Monday, August 31, 2009

Baby's first words in the morning

Ever since Jimi could talk the first thing he says in the morning is:

"I wan thumthin ta dreeenk"







Every day I am accustomed to this. Today it was still dark in the room and Jimi who comes in the middle of the night to cuddle with me and had already punched me in the face a few times stirs and says his customary soft spoken baby lisp, sounds like a touch of cartoon voice with helium:

" I wan.............."

I was waiting for the thumthin ta dreeenk part but all that he said was.... "my daddy"



Sunday, August 30, 2009

Get naked and spread um. Our US Immigration process

Did you know that when you go through the US Immigration Process (required Medical Examination) you have to get completely naked and men even have to have their penis examined. I wonder if women have to get a vaginal examination...? Well, I must say that I think it is wrong and Invasive.

Swine Flu Conspiracy - Mexico vs. US

So did anyone know that while the US implied this huge infection of the swine flu from Mexico, that simultaneously down in Mexico the Media was implying that the US planted the swine flu in Mexico. They were saying that the swine flu broke out just a few days after Obama's visit. I never had a chance to mention that.... thought it was interesting.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Artifical butt cheek inserts, virtual glasses, cool stuff

When I was flying back from Mexico I read the US Airways Sky Mall Magazine. It has some of the coolest stuff! I don't know if it is because I've been in Mexico for a few years but I was really amazed that you can really buy all this stuff. I wonder if the photos were digitally enhanced...? Hmm am I a sucker?

I didn't believe the stuff in Mexico, but I guess since the magazine was American I believed it more....?

Anyway, the very last page had the awesomest virtual glasses. You put them on to watch movies or play games, its a wide screen tv in your glasses. I wanted to post a link to it but you have to log in with your dividend miles. I'm sure if you search for viritual glasses you can find it. They are staight out of star trek.

I was thinking, all I need is a tummy tuck, some artificial butt cheeks, and the lip plumper and I'd be all set. - Update I found this on Amazon -

Thursday, August 27, 2009

At the moment apart - and scattered

Here are some photos from the Mexico Trip.

Cartoons are running on the TV and not annoying me like they do sometimes. The babies are just about out. I am sitting on my "The computer is Personal again" new laptop in a Red Lion Hotel. The Air Conditioner is on at a steady 69. My fingers click as I type this. We just got off of the webcam, my love and I. I was wondering if we were happier being apart. It is sort of hard to explain. All this moving around and shuffling and really homelessness. We were stressed out the entire time we were together.

Homelessness means to me that we 'have not' the steady home where you finally get home after a trip or a hard day and throw off your clothes and go lay down on your favorite chair or your own little cubby hole.

When we left Puerto Vallarta in April that was our home. I went back to Mexico on June 30 and we spent the entire 2 months moving around constantly. Puerto Vallarta one week, Morelia 2 weeks, Cidudad Juarez 1 week, Morelia 3 weeks, Puerto Vallarta 2 weeks which is where my eldest son and his friend came to stay with us.

Here back in Portland outside my window is a pool. Here by the Airport the landscape has changed alot in the past 10 years. I even saw a lady swimming today. It was hot. Very Hot for Portland. I guess it is gods acclimation for us to not come back to a cold climate.

My computer is wide, it is a huge difference from the mini I just bought and gave to E. He is so computer savy now. Doing webcam with me, checking myspace, email.

My head aches and my nerves are frazzled. I always get sick for a few days after I fly. And with all the stress of running around my head. Must find apartment, must find car. run rush, eat, feed children, go go go go. No June, please stop. Jimi Come here, Jimi, come here.

When we find a place and get a schedule everything will calm down and be more manageabile. Oh and enrique's Canada Visa was approved...... soon we will travel on the weekends from Portland To Vancouver Canada.... so we will see him weekly. .....

Meanwhile. I am SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO Excited about going back to school.

Hope you enjoy the photos from the MexicoTrip. Sorry the story is so disjointed. But that is how I feel right now.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

article about a town in Sonora about coyotes and a migrant shelter

I just liked this article. It seems so honest and Icould picture what he said so clearly:



The Business of Human Smuggling on the Mexican Border


The importance of finding a guide you can trust.


