La Casa de Leslie

Oh, the Things I've Learned & the Places I've Been

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Wed, 01 Feb 2023 13:00:00 +0000

Wow! I can't believe it's been so long since I've rummaged through this little corner of the blogosphere. If the amount of dust and debris left in the wake since my last appearance were to actually materialize, I'd be choking, wheezing, and reaching for my inhaler.

Do blogs even exist anymore?

One thing for certain is that it's been so long since my last blog post, or since I first started this blog back in 2009, I'm not the same person anymore. In the span of my absence, I've moved at least five times. I've had seven or eight different jobs. (Like in-home cooking lessons and working on the 2018 elections, just to name a few.) And I encountered a few struggles along the way. Oh, have there been struggles! Sometimes I felt so overwhelmed by my struggles, that I wasn't sure I'd make it through. Yet somehow, by the grace of God, I survived. Therapy helped too. A lot!

I'm still me at my core, yet I feel like I'm more me than I've ever been. It was through the aforementioned struggles that I've discovered who I am. I know what I want out of life, I know what I like and don't like, what I'm willing to tolerate, and what I won't. I've learned to reach out and ask for help. And most importantly, I've learned to advocate for myself and set boundaries, which for a recovering people pleaser like myself has been a huge game-changer. No is a powerful word and it can be a complete sentence too.

I've also realized that I need a hobby. A creative outlet for my musings. Something other than retail therapy. And writing fulfills those needs for me. So, here I am. It's 2023. I'm livin' it up in L.A. I'm pushing fifty. And... I'm a grandma!

Life is ever-changing and I'm just here to enjoy every twist and turn no matter how bumpy the ride may get. So stick around and let's see where this adventure takes us.

Three Months...

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Thu, 21 Jun 2018 19:06:00 +0000

It's been three months since I returned to the US.

In that time I renewed my California ID and driver's license, opened a bank account, switched to a US cell phone, rediscovered my love of driving, wrote my very first article for the Livestrong website, signed a contract to write my second cookbook, wrote said cookbook, reconnected with friends and family (which has been so good for my soul), brought my three eldest kiddies to the US for a one-month vacation, and took them to get their US ID's. (They're here until July 5th.)

Not too bad for my first three months.

But still, I feel like I've failed completely.

You'd think that I'd have all my ducks in a row and my life somewhat together by now, but my duck's seem to have scattered off to play hide & seek while I'm barely holding myself together with tape and glue.

I still don't have a real job. I'm broke AF and I don't have a steady income coming in. Oh, and as of 9 o'clock this morning I no longer have a car. (Hope's godfather graciously lent me a spare Suburban he had lying around, but I had to give it back today.)

So... I'm right back where I started three months ago.

And what's even worse is that I've failed my babies. I hadn't really taken them anywhere because I didn't have the money. And now I really can't take them anywhere because I don't have a car. At least they had a good time the week they spent with their aunt, who even took them to Disney. (For that I am grateful!)

My spirit is broken and I feel defeated. But I'm not ready to give up. I can feel my fighting spirit bubbling deep within me.

I just don't know what my next step is going to be.

I am however giving up trying to figure it all out on my own, because I have no clue what I'm doing. So, I'm putting it all in God's hands and letting Jesus take the wheel.

Where this adventure leads, I have no idea, but we shall see.

Starting Over

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Fri, 30 Mar 2018 00:44:00 +0000

Hi, my name is Leslie Harris and I'm embarking on a new journey.

I'm not a fan of vague social media posts, but in this instance, I kinda have to be. (You'll understand, in time.) Without going into too much detail, after having lived in Small Town, Mexico for almost 18 years, I have recently moved back to SoCal (southern California).

For now, it's just me.

I need to find a job, make (and save) some money, get a slew of legal affairs in order, and get back on my feet.

Sounds like the beginning of an exciting adventure, right? That's how I'm choosing to see things. Most of the time. But I'm also scared shitless.

What if I fail?

I packed as much as I could into one suitcase and walked across the Tijuana border with just a few bucks in my pocket. So, I'm basically starting over completely from scratch.

I'm 43 years old, overweight, and don't really have any marketable skills aside from loving to cook and being a people person. Oh, and I can write. I'm also bilingual. But that's it! Hence the reason I worry I'm going to end up in a homeless shelter or living on the streets. It happens. I experienced it firsthand as a kid, and it's not something I want to live through again.

