

Brilliant.

Usually these events are held in some nameless downtown ballroom which makes it seem more like a company dinner than a homecoming.  But by some stroke of genius, our reunion was held in the gym.  Oh, excuse me... in the M.P.B. - Multi-Purpose Building.  Do they still call it that, I wonder?

I went with my girlfriend, Mary. (Eric, would rather be set on fire than to attend another of these events with me, but that's not important right now.)  The gym M.P.B. was all lit up and we could hear music as we approached.  We both sort of panicked at that point and almost turned around. 

But something magical happened when we walked in through those old doors.

We traveled back in time. We were back in the M.P.B.  It was back in the early 70's.  And all of our friends were there. Just like a sock hop after a football game.  It felt like that anyway....

As we walked in, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles began to sing, "I Second That Emotion."  How amazing, I thought to myself.  That was my absolutely favorite song from that particular time in my life.  What a wonderfully welcoming coincidence!

Moments later, Alan, the coordinator of the event came running up -

"Did you hear that I played Smokey for you just now?"  

Shut. UP.  I swallowed the big lump in my throat, blinked back the tears and gave him a big hug.  And so began one of the most wonderful evenings I've experienced in my life.

Our (very small by today's standards) high school was like a tight-knit community and I was just so happy to see everyone again.  We hugged and we laughed and we remembered silly things about each other.  After the basic questions of "are you married?" and "do you have kids?" we segued into the "remember when's" and "you haven't changed at bits."  (Apparently, I haven't changed a bit! =D)

The entire evening was like my old scrapbook had come to life. We danced. We sang old songs by the Temptations, complete with all the moves.  What a delicious treat...

Here are some "Then and Nows":

Terence from Torrance. My first boyfriend. Took me to see Smokey Robinson and the Miracles at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles. I still have the ticket from that show. It cost exactly $5.00.  Can you imagine?  The opening act was Little Stevie Wonder.  Sweet, sweet memories.
He's still the only person on the planet who can still call me Mungo and live to tell the tale.

Mayra, Julie, Kim, and all the Marys. Some of you have been my friends since the 6th grade.
(Mayra and I went to the same Kindergarten in Cuba! How random is that?)
And how lucky am I to still call you friends? 

(yep, that's my mom in the background. Of course, the party was at my house. =D)
 

Notice that I'm still the token brunette trying to stay afloat in this sea of lovely blonds.

back row: Greg, Mary, Chris, Kim, Eileen.  front row: Colleen, Mayra, Mary, Me.

Homecoming 1971 with The Most Adorable Smitty. (back when I could still wear a miniskirt... sigh)

Aren't we just freakin' cute?

From the What Have I Got To Lose Category: Mark L. confessed that he spent most of his high school career just trying to bag one of us cheerleaders. He provided shoulder support when one needed to cry.

That's Mark on the right. Waiting with shoulder ready... Some things never change. =D

"You went to the Senior Dance with John R.??" (I wonder why this was hard to believe? Was it impossible to believe that he would have asked ME?  Or was HE the one who lucked out in this deal?)

 

We still weren't sure who's idea it was. But so glad we went!

Prom 1971. Chris and I had the best time. In spite of being upholstered into our outfits.  Crushed velvet and satin. Were we stylin' or what!?

 

I think I'm much more relaxed now. =D

Here's a close-up of the pyramid picture I posted a few days ago. Does anyone look familiar?

So just for one night, I got to be sixteen again. And laugh and be my silly ("bubbly") self and this is what I found:

Just being together was enough.

"How beautiful is youth!
How bright it gleams with its illusions, aspirations, dreams!
Book of Beginnings, Story without End,
Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend!"
                               ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There's always a ringleader...

I'm pretty sure it was my idea. (I say this because I have A LOT of pictures from that era of people stacked on top of each other in various formations, but that's not important right now.)

"Hey, let's make a human pyramid! You guys get down on the ground like this and ....."

They did it.
That's me up on the right - we made the headbands from crepe paper. It wasn't a fashion thing. It was just a really-fun-and-silly-teenage thing. The yearbook photographer captured this moment for posterity. 

I'm going to my 35 year class reunion tonight. 
(Yes, I'm that old. Shut up. =D)

Can't wait to see the adult version of these people. 
And, yes, I'll be sure to ask about the status of their backs.  ;-)

Kikita the Traveling Cook

Kikita here. I know I've told you before about my African friends and how I totally appreciate and adore them. Well, I just had another very Afro-Cuban evening.

Meet Exhibit A:  My dear friend Cedric.

He is studying to be a chef. Have any of you ever been friends with someone going to culinary school? Let me tell you how much fun it is . . . IT IS AWESOME. He is always experimenting and practicing for school. His roommates are lucky beneficiaries, as am I. Anyway, being that Mami is kind of a famous cociñera too, and I think I have that gene in me, I love discussing recipes and food with Cedric. I've taught him how to make Picadillo and how to take canned black beans and make them taste not so canned.