By Sacha Feinman


Slate, August 20, 2009


http://www.slate.com/id/2225315/entry/2225316/





Altar, Mexico -- I hadn't yet taken 10 steps off the bus when I made eye contact with someone for the first time.





'Are you going north?' he hissed, walking quickly toward me. 'Let's go. Let's go,' he implored.





A strange way to be welcomed someplace, no doubt, though the question is the only one of any real import here, and it often takes the place of a proper greeting. Sitting just 60 miles south of the Arizona-Mexico border, Altar, in Sonora state, is a place unlike any other. Once a quiet community of farmers and ranchers, this dusty desert town of 8,000 is now one of the most important staging points for the movement of undocumented workers. Migrants from all over Mexico and various Central and South American countries come here to find a guide who will take them through the dangerous desert crossing and into the United States.





The entire economy of Altar is based on the business of human smuggling. Rows of shops sell all the materials necessary for the border crossing. Backpacks, canned goods, and electrolyte-infused soft drinks are sold everywhere. Headhunters who work for the town's coyotes pass the day looking for new customers. Their job is to spot Altar's newest arrivals and sell them on a guide who knows the way into Arizona. They are fast talkers and hustlers, willing to promise anything to drum up business.





It is a disorienting sensation, arriving in Altar. The town feels like something out of an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti Western. When you step into the central plaza, dozens of strangers assess you, wondering what exactly you are doing here, while contemplating the ways a profit might be generated off your presence. A bodega selling cold beer and potato chips only adds to the effect; it features a slot machine that plays the theme music of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly over and over again.





During the hot spring and summer months, most business transactions take place during the morning hours. By the time I arrive, it is 3 in the afternoon, and the plaza has nearly emptied out for the day. Dogs lie about on patches of cracked earth, too lazy to react to the flies that blanket them. Migrants sit under what little shade they can find, clutching their backpacks and staring off into the horizon. They are waiting. Maybe they are short of the money needed to pay for the trip and are hoping for a family member to arrange a wire transfer. Perhaps their guide told them that the Border Patrol is out in force today and it is best to wait until tomorrow.





This is the pattern of life here. For the migrants in Altar, passing the time in silence, preferably in one of the few patches of shade, is the day's main activity. Some even sleep in the plaza, though others prefer to pay rent at one of the town's flophouses. More plentiful and affordable than motels, they are communal rooms densely packed with rows of bunk beds. A migrant's 40 pesos ($3) rents a piece of plywood and a tattered blanket rather than a proper mattress.





With my bags in tow, I make my way to the Community Center for the Assistance of Migrants and the Needy (in Spanish, Centro Comunitario de Atención al Migrante y Necesitado). CCAMYN is Altar's only free shelter. It is supported by the local church and run by Marcos Burruel, a remarkable man who once worked as a quality-control supervisor at the Tecate beer factory in Baja, Mexico. He was charged with smelling each batch of the freshly brewed product to ensure that nothing was off. One profession would seem to have little to do with the other, though Marcos found the common link.





As he explains it, 'There are many different types of people who come through Altar and this shelter. There are the very good, the good, the normal, the bad, and the very bad. My job is to determine who is who and to protect the people that need my help.'





Marcos never turns away anyone who comes asking for a free meal. But visitors looking to spend the night and enjoy the comfort of a real mattress and an actual bed sheet must first make it past his discerning nose.





A migrant's first stop upon arrival at the shelter is a wobbly plastic chair in front of Marcos' desk. Other than a crucifix hanging from the far wall, the room is free of decoration. In quick succession, Marcos asks his guests a series of questions. Name, age, marital status, and hometown are all registered before he delves deeper.





'Did you already try to cross? Yes? And the Border Patrol caught you and shipped you back? How many people were in your group? What was the cost of your guide? And the narcos … how steep was the tax—how much did you pay them before you were allowed to leave Altar? What about the driver who drove you up to the border—how much did he charge?'





Marcos knows the answers to each of these questions before he asks them. How his guest responds, however, allows him to differentiate between a migrant in need of help and a lying stranger, someone who has come to the shelter with an ulterior motive. It also presents a great opportunity for me to learn how Altar works.