Then there's the fact that this is the first time in my adult life that I've ever been out on my own.

It's a whole new world for me! It's also a lot to take in, and can be a little overwhelming. And don't even get me started on the rollercoaster of emotions.

To help keep me somewhat sane, I've decided to document my jourey of independence and self-discovery. You're more than welcome to come along for the ride. We'll laugh, we'll cry, we'll probably overshare because my filter is broken, and if we're lucky, eventually there will be whiskey to help wash it all down.

Let's Talk About Sex (Education)...

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 18:00:00 +0000

Can you believe it's the last week of January, already? Not only is this the last week of the first month of the new year, it's also the last week of Hope's extended Christmas vacation. One of the perks of being a high school student in Mexico is a two month Christmas vacation.

Last year, I didn't know if Hope was even going to be able to attend high school this school year. And now she is days away from starting her second semester of 10th grade, where all new books, subjects, and teachers await her. I never thought we'd get to this point in time.

As thankful that I am that Hope was finally able to attend high school, there was a short period of time when I wasn't sure I wanted Hope to attend high school after all.

You see, for the first seven weeks of the school year, the 10th graders were only given three subjects to study: Learning Abilities, Science Comprehension, and Human Sexuality. These subjects would only be covered during those first seven weeks, after which they'd start their regular curriculum with subjects like math and Spanish. The most memorable of the three subjects was of course Human Sexuality, especially the homework assignments.

I don't consider myself a prude at all. Sex is a natural, beautiful thing that I'm not afraid to talk about. I know that someday my sweet, innocent kiddies are going to grow up and have sex. I've had "the talk" with my older kiddies and answered their questions, honestly and to the best of my ability. And I'm all for kids these days learning about sexual responsibility, safe sex, birth control and all that good stuff. I just wasn't prepared for how it was presented to my young, impressionable daughter who was only 14 at the time, unlike most of her classmates who were already 15 and 16 years old.

The first assignment was to watch a documentary called, "Why is sex fun?" I'm not gonna lie, my first reaction upon leaning about that first assignment was, "Oh hell no!" I thought a Human Sexuality class was to educate and inform the kids and teach them to act responsibly, not encourage them to go out and have sex because it's FUN.

I watched the documentary first, to make sure Hope wasn't going to watch porn or something. Turns out the documentary was more of a scientific explanation of what happens in the brain, our blood stream and the rest of the body at the moment of orgasm. Not too bad. But the documentary could use a different title.

Another assignment was to list 10 forms of birth control. Again, I'm no prude, and a firm believer in safe sex, but come on, we are talking about my 14 year old little girl. Within seconds I rattled off a list of what I consider to be acceptable forms of birth control:

Birth control pills
Abstinence
Condoms & spermicides
Abstinence
Intrauterine device
Abstinence
Abstinence
Abstinence
Abstinence
Abstinence

Can you blame a mom for trying? Eventually, I gave Hope a real list of 10 different forms of birth control, that only mentioned abstinence once.

Later that week, Hope had to write reports on each of the 10 forms of birth control we listed. I thought that should be a safe enough task since she'd be using Wikipedia as her main source of information. I was wrong! Turns out, Wikipedia in español includes some pretty racy (and graphic) photos, illustrations and paintings. Not exactly what I wanted my child to be looking at. But I handled it with as much grace as I could muster.

Another assignment was to compile a list of sex toys. Yes, you read that correctly...SEX TOYS!!! There was no freakin' way I was going to let Hope Google "sex toys"! So I gave her a list of the tamest sex toys I could think of, all the while hoping and praying that she didn't ask me how I knew about these things. Hope must have felt the same way, because all she kept saying while writing the list down was, "Ew! I don't even want to know how or why you know about these things!"

Those seven weeks were filled with assignments regarding every aspect of human sexuality imaginable, that a lot of times pushed me way outside of my comfort zone, especially when it came to explaining it all to my little girl. But knowledge is power and I just had to keep reminding myself that it's better for her to learn about this stuff now and with the right information.

But there was one assignment that pushed me over the edge.

"Mom, guess what our assignment is for this week?"

"Do I even want to know?"

"Don't worry, it's not bad! We just have to look through the Kama Sutra and write about 25 sexual positions."

Considering all of the other assignments Hope had brought home in the past 6 weeks, I shouldn't have been as shocked or surprised by this particular assignment. But I was and it led to one of my Ricky Ricardo-like outbursts...

