Day 31. Thirty one-day streak #2024SoL #SoLSC

You’re on a 12-day streak says my Jetpack notification. What are you talking about, Jetpack? Are you hallucinating? Did they teach you how to count in AI 101?

I’m on a 31-day streak, Jetpack, and you didn’t even notice. I did notice, yessiree, very sharp in my brain, strong to the finish line despite my selfcensorship, and lack of confidence. I can go very slow, but never quit.

Goodbye March, goodbye challenge, goodbye writer’s block, goodbye midnight EST, goodbye feeling pressured. goodbye to you all.

Wait! Do I want to say goodbye? Maybe a maybe?

To be continued…

Day 30. The phone call no mother wants to receive #2024SoL #SoLSC

Always complaining about the silence,

The “no messages” in your inbox,

The bragging of friends about how their children call them every day,

Or at least every Sunday.

The jokes you play with them,

Teasing them that you went into chemotherapy and they didn’t know because never reached out.

When you see them

They promised to be better,

But it has already become a bad habit.

Despite your own messages in the family chat,

In Instagram,

Just marked with ♥️ liked but your questions never answered.

They complain they’re too many.

It is just a monologue,

Or sometimes a dialogue,

With your own husband who is sitting next to you,

With his face also glued to the phone.

And one Sunday morning

You receive a phone call

From your brother who never calls you

And who answers Whatsapps messages in monosyllables.

And an Instagram direct message from a friend on the other side of the globe.

And then you know that that morning

your sister-in-law and one of your best friends have received a phone call almost simultaneously but in different continents

A phone call no mother wants to receive.

Day 29. Muffin becoming Poncho #2024SoL #SoLSC

Now that we are heading home still eight hours to go, I can grab Pia’s phone again and finish my story. If you want to know about my previous life, just jump here, but please come back. I don’t like to be misjudged. You need to get the full story.

I lived a fairly good life with Minnie. She was sweet, kind, and spoiled me with some limits. I couldn’t sleep with her on her bed. That was Gigi’s spot. You are right. Gigi was the spoiled queen. I was just a refugee that after the passing of my previous owner, her son didn’t want anything with me. Boarding at Minnie’s she developed a bond with me, and accepted me with open arms, but not open bed. I managed to bring my bed under hers, and there’s where I slept. Everyone said that I liked it there. No, I was forced to find a spot where I could still listen to Minnie’s breathing. Gigi made it very clear from the beginning that I couldn’t be on the bed. She laughed at my short legs and scary attitude. It’s true. I couldn’t jump on top of that bed. It was way too high. Still, Gigi was a huge factor of my inability and never gained privilege. And just like that, I developed a reputation. Minnie bought me a pink donut bed and knitted two beautiful shawls that I used until they were caked.

We were very good travelers with Minnie. Even though his son Paul who is a vet, decided that I couldn’t handle cars and started to give me drugs to travel well. Who did he think he was? I arrived at other places all droopy with no sense of time more scared than ever. Eventually Minnie didn’t even bother to take me on her trips. We were boarded at five star Bear Paws Veterinary. But whenever she returned, we always stopped at Dairy Queen and got an ice cream. That did the trick. My little brain forgot all my troubles and just focused on the good things, like ice cream falling from my snout! and getting in my tender jaws.

When Steve and Pia visited Minnie, I was scared of their dogs, Buck and Clyde. Buck was very confident of himself and jumped on Minnie’s lap as he owned the place. Clyde couldn’t see anything and kept tripping on the water bowl making Minnie sigh. She thought it was me. I’m pretty sure. When Pia asked if she could take us on a run, Minnie just shook her head and said: you can take Gigi, but Muffin, he doesn’t like to run. And sure enough, I was laying on my blankets under Minnie’s bed, not very sure what to do. When you develop a wimpy reputation there’s not too much to do.

Things went South when Minnie fell right before one of her granddaughters wedding and broke her hip. It was a good thing though that everyone was there, since they were able to discuss what was going to happen with Minnie. I remember visiting her at the hospital. We were missing her dearly. Eventually the truth came through. Her daughters decided that her home couldn’t have carpet and in a very efficient way they stripped that house for every single carpet and rug, leaving the bare floors so nude that I started shaking. They had discovered my last developmental phobia, bare floors. At this state of the affairs I didn’t even eat because the plate with food was placed in such a position that I had to walk at least ten feet on plain bare floors. That was too much.