The first man Marcos interviewed went by the name Orlando, and he didn't conform to the migrant stereotype. Sporting a gold tooth and an expensive-looking watch on his left wrist, he answered every question confidently. Nevertheless, he was told he could only stay for dinner. After Orlando left the room, Marcos explained.





'He's a coyote, here looking for customers,' he said. 'I try never to turn away anyone who asks me for food, but he definitely will not spend the night.'





Next up was Jose. Born in the state of Hidalgo, he claimed to have been caught and deported by Border Patrol that very day.





'And how much was the tax you had to pay the narcos?'





Jose was confused. 'What tax?' he asked.





'The narcos, the mafia ... no one gets in those vans if they don't pay the tax first. How much did you have to pay them?'





Jose looked at his feet, and after a pause, responded.





'Five hundred pesos,' he answered cautiously. His response was a question as much it was a statement.





Marcos shook his head, sure that a real migrant who had crossed recently would know that the tax is much higher. 'You'll have to leave after dinner,' he said.





Antonio followed, and it was instantly clear that he was the real thing. An older man carrying a beat-up backpack, he had a week's worth of stubble and walked with a pronounced limp. The question-and-answer session seemed to be going well, until Marcos paused, leaning forward slightly.





'And how many beers did you drink today?' he finally asked.





Antonio was clearly startled. 'None,' he replied.





'With respect, I know you've been drinking today. How many beers?'





'I haven't had anything to drink,' Antonio reiterated.





'Listen. It's a rule. You can't have alcohol in your body and stay here. I have an incredible sense of smell. It's a gift, and I thank God for it every day. I can smell beer on your breath. I know you've been drinking. Just tell me: How much have you had to drink today?'





Antonio relented. 'Two beers,' he said, 'I've had two beers today.'





'Well, then,' answered Marcos, 'I'm sorry, but you can't stay the night.'





Of the six men he who filed through, only one was given permission to sleep at the shelter.





'We don't have many resources; we have to be selective about who we help,' Marcos would later explain. 'I have to protect those who need protection, and I have to offer help only to those who are truly migrants. Those are the people this shelter is meant for. It's not too difficult to spot a real migrant. He will come here with his backpack, he'll be dirty, and he will have trouble walking, all because of the desert. And he'll tell you that all he wants is to go home, that he doesn't want anything more to do with the United States.'





After a quiet dinner, I am shown to the dormitory. The sun has set, and Marcos is preparing to leave. The shelter has no room in the budget to hire a night watchman, so guests are locked inside until sunrise. As I lay on my bed, three additional guests are admitted. They file in quickly, the door closing behind them. No one makes eye contact or acknowledges anyone else's presence. Everyone keeps one hand on their bags as they drift off to sleep.





The bed is clean, if a bit uncomfortable. A single spring pokes upward from the middle of the mattress. Trying to avoid it, I sleep on my side. It's a battle fought in vain, though; an unfortunate shift results in a sharp stab to my lower back. The sleep had been shallow and uneasy, anyway, and I am now fully awake. There is no clock on the wall, but the window frames a pitch-black desert night, the sky clear and filled with stars. It must be about 3 a.m.





The room is rather cramped, mostly because of the number of bunk beds stacked together. One of the migrants snores loudly. He fills the rooms with the sound of a motorcycle failing to start again and again. In the bed next to me, another migrant is masturbating underneath his blanket. With his climax, he releases a deep sigh, sounding as though a priest has just exorcised him.





I lie on my back, allowing the spring to dig into me. I'll just have to wait out the rest of the night. There is no use going back to sleep after witnessing a thing like that.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

WHAT STATE DO YOU LIVE IN, AND DO YOU WANT TO HELP ADVOCATE FOR REUNITING FAMILIES?

Help - - - -if you follow my blog and you are from any of the below states also listed on this link. http://judiciary.senate.gov/about/members.cfm



Alabama
Arizona
California
Delaware
Illinois
Iowa
Maryland
Minnesota
New York
Oklahoma
Pennsylvania
Rhode Island
South Carolina
Texas
Utah
Vermont
Wisconsin


AND



If you are interested in advocating for immigration reform right now is the perfect time: check out the American Families United Yahoo Group to find out what you can do. THIS IS A KEY TIME TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE RIGHT NOW. PLEASE HELP! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/afuwaiver/







Sunday, August 16, 2009

My days are numbered in Puerto Vallarta












The tile burned my bare feet. Why does it burn? What is making it so hot? I was standing in the kitchen looking out the balcony and patio which was about 20 feet away. I noticed that today the sunset and clouds formed even lines in the sunset. Not like yesterday when the clouds were blue and formed an illusion of buildings in the skyline above the ocean horizon with a pink and orange sky behind. The A/C doesn’t reach out this far. I start to feel stifled. My head feels like it is humming. Today I have to rest. Once to the pool is all I will do for today, don't put the ears in. I walk back into the bedroom and laydown and pick up the remote.