"Nothing bad?! Oh my freakin' God!!!! Are you serious??! What is your teacher thinking? Is he insane? Who in there right mind would have a bunch of horny and hormonal teenagers flipping through the Kama Sutra? No wonder there are so many pregnant teenagers around here! Is this why I fought so hard to get you into school? Mira que tiene cosa...."

I marched into the shop and demanded that Hubby drive up to the high school, so we could give the campus coordinator/principal who was teaching the class a piece of our minds. Hubby was just as ticked off when I filled him in on the details of Hope's homework assignment. Just as Hubby was about to start the truck, Hope, who was watching us from our front door, burst into uncontrollable laughter. Evil, doubled over, tears streaming down her face, on the verge of rolling on the floor kind of laughter.

Bwahahahaha!

Hubby and I weren't as amused, but thank goodness she was only joking about that final Human Sexuality assignment. I'm just glad it's over and I really hope the second semester starts with good old-fashioned subjects like reading, writing, and arithmetic.

The Little Boy Who Couldn't Take a Normal Christmas Photo

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Wed, 19 Dec 2012 18:00:00 +0000

Remember The Little Boy Who Never Wanted to go to School? Well, he's up to his old antics again, but this time he just can't sit still long enough for his mommy to take his picture for the family's Christmas card this year.

Jack is still a seven year old little boy who lives in a small, picturesque Mexican village. And he's still a very active (and healthy) little boy who loves to play soccer, basketball, baseball, and tazos. Jack's only problem is that he can't take a normal photograph. It's not that he doesn't like to have his picture taken, it's just that as soon as a camera is pointed directly at his face, his face starts to twitch and scrunches up into a thousand different poses, preventing him from taking a "normal" photograph.

Jack's mommy knows that "normal" is seriously overrated. It's just that she's gotten used to Jack's three very photogenic siblings, who rarely ever take a bad photo.

Take Jack's oldest sister, Hope, for example. She's a seasoned professional at having her picture taken. As well she should be, especially considering the insane amount of self-portraits she takes every other day in search of the perfect Facebook photo. One shot and we were done!

Jack's other sister, Ashley, LOVES having her picture taken!

She gets extra cute and playful in front of the camera, giving Jack's mommy lots of great shots from which to choose.

Jack's big brother Nick is just as photogenic as his sisters. But he's currently suffering from a strange case of teenage separation anxiety, and can't bare to part with his iPod. So wherever Nick goes, the iPod is sure to be there. Even in our Christmas photos. (Jack's mommy is choosing to ignore the "hint" of teenage attitude displayed in the above photo.)

But with Jack, it's a whole other story!

Jack's mommy has to take at least a hundred photographs to get one "normal" shot.

And even then, she doesn't always get what she's hoping for.

But Jack's mommy is an incredibly smart (and beautiful) woman who knows that it's much better to be "unique" than just plain ol' dull and boring "normal".

Jack's mommy thinks these photos capture Jack's personality perfectly!

What do you think?

What I Want on my Altar de Muertos

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Sat, 03 Nov 2012 03:00:00 +0000

El Día de Muertos is a beautiful Mexican holiday celebration that teaches us to embrace death while honoring the memory of our deceased loved ones.

Dia de Muertos isn't a holiday I grew up celebrating, even though I was raised by my Mexican grandparents. But, having lived in Mexico for so many years, it's a holiday that I've come to embrace and love.
One of my favorite things to do for Día de Muertos is to visit el panteon (cemetery) and walk around admiring all of the beautifully decorated altars. Every altar de muertos must include a few key elements such as flores de cempasúchil (Mexican marigolds), candles, glasses of water, photos of the deceased, vibrant banners of papel picado, various food ofrendas (offerings), and personal mementos.

It's the personal mementos and food ofrendas that really help you get a feel for each person's personality. That's why one of my favorite things to do while visiting el panteon for Día de Muertos is talking with my kids about what kinds of things I think they should include on my altar de muertos in some 50+ years from now. We've compiled a list...