Days passed and 2020 arrived. Minnie wasn’t looking well and didn’t want to draw anybody’s attention. COVID hit, and she knew that she had something worse than the virus. Her children took turns and came to stay with her until her last days in August of that year. She was in lots of pain and I hung out on her lap every time she was in the living room. We watched movies, listened to audiobooks and barely ate. After her passing things happened very fast. All the things inside the house were put into different trailers and trucks. Her children got together and decided who was going to keep what. Gigi immediately ran towards the vet son and charmed his wife promising her that she would be the best girl ever, and would never pee on the Christmas tree at the entrance of her house, as Buck did once and never again was allowed in their house again.

I was alone in the empty house. I heard my name and the siblings discussing. Who would take Muffin?

—Not me.

—Not me.

—Not me.

—If nobody wants him I will take him to Virginia—the youngest daughter whipped.

—You can’t take him across the US. Besides, you need to ask your husband if he agrees.

Anyway. It was painful to watch all these humans deciding my destiny or my worthlessness.

At one point of the heated discussion, Steve and Pia glanced at each other.

—We should keep him, they whispered. —Yes, we should, poor Muffin.

And voilá, my destiny was decided. I was going to become an Oregonian.

They put me in their truck next to Buck and Clyde after the vet son gave me some sleeping drugs. We drove for around 10 hours, and when we crossed to the Oregon border, Steve said

—The first thing we need to do is get rid of your name, Muffin. I think it gave you a complex.

—and we need to get rid of the sleeping drugs. I think they don’t allow you to be yourself — said Pia.

When I entered the Dove Road home, I wasn’t Muffin anymore. I became Poncho and embraced the name joyfully.

Day 28. Top 20 lists of 3s #2024SoL #SoLSC

Trying to start early today, to see if I can finish before Eastern midnight.Terje and many more people have this list writing exercise that I’m going to try. To be clear, I’m not a list person. I have tried but as soon as I write a list, I forget to check it. With google calendar I’m much better at keeping track of what I have to do. I have tried so many times using planners but never use them for the right day or year. They all end up as notebooks where I write random things.

Here we go, here are my top ten lists of three, in the order that came to my brain.

I. Muffins

1. Raisin bran

2. Cranberry

3. Carrot

II. Movies

1. Foreign Indie

2. Dramas

3. Outdoor sports documentary

III. Books I’m reading

1. Belonging Through a Culture of Dignity: The Keys to Successful Equity Implementation by Floyd Cobb and John Krownapple

2. Small Places by Jamaica Kincaid

3. Autobiography of my mother by Jamaica Kincaid

IV. Reality shows

1. Survivor

2. Amazing race

3. ???? I really don’t watch too much TV.