In mexico I feel more sick. I hate to say it, I hate to write it, I hate to release THAT to the universe. That is one reason I do not talk too much about my health on my blog. But the truth is I have a few medical conditions that seem to be aggravated in Mexico. Numero Uno - High blood pressure, Numero dos - kidney stones. And about 5 more miscellaneous items that if I went into you would probably kick your computer and yell at me for sounding like a hypocondriac. That is part of the negative crap I DON’T want to talk about. But since I have gotten out of my spiritual practice for about 2 weeks or so… It doesn’t seem so far off to just speak frankly about it now.

One week ago I was in Central Mexico in “el Rancho”, for any new readers that means a house that is a very traditional Mexican style, with farm anmals and a pila (concrete water tank type thing - used for washing dishes etc) and usually a detached bathroom. I was there because we sold our house in Puerto Vallarta while I was in Portland, and I came back to visit my husband in a town by Morelia Michoacan Mexico. Then we looked airfare prices from Morelia to Portland and found out it is about ½ price to fly from Puerto Vallarta. So here we are. We will leave on August 25th.


My son, who is 17 wanted to come down to Mexico for a few weeks this summer and I DID not think he would enjoy “El Rancho” so I found an awesome deal. $555 for 14 nights in a condo that sleeps six in Puerto Vallarta on the beach. We actually have 7 here.... Because we talked Maria (mi suegra) into coming along.


And here we are. But I am in the room watching reality tv in the bedroom with the a/c running. We’ve been here 1 week tomorrow.


I just went up stairs and took some pictures of the sunset. (my favorite I added to the page) It has changed a little bit since I first started writing this.


I’m scared. I’m scared and excited. I am scared about going back to Portland without my husband. I am excited about starting school and following my dreams. I must keep my faith.
Enrique and I have been getting along a lot better than normal and also worse than normal. I have been irritable because of my health and he is irritable when he is not working. He said to me yesterday that I hate it in his town.

I don’t think I hate it. I don’t know........., you have to do what you have to do, right? I care for his mother and she is still in mourning and born and raised in that small town, where they judge you .

But meanwhile I am here, ear full of water, head a buzzing. Babies are sleeping. Hubby and Suegra walking. Son and friend running. And I am ok. I need to do my spiritual practice. It keeps me centered.
Peace out

Sunday, August 9, 2009

tab at the taco stand and False Advertisement




I've been thinking about these little tid bits in my experience and I've been meaning to write about them. 2 more things that I think are interesting.




(photo at a PV taco stand april 2008)



- When you go to a taco stand. If its your order is for here, you sit down and eat and then order more if you want and when you are all done. The taco preparer people ask YOU how much you had. And then you pay.

- On television I really think this is worse in Mexico. There are no rules on what a company can claim it's products do. I see infomercials and regular commercials where the advertiser claims ridiculous effects.
  • spray on varicose vein fix


  • rub on gel that looks like hair gel said to make you lose 20 lbs and several inches in 20 mintues.






Monday, August 3, 2009

I know why kids act out. After all I have a 17 year old.