What I want on my Altar de Muertos:
(In no particular order)

A smartphone: I am never without my cell phone. I use it for keeping up with family & friends via texting or social media, I use it for work, I use it to take notes, scheduling and keeping track of important dates and appointments, to listen to music, and I use it for taking pics of the life around me.
An American flag: Because you can take the girl out of the USA, but she will always bleed red, white, and blue.
Platos y ollas de barro: To represent my love of cooking and Mexican cuisine.
Assorted chile peppers: Because this girl likes a little heat with her meals.
A rolling pin: As a symbol for my love of making freshly baked bread.
A big-ass cup of coffee: Because a life without coffee is no life at all. That goes for the after-life as well.
A bottle of Jack Daniels: If I'm not drinking coffee, I'm probably drinking whiskey.
Make-up: I'm incredibly girly. I've always loved to play with makeup and probably always will. So be sure to leave out a couple of shades of lipstick (in nude, purple, and red), an eyebrow pencil, mascara, and a little blush because I'm sure I'll be looking deathly pale.
My cookbook: As a reminder that dreams do come true.
Sunflowers: One of my favorite flowers. Please also include bright, colorful gerbera daisies, yellow roses, and assorted tulips.
Something leopard print: Nothing would make my inner Peggy Bundy happier than a leopard print scarf, a purse, or some really sexy heels.
Candles: Buy (and light) all the candles!
Food offerings: I'll be happy with pretty much anything, just don't forget to include peanut m&m's (my weakness), chocolate chip cookies, Tacos de Barbacoa, pepperoni pizza with jalapeños, French fries (hold the ketchup), pickles, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and a banana cream pie.
Cigarettes: Menthols, please! I'm not a smoker, and I'm not proud to admit this, but occasionally--like when life gets super stressful and overwhelming--I will light up a cigarette as a way to relieve stress. (I know... It's a horrible habit. So please, no lectures.) Also, don't try to be cute and "accidentally" forget to leave a lighter.
Personal items/mementos: A few pics of my kids (so people know whose mom I was), a unicorn or pegasus (which reminds me of my mom), a miniature billiards game, a deck of cards (Do you get the sense that I grew up in honky-tonk bars?), music (country, 80's hair metal, some George Michael, José Alfredo Jimenez, and jazz), costume jewelry, perfume, my tambourine (the only toy I have from my childhood), a copy of my favorite book (Como Agua Para Chocolate by Laura Esquivel), and a notebook and pen (because I'm always taking notes or writing).

Now it's your turn... What are some must haves for your altar de muertos?

How to register your US-born child as a Mexican citizen (in Mexico)

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Mon, 03 Sep 2012 11:00:00 +0000

Did you know that the Mexican constitution states that any child born abroad to Mexican-born parents has the right to Mexican citizenship? It's not mandatory, nor is it necessary to live in Mexico, but it does make enrolling your child in school (in Mexico) much easier.

Required Documents for Obtaining Dual Citizenship in Mexico

It's really quite a simple process, you just need the right paperwork.

What you will need:

Certified copy of the child's US birth certificate
Apostille
Notarized translation of the birth certificate and Apostille
Mexican-born parent's birth certificate OR copy of Credencial de Elector (voter card)

Important things to know:

To obtain an Apostille, you MUST have a certified copy of the US birth certificate!
If the birth certificate you have is NOT certified, the Apostille request will be sent back to you.

In some states, like California, obtaining a certified birth certificate requires the parents or grandparents of the child to pick up the birth certificate. No one else! Unless it's the spouse or a sibling over the age of 18. No friends, cousins, aunts, uncles, or even great-uncles. If the parents are unable to request a certified copy in person, perhaps due to the fact that they've lived in Mexico for the last 12 years, they can request one by mail, but the application form must be notarized. If you are outside the US, you can get the application form notarized at the nearest US Consulate.

With international express mail, the process can be done quickly, but at a cost. It cost me $20.00 (US Dollars) to have a single piece of paper delivered to Mexico by international express mail and it took a week to get here. Without express mail, it probably would've taken a few weeks shy of forever!

If after all that, you still haven't obtained a certified birth certificate to request the Apostille that will allow your child to attend high school, freaketh not. There is still hope.

If the only birth certificate you have is the copy you were given after your child was born, please know that it is not certified. But like I said, that's not a problem. You can send that birth certificate to your local registrar's office (in the US) to have it certified. Again, you can use either international express or snail mail. Or better yet, you can hire a lawyer, whose mother will be traveling to the US and will send all of the necessary requests by mail in the US. US snail mail is still cheaper and faster than some international express mail services. Once your lawyer's mother has all of the necessary paperwork, she will send it all down with a friend of the family, who is travelling to your small town to visit.