V. Fruits

1. Mangos

2. Cherries

3. Bananas (they are so convenience when you are hungry)

VI. Sports

1. Biking

2. Hiking

3. Swimming

VII. Important activities

1. Reading

2. Writing

3. Storytelling

VIII. Priorities

1. Son and daughter; husband

2. Family and friends

3. Sense of belonging and agency through books and information fluency for every child

IX. Music

1. Baroque

2. Indie Rock

3. Indie Latin

X. Hot drinks

1. Chai Latte

2. Coffee latte

3. Hot cocoa

XI. People I saw today

1. Husband

2. Sister-in-law

3. Sister-in-law significant other

XII. Animals I saw today

1. Wild turkeys

2. Horses

3. Deer

XIII. Favorite memories from childhood

1. Going to a lake camping every summer

2. Listen to my dad telling us stories

3. Playing with my youngest brother in the backyard

XIV. Awesome places that I have seen

1. Malalcahuello, Chile

2. Crater Lake Rim on my bike

3. Going to the sun (and down) in Montana biking

XV. Mountains that I have climbed

1. Aconcagua

2. Mt. St. Helens

3. Lonquimay volcano

XVI. Places I would like to visit

1. Trekking Nepal and Everest Basecamp

2. Return to Thailand

3. Serengueti

XVII. Pains I wish I didn’t have

1. Tight heart for my nephew

2. Dryness in my eyes

3. Migraines

XVIII. Things I can live without

1. Alcohol

2. Tobacco

3. Weed

XIX. Fears

1. Someone younger than me dies

2. My house burns because of my fault

3. I become a burden to my family

XX. Happiness

1. Spending time with our children

2. Traveling alone to unknown places

3. Enjoying a good book with a hot latte on a sunny Saturday morning.

After I finished the top ten, I thought that it was too easy so I kept going for the 20 top lists of three. I sinned of gluttony.

Day 26. Skiing birthday #2024SoL #SoLSC

Only six more days of writing frantically.

Today is my daughter’s birthday and we have the privilege to spend it with her. I think I haven’t spent her birthday with her since 2019.

She loves her birthday and always manages to celebrate it not just one day but several days. When she was little she asked us to celebrate it three times. One with her family, one with friends from schools and one with her friends from the after school program she was attending while we worked.

When she was in elementary school I went to her classroom and read to her class. When she turned 18 I went to her physics class and read to her class in Spain. I brought sodas and cake and all her IB friends were delighted that they were skipping physics.

Now, ten years later, we came to visit her in Missoula where she is taking an EMT course while working as a manager of youth expeditions for a nonprofit organization.

And today we went skiing at Discovery. After 14 runs we are heading to Missoula because she doesn’t want to miss her class that starts at 5 pm.

We are so proud of her and as her brother told her in a message ( he couldn’t ask for a better sister) we couldn’t ask for a better daughter.

Happy birthday, Matilde!

Day 25. Right now #2024SoL #SoLSC

When you are on vacation your days are all mixed up.

I was looking for inspiration and found it on Terje’s slice “Right now.”

Right now I’m

Writing this slice on my phone laying on my bed in a Missoula Airbnb. It’s in a basement so it’s kind of dark even when it’s only 2:30 pm.

Hearing my stomach grumbling. I’m hungry.

Smelling the sausages my husband is cooking. I can’t wait until they are ready.

Feeling my mouth dry. I should drink some water.

Thinking about my nephew and his family in Chile.

Trying to get my body less uptight

Maybe taking a nap after eating that awesome sausage?

Or go for a walk and get some fresh air?

Pressing publish and getting ready to send this slice to the cyberspace and having a sence of accomplishment.

Day 22 Mientras duermes/While you are sleeping #2024SoL #SoLSC

Today is #MultiFri

El mundo continúa, la gente trabaja, suda, come, ríe, se divierte, va al cine, hace el amor, se abraza, hace tareas, compra, vende, tirita, hace deporte, se empantalla, reza y también duerme como tú. Yo me meto a la piscina. Son las 6 de la mañana. Me desperté cansada y tuve que batallar para levantarme. Solo sabía que no podía continuar el día sin nadar.

Preparo mi ropa de trabajo en el camarín. Me pongo las sandalias, voy a la ducha, y me dirijo a la piscina. Escaneo las pistas. Hay una vacía. Me meto y comienzo a nadar, lento, con cierta languidez. Nado crawl, espalda. Cuando comienzo las brazadas de pecho, me acuerdo de ti, de tu papá. Por una cosa que todavía no sé cómo explicar, cuando nado pecho me siento como tú, me convierto en ti y braceo con fuerza, resistiendo la fuerza del agua, la presión que ejerce en mis brazos y respiración. Cada patada es un clamor de clemencia, de ruego al universo que no te haga sufrir, y que te deje tranquilo tu cráneo, tu cerebro, tu cabeza y te de la fuerza necesaria para despertar.

Hay diferentes formas de rezar. La mía es nadando mientras duermes.

————

While you are sleeping

The world goes on, people work, sweat, eat, laugh, have fun, go to the movies, make love, hug each other, do chores, buy, sell, shiver, play sports, get stuck in their screens, pray and also sleep like you. I go into the pool. It’s 6 in the morning. I woke up tired and had to struggle to get up. I just knew I couldn’t continue the day without swimming.