Look at that face...She looks so sweet and well she is, sometimes. But could anyone guess that she was just hitting me repeatedly on my arm because she was demanding her movie.
(June and Daddy pictured left in our room in the Pueblo outside of Morelia, Michoacan)















Here we are again in the car waiting for Daddy to complete his business in the bank. She asked me if her nose was bleeding. I turned around and sure enough you could see blood inside her nose. But the reason is because she is picking it for entertainment OR NERVOUSNESS??. When I said, "No haces grosseros" which may or may not be correct spanish for don't do gross stuff. She responded by smiling a big rebellent satisfied smile. So I reached down without a word and turned off her Movie. We have a PS2 machine installed in the truck with a screen in the dash and Legally Blonde 2 was about to start.
Well this all turned into her screaming and kicking and pounding and HITTING MY arm. But I kept my cool. I didn't let it get to me. Though it did hurt. I tried to sympathize with her and use various techniques that I have read about in numerous books through the years.
I mean the truth is I know why my kids act up.
  • Sometimes it is because they are tired, or sick, or frustrtated
  • Sometimes it is for attention because the parents don't give enough attention for good behavior.
  • OR COULD IT BE.... THE CONSTANT MOVING AROUND BECAUSE OF OUR FUCKING BROKEN IMMIGRATION SYSTEM. whoops sorry that was my outburst.
I mean let's be honest here! Who wouldn't be tired, frustrated, and upset when you have to be moved from country to country back and forth. Part time separated from your father who has always been in your life every day up until then.
Right now I am participating in the Triple P parenting system. It is out of Australia and I saw a advertisement for it while I was in Portland. It said, "Do you have a 3 to 6 year old with Behavioral Problems? Get paid to participate in our study." I really needed money at the time and more importantly I needed some new ideas for dealing with my daughter. So far we have only watched the first 2 videos but I like the concepts so far. Though e is prone to spanking. That is why I am trying to get him to follow the same concepts with me, but how can we when we are separated by 3000 miles.
Has anyone even done a study on how immigration affects the children. Obviously the children that end up in public custody because both of their parents are deported will be scarred for life and untrusting and that is a higher priority than us. But this is still a problem, what about the American Citizens who's children have one of their parents ripped from their life, because, the parent crossed an imaginary line to find work or be close to their family. Does anyone even realize that this has traumatized our children too? What are we doing to our future generations?
Constantly moving back and forth, going to school in Mexico, going to school in Portland. I mean 2 different cultures. Sure I'm making these decisions to do this but just like my friend amanda said, we always have a choice, sometimes we may not like our choices but we always have a choice. I chose to try to unite my family when I can, but I just can't survive in Mexico anymore. But sure my children are stressed out.
She's acting out cause Daddy is heartbroken, Daddy is stressed and we've already started talking about how we have to leave Daddy in mexico in 3 weeks.
June Hysterically crying, "But I don't want to be apart from daddyyyy".
Me, "But do you want to live in Mexico?"
June, "No."
Poor baby 6 years old and faced with that. Yeah, I'd act out too.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

other tid bits about Mexico



Observations:

- There are advertisements of young american-looking women in a billboard style on the fronts of strip clubs. I always think, "I wonder if the girls inside really look like that?" Sometimes when I see the pictures of girls in bikini's looking sorta drunk I think "I wonder if those girls even know if their picture is up on a billboard?" I speculate it is because they were partying and someone took their picture and then used it at a graphic arts agency?

I think I got my answer recently. I say that because I was stopped at a stoplight, with my husband driving, and I was staring at one such billboard. Then I realized she looks familiar. That's Jessica Alba. lol. Can you believe it?

-I've always been sorta dissappointed that Mexico does not have enough drive throughs. Many McDonalds and Burger Kings do not have drive throughs. However, there are in most cities drive through mini markets. They are large round and you drive through the center. On each side are the refridgerators or chips etc.

Today we went through one. We pulled in and there was a cash register at the far end. We drove past and saw what drinks they had. A girl comes up and asked us what we wanted. Then she carried it to the cash register. We paid and they handed it to us then we drove out. PRETTY AWESOME if you aks me! I think they should totally have these in the US.

-I said people sell stuff in the streets but did I say what they sell? Well, they sell everything! But what I really wanted to point out is that often in random places you see prepared foods in plastic bags. Often it is produce, like cut up cucumbers or local vegetables, or fruit. I always think, "That cannot be sanitary". People walking around with bags of cut up food for how long in the very hot sun. Mexicans have stomachs of steel I think. Because it is everywhere you go. And I have never heard anyone EVER wondering if something like that is still fresh.

Another thing that CANNOT be good, I mean this cannot be ok, but people do it everywhere in Mexico. Dead chickens, plucked, partially prepared for cooking, in a glass case, waiting to be sold. For how long...? I am not sure but I am sure a few hours.