Your lawyer will make sure everything is in order, then type up the translation, add a couple of signatures and seals, and you are good to go.

Bright and early the next morning, about 9am, take all of the necessary paperwork to the local Registro Civil office. It shouldn't be too hard to find. It's somewhere inside the Presidencia Municipal (City Hall). The attending clerks will look over your paperwork to make sure everything is in order, then ask you to return tomorrow to pick up your child's new Mexican birth certificate and CURP (Mexican equivalent of Social Security card/number).

Just make sure they understand that your child's name must appear as it does on their US birth certificate. There is to be no tacking on whatsoever of an extra last name!

Fast forward 24 hours and voila! Just like that your child is now a Mexican citizen, with just one last name. And not a moment too soon. You still have 24 hours left until the deadline the school gave you to turn it all in. Phew!

Registro Civil charges a little less than 100 pesos, per child. But knowing that your child will be allowed to attend high school for the next 3 years and that your other two US-born kiddies won't have this same problem in the future, is absolutely priceless.

Any questions?

The Half-Naked Housewife

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 05:00:00 +0000

My grandmother warned me that this day would come. Back then, I was a know-it-all teenager who couldn't imagine ever doing something so potentially embarrassing, even if it was in the privacy of my own home.

This week, I've come to realize two things:

Gramm was right about everything!
There's a reason why people say, "Never say never."

I grew up in sunny southern California, where during the summertime the temperatures would rise to over 100F. It was so hot, my mom would attempt to fry an egg on our sidewalk every summer just to prove that living in SoCal in the summer was like living on the surface of the sun. I wasn't phased by the heat at all. I wore tank tops and short-shorts and drank tall glasses of iced tea and frosty cans of Pepsi all day to stay cool. Gramm on the other hand, hated the heat. She started to sweat from the moment she got up at 6am and kept sweating until she fell asleep watching the nightly news at 10.

Because we had air conditioning and a fan in our little trailer, and because I rarely ever broke into a sweat, I didn't understand why Gramm was always sweating and thought it kind of gross. All morning long, Gramm would splash her face with cold water and wrap a cold dish rag around her neck to try to cool down. But by noon, she just couldn't take it anymore. So...she'd rip off her blouse and continue to finish her housework in nothing but her bra and dress slacks.

I was absolutely mortified! "Gramm, please put your shirt back on! What if one of our neighbors sees you? Or worse yet, what if one of my friends stop by for a visit?" I was sure I would die of sheer embarrassment.

"Ay, m'ija! This is my house. I can walk around in my bra if I want to. You're still young and don't understand these things. But just wait until your a little older. One day you'll be so hot that you won't even be able to wear clothes and will decide that cleaning house in your bra is the only way to stay cool."

Yeah, whatever! I knew Gramm had no idea what she was talking about and I swore I'd NEVER do something that was sure to embarrass my kids, like clean the house in my bra.

Fast forward to some twenty years later...

May is the hottest month of the year here in Mexico. I haven't stopped sweating since Mother's Day. No amount of ice water is ever enough to quench my thirst or help me cool down. And clothes just make it worse. They're clingy and make me feel even more miserable. Especially pants. The only clothes I can tolerate are summer dresses.

This last week really has been one of the hottest. EVER! It's too hot to sleep. Too hot to cook. And too hot to clean. But...someone has to do it. (That someone being me.) When it came time to mop the house, I couldn't take it anymore. It was too hot. I was drenched in sweat from head to toe and my dress was clinging to all the wrong places, making it extremely difficult to move around. It was at that very moment that I knew there was only one way I was going to be able to get the job done. I set aside my mop for just a second, and ripped my dress right off and then continued to mop my entire house in just my black lace bra and matching half slip. And I didn't care if anyone saw me.

I felt glorious and free and kind of sexy all at the same time. I was so happy to finally have found some kind of relief from the intense heat that I refused to put my dress back on until I finished cleaning up after lunch.

And I liked it so much that I'm already planning on doing the same thing tomorrow. (If the heat continues.)

If Gramm could see me now, I'm sure she'd be laughing out loud saying, "I told you so, m'ija!"

The little boy who never wanted to go to school...