I prepare my work clothes in the dressing room. I put on my sandals, go to the shower, and head to the pool. I scan the lanes. There is an empty one. I get in and start swimming, slowly, with a certain languor. Crawl swim, backstroke. When I start breast strokes, I remember you, your dad. For something that I still don’t know how to explain, when I swim breaststroke I feel like you, I become you and I stroke hard, resisting the force of the water, the pressure it exerts on my arms and breathing. Each kick is a cry for mercy, of begging the universe not to make you suffer, and to leave your skull, your brain, your head alone and give you the strength necessary to wake up.

There are different ways of praying. Mine is swimming while you are sleeping.

Day 21. The guessing game #2024SoL #SoLSC

I pull over, look for my credit card in my purse while pressing the lever to open the gas tank. I had a couple of minutes before the meeting with my supervisor at 8:30 am.

— May I have regular, and fill it up please?

— Italian?

—What? (I thought I had the phrase well rehearsed). …

— ….

—If you’re asking me where I am originally from, no, I’m not Italian.

—Ok. But don’t tell me— He puts my card in the machine, enters the information, inserts the nozzle in the tank and returns me the card through the car window.

—I haven’t talked too much, how can you guess?

—You are definitely European!

—No, I’m not.

—Oh, shut, I was going to say Ukrainian but I know you are not Ukrainian.

—????

He goes to attend another customer and turns his head and yells

—Venezuelan?

—Nope.

—Argentinian?—he continues while going back and forth.

—No, but closer.

He cleans my back window that was very dusty. I felt bad because I was planning to wash the car today but mentally appreciate the gesture. He returns to finish filling my tank, closes the lid and puts the nozzle back in place.

—Do you want your receipt?

—Yes, please.

—Ok. I give up.

—Chile!

—Oh crap! I was just about to say Turkey!

— Thank you so much! Have a good daaaay! Byyyyeee!

There are days that I don’t know where I’m from.

–

Day 19.  My life before being Poncho #2024SoL #SoLSC

Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Today you will have the pleasure to have me, Poncho taking over Pia’s blog. As you all know it’s about time. I have been in this household for almost 4 years. I think I deserve a voice. Buck and Clyde already had the opportunity. To be precise Buck had written twice.

I am a Chiweenie as Matilde likes to describe me. The story that circulates in the family is that I was owned by an old lady in Montana that was a friend of Pia’s mother-in-law, Minnie. One day the lady asked Minnie to take care of me while she was going into surgery. I remember Steve and Pia visiting her and she lightly dismissed my presence as temporary. Days passed, and then weeks, and a month. When Minnie learned her friend died, I became a permanent resident at her home. My name at that time was Muffin and everyone that saw me laughed hysterically when they heard my name. According to Steve, that created in me a big complex.

I’m not going to lie. I was very squeamish. I didn’t like bare floors (I still don’t like them but can tolerate Pia’s home floor as long as I have a couple of rugs or blankets where I can jump into them once in a while). People don’t get it. I have very fine paws and long nails. The floor feels slippery and unstable). I was and still am very picky with food. At Minnie I could get away with it and get many treats or leftovers. Even ice cream! At Pia and Steve’s we have a very regimented diet consistent in just dry and boring food from Science Diet. Steve sometimes gets us treats but Pia, oh boy, she is very strict. The most we can get from her is an extra carrot. Steve sometimes has to hide the treats from her sight and even deny any wrongdoing.

I was afraid of everything and liked to stay under Minnie’s bed for long periods of time especially when she was laying in bed. When she was sitting on her la-z-boy, I loved to cuddle next to her. I have a big competition though. Her name was Gigi, a spoiled Boston terrier I couldn’t compete with for Minnie’s attention. So you figured. I have my reasons to be squeamish. But that’s not all. They didn’t know the origin of my story. Nobody knew the first 4 years of my life.