Well, I had a craving for Arroz con Pollo (it's one of my favorite dishes) and thought it would be fun to share it with Cedric. But there was NO WAY that just two of us should benefit from the dish that lasts for days . . . So I called Sheila. Her Mama is like a 2nd Mama to me and leaves for Africa next week, so I had no shame when I said, "I'm coming over to make Cuban food and I invited Cedric."

Because I am constantly cooking in other peoples homes, I have a small "java" (or is it spelled "jaba"? - either way it basically means "little bag") I take with me everywhere that has all the basic spices for every Cuban dish. On my way to Sheila's house, I wondered if she would have tongs to turn the chicken, but decided that of course she would. I also decided to take my olive oil just in case.

As she started helping me unpack my bag of ingredients (all those cans of things that go in the sofrito), she noticed the olive oil and said, "Why did you bring oil? We HAVE oil! What do you think we are? Savages?" (She was totally kidding)

We turn on some fabulous background music and I started to brown the chicken (while dancing, of course), I asked her for tongs, or some other device to turn the chicken, she handed me two wooden spoons says, "African household, we cook with wooden spoons."

She was laughing and went on to say that she had been meaning to buy some, and just hadn't had the chance. I made due with the spoons. Cedric, Mr. Top Chef, just sat back and laughed.

Now it was time for the sofrito. I tore apart the kitchen looking for a can-opener.

Nada.

Zip.

Zilch.

Zero.

"Umm . . . Sheila?"

She came into the kitchen and grabbed her "African" can-opener which consisted of a hammer and a really big knife.

Hey, don't knock it if you haven't tried it . . . it worked and that's what matters. :-)

We invited a couple more people to our impromtu dinner party and (as always) had plenty of left-overs to send home with people. (Cedric's roommates called me later to ask when I was coming over to make more Cuban food.)

But from now on, I'm adding tongs and a can-opener to my little bag.

"If everybody had an ocean..." or How I spent my summer vacation.

"If everybody had an ocean...across the U.S.A...."

Crystal Cove, Laguna Beach.

"...then everybody'd be surfin'....."   The Montage Hotel, Laguna Beach.

"...like Ca-li-for-ni-aaa..."  San Clemente Pier, North Side.

"You'll see them wearing their baggies. Huarache sandals too..."

San Clemente Pier, South Side. 

"...Bushy, bushy blond hairdos. Surfin' U.S.A..."  Crescent Bay, Laguna Beach.

"... You'll catch them surfin' at Del Mar...."  Del Mar, San Diego.

"...Ventura County Line..."  "...Santa Cruz and Trestles...." 

Trestles. San Clemente.  (Way to go, Josh!)

"...Australia's Narabine..."  "All over Manhattan... and down Doheny Way..."

Doheny Beach, Dana Point.

 

"...Everybody's gone surfin'.... Surfin' U.S.A..."

As I was starting to write this post, and I was looking through my pictures, I just now decided I'd make a film. It will take me a while to compose, of course, but the idea is there.  I'll be sure to post it when I'm through.

These pictures and captions are just the beginning of my really rocking storyboard for this project. 

So, besides taking pictures, and having this Beach Boys song playing in my head every single day....
I managed to leave my own mark.....

 

"Everybody's gone surfin'..... surfin' U.S.A...."

(Thanks especially to my beach buddy, Jana, for sitting and just enjoying those deliciously long summer beach days with me.)

Grounded

I'm grounded on Fridays.

It's not really a bad thing. I just like that it sounds dramatic. =D

It's not that I've done anything wrong or that I'm being punished in any way. It's just that on Fridays we have a group of young people in our home. That's right. Our house. Every Friday.

This started well over a year ago when all the junior high kids would get together at our house once a week to play improv games (like the tv show - "Who's Line is it Anyway?").  Well, last year's 8th graders went on to high school, but Jonathan decided to continue the tradition with his friends.

So, here we are again.  Every week since the beginning of the year, they've been meeting together, with Adam as their fearless leader.  Week after week they get to practice thinking on their feet, communicating ideas to each other, and getting comfortable in their own skin as they practice physical comedy. 

Here's a group of "unsocialized" homeschool kids who have found that they've grown together and learned from one another in a non-threatening atmosphere.  They've grown pretty confident in their abilities and they've learned that they are FUNNY.  They've gained skills that maybe they could have picked up in a formal drama class setting, only in this case, they get to try out their comedy muscles in a pretty well-controlled environment. (umm... is this a bad thing?)  Unless, of course,  you count those kids who eventually become the Class Clown, but gratefully, Adam graduated from high school four years ago and now he's got a great outlet to channel all that creative energy. ;-)

They've grown into a lovely troupe and all of them look forward to Improv at the Darbys every week.

From left to right:
Jonathan K., Aaron, Jonah, Jonathan D., Shoshana, Lucy, Tori, and Tessia. And yes, that's my Adam (Merrymaker in Chief) in the background. (sigh)

My job is to keep the snack table loaded and to throw out ideas.  A job that I do willingly and that, as a Cuban mother (and all-around smart-aleck), I'm very well suited for.  I love our time together every week, and so do they.

Maybe I should re-phrase my opening line...

It's not that I'm grounded on Fridays.  It's what happens here on Fridays that keeps me grounded.