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 13:30:00 +0000

Once upon a time, in a tiny Mexican village, lived a little boy named Jack. Jack was a typical 7 year old little boy who loved to play soccer, ride his bike, and jump rope. But there was one thing that Jack didn't like to do and that was go to school.

It started back when he was 5 years old and had just started kindergarten. Every morning, when his mommy would wake him up, he'd bury his head under his pillow and complain, "Mommy, I don't want to go to school today!"

It's not that he didn't like his teacher or his classmates. He loved them. And once he was at school, he actually liked being there. On the way home from school, all he talked about was how much fun he'd had and all the cool things he had learned that day.

But the very next day, it started all over again.

"Mommy! I don't want to go to school today."
"Why m'ijo?"
"Because I love you. And when I'm at school, I miss you too much."

His arguments were always so very cute and sweet. But Jack's mommy was strong and smart (and not to mention incredibly beautiful and talented) and always sent him to school anyway. So sometimes Jack would try to see if he could convince his daddy.

"Daddy, I don't want to go to school today."
"Why m'ijo?"
"Because you're like the coolest dad in the world with the best job ever and I want to be just like you when I grow up."

As you can see, Jack has always been a very smart little boy.

Jack's Mommy and Daddy knew that this not wanting to go to school thing was just a phase and that all they had to do was wait patiently for Jack to grow out of it.

Jack is now 7 years old and in the first grade. He's older and wiser. And he's finally starting to realize that he's never going to convince his mommy and daddy to let him stay home from school. But still he has his moments. Just last week, he tried to bribe his mommy with the money he got from the Tooth Mouse.

He tried to bribe his mommy with 20 pesos!!!

What 7 year old little boy does that?

Jack's mommy and daddy really hope that when he gets older, Jack will use his genius powers for good and not evil.

To be continued....

What's the most creative excuse you've heard (or used) to try to get out of going to school (or work)? Did it work?

Never have I ever...

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 05:00:00 +0000

I've been 37 years old for almost a whole month. You'd think by now I'd have my life together and already started crossing things off my bucket list (which I really need to share with you one day), but it occured to me that there is still so much I haven't done. Some are trivial little things that I've never had the chance to do or experience, and others are great big things I've always dreamed of doing. And then there are a couple of things I've never done, and never plan on doing.

In honor of my 37th birthday, here are 37 Things I've Never Done.

37 Things I've Never Done
(In no particular order...)

1. Traveled any where outside the U.S. or Mexico.

2. Ventured out on my own or travel on my own.

3. Driven a stick shift. (Technically, my dad taught me when I was 7 or 8 years old, but I never drove another stick shift after that, so I forgot how.)

4. Jumped out of an airplane. (Add this to that very short list of things I'll never do.)

5. Had a pedicure. (Probably never will. I'm not comfortable with strangers touching my feet.)

6. Gotten a tattoo. (I want a pegasus, in honor of my mom.)

7. Made love in an elevator. (You can blame Aerosmith and Grey's Anatomy on this one.)

8. Owned a new car. (Or my own car, for that matter.)

9. Gone skinny dipping. (At least not as an adult.)

10. Worn an evening gown. (I've always dreamed of getting dressed up in a fancy gown.)

11. Met my first childhood crush: Donny Osmond! (♥)

12. Met my teenage crush: Tommy Lee (♥♥♥)

13. Done Yoga or Pilates.

14. Been to Miami! (My childhood best friend moved to Miami when we were kids. I've always wanted to go visit him.)

15. Stepped foot inside a Starbuck's. (Remeber, I've lived in Small Town, Mexico for the past 11 years.)

16. Had a Quinceañera or Sweet Sixteen party.

17. ~~Gotten drunk.~~ (Unless you count that one New Year's Eve where I drank too much sparkling apple cider, but it shouldn't count because it was sparkling apple cider.)

18. Been on a cruise.

19. Lived on my own.

20. Won anything. (Prize, Raffle, Car, Lottery, Grammy, Oscar, Nobel Peace Prize....)

21. ~~Cared much for exercise~~. (Things change! I won't say that I LOVE to work-out, but I do enjoy it. A lot!)

22. Been to a bar or club as an adult who can drink.

23. Bought a house.

24. Had a limpia (Mexican spiritual cleansing). (Not that I really want or need one, but I think I might know someone who can hook me up.)

Ashley giving my suegro (father-in-law) a limpia.