I was born in the outskirts of Tepic, Nayarit in Mexico. My family was humble but adventurous. We were 5 puppies raised by caring parents. They taught us all the tricks to survive on the streets, even though we had a home. Not very luxurious but it was a fun home, with three little girls that were literally in love with us. They called me Pikito. My siblings were given away but they kept me, I want to think because I was the cutest, but no, it was because I was the runt dog, the Wilbur of the Mexican Charlotte’s web. Still my life became very adventurous. I had the freedom to roam the streets of Tepic at my own leisure. Nobody really cared. Actually they laughed at my mischievous arrivals covered with cow poop, getting my nose beat up in a fight, tons of fleas, all my body painted in white, smelling like a carcass. You name it

I loved to lay down and enjoy the lazy sunny days also. You don’t get an idea how much I miss the warm dirt floors. I could lay there with my belly up for hours. It was all good until the day an American beach bum heading to Suyulita saw me in one of my endeavors and “rescued” me. I couldn’t even react when I woke up in an overcrowded shelter in Fresno, CA. I didn’t understand a word of what they were saying. Pretty soon I was driven to a place that was really, really cold that later I learned it was Havre, Montana. I couldn’t’t even imagine how much my real owners missed me and for how long they looked for me. So, I have my reasons to be squeamish.

It’s getting late now, and I’m afraid Pia will snap the phone from me. Next time I can sneak in and write, I will continue the tale of how I became Poncho.

Can you see? I was all over the Internet when I was Pikito.
Squeamish Muffin
With my beloved Minnie

Day 18. My mom’s rules in 1972 #2024SoL #SoLSC

When you arrive from school you need to hang up your jacket and put on your apron [ we were 5 children and my mom was not very keen to do too much laundry. We wore a uniform to go to school and when we arrive home we needed to wear an apron dress so we didn’t get our uniform dirty. I don’t recall my mom asking my brothers to do this. Where we girls dirtier?].

Do your homework and arrange your notebooks by the next day’s school schedule. [My mom’s obsession. to the point I thought the action of arranging the books according to our school schedule, was one word in Spanish (libros pororarios)].

Tidy up your night table drawer, your dresser and your desk. [I am lucky I didn’t marry my mom. My husband accept my messy side of the bed with no complains].

Keep clean and arrange the things that are on top of your dresser [ I can imagine how hard it was to handle 5 children between 8 and 15 years old]

DO NOT place things on top of your shelves and dresser. [ I don’t know if all this perfect world was a requirement of my mom or a complaining of my dad]

Make sure you close the door of your closet tight [the doors stayed open if you didn’t check].

Close the bathroom door and any other door that’s open [It drove my mom crazy to see doors open, especially the bathroom door. I can relate to the first door obsession].

Eat all your food [We grew up with the children of Biafra dying while we wasted food. Also she threat us with putting us shots of vitamins if we didn’t eat everything on the plate. Thanks to this, now I can’t leave anything on my plate even if I my painfully full].

Don’t fight [we were 5 children, people. What can you expect? Poor mother].

I’m going to call you sanctimonious. [I couldn’t find the right translation, but the highest insult we could receive from our mom, and it was directed only to my sister and I, was that we were beatas. I don’t know why at 10 and 12 years old we could be excessively or hypocritically pious. It coincide with the time my mom and dad distanced themselves from the Catholic Church. You never know].

I remember a couple other rules like make your bed, crack a little bit your room’s window open at night so you get fresh air (even in winter); take a walk around the block if you are bored, and when we were teens always throwing this question at 2 pm Is it too much to ask that everyone is dressed and not in pajamas at 1:30 pm so we can have lunch? My dad was leading us with this example during the weekends, and drove my mom nuts.

My diary entry of June 15, 1972 – 10 years old

Day 17.  Green is the color of hope #2024SoL #SoLSC

Looking around my house all things green.

The blanket covering one of my dogs peering from underneath, some geometric figures on the kilim rug my feet are resting on, dirty trousers piled up on a chair, a scarf in one of the cubbies of the IKEA furniture, some threads on my sweater, the junipers outside my window, a folder my husband left in the dining room, an old chair we inherited from my parents, the leaves of the Spanish hand painted tiles of our dining table and the poinsettia plant that’s still alive since Christmas, one pen buried among so many knickknacks we have on top of the kitchen counter top, dried leaves dying on a vase since Valentine’s day, the outfit my mother in law is wearing on a photograph we are hanging on one wall, the fake pimientos in one corner, my hopes for the recuperation of my nephew.