25. ~~Written a book.~~

26. Done drugs. (Don't plan on doing them ever.)

27. Thrown a big party while my mom/grandparents were out of town.

28. ~~Fired a gun.~~ (A BB gun at summer camp doesn't count.)

29. Been to a blogger conference.

30. Gone to Vegas as an adult, so I could do something that should stay in Vegas.

31. Had someone throw me a surprise party.

32. Kicked anyone out of bed for eating crackers. (Oh, wait! Do the kiddies count? LOL)

33. Seen any of The Godfather movies.

34. Been a bridesmaid.

35. Fainted.

36. Been to New York City.

37. Joined the Mile-High Club. (Wink, wink!)

Okay, I showed you mine, now it's time for you to show me yours! What are some things you've always wanted to do, but never have.

Linking up with Mama Kat for her Pretty Much World-Famous Writer's Workshop.

If you give a kid a camera...

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Thu, 19 May 2011 03:00:00 +0000

What happens when you let your kiddies use your camera?

I'm not really sure. But it did involve them dressing up their little brother in various costumes and capturing it all on film!

No big brothers were harmed in the taking of these pictures.

Good Girls Don't Play Pool

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 23:22:00 +0000

In Country Girl at Heart, I mentioned that as a kid, I often went to work with my mom, who was a bartender. In every bar that my mom worked, there were two constants: a jukebox and pool table. I was fascinated by both.

I started playing pool at a very young age. I could barely see over the top of the pool table, but that didn't stop me from playing. From my earliest memories of playing pool at the age of four up until I was ten years old, there wasn't a day that I didn't play pool.

Just before my eleventh birthday, I went to live with my grandparents. But my pool playing days didn't end there. My grandparents had a membership to a campground in the mountains, where we spent every weekend camping. The campgrounds had swimming pools, a play ground, miniature golf and a clubhouse/lodge. My favorite of all was the clubhouse because there were two pool tables; one for the kiddies and another for the grown-ups. I got to play on both.

When it came to playing pool, I was pretty good. False modesty aside, I was really good. I played both eight-ball and nine-ball. I could call my shots, if that's what my opponent wanted. I could shoot right-handed, left-handed and even behind my back.

In High School, my best guy friend and I would go shoot a couple of games of pool after school at the nearby bowling alley. And my BFF (best friend forever) and I would play when I visited her at the community center where she worked.

There wasn't anything I loved as much as playing pool.

And then I grew up and got married. The only time I got to play pool was when Hubby and I would visit my grandparents in the mountains.

One of my most memorable visits to the mountains was during my suegra's first trip to the U.S. My grandparents really wanted my suegra to see their mountain getaway and since Hubby was stuck working that day, my suegra and I went with my brother-in-law, who was living with us at the time. The five of us were chatting about how nice the weather was in the mile-high mountains, when my brother-in-law spotted the pool table. Immediately he asked if I wanted to play and I happily accepted.

I've never been one to pretend I didn't know how to play, unless I was hustling someone, so I played to the best of my abilities for all four games. All the while, my grandfather was making the weirdest of faces. He looked like he was either going to sneeze or have a stroke. When I asked him about it, he just mumbled and said that he was fine. It wasn't until we were alone, sans mother-in-law and cuñado, that he told me I shouldn't have played so well. Then, just as we were about to leave, Pappy hit me with a tidbit of information that left me anonadada (shocked, stunned and speechless).

"Mija, a los mexicanos no les gusta que las mujeres juegen billar. No es un juego para mujeres decentes como tu." (Translation: Mija, Mexicans don't think women should play pool. It's not a game for decent women like you.)

WHAT?! Are you kidding me? It was 1995, hadn't they heard of the sexual revolution and equality of the sexes? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My grandparents had raised me with their old-fashioned Mexican values, but not once did they ever say anything about playing pool. They enjoyed playing almost as much as I did.

On the way home, I sat in the back of my brother-in-law's car wondering if my suegra thought less of me as a person because I could play pool. And I worried about what she would think if she learned I was also a pro at card games. (My mom worked as a card dealer at Circus Circus when I was 5.)

My suegra has never, to this day, said anything about that fateful day. And I've never asked her about it. But I have brought this subject up with Hubby on more than one occasion, especially since moving to Mexico. (Note: Hubby doesn't have a problem with women playing pool.)

Now, if you're wondering if after 15 years, people still think this way, the answer is YES! Atleast in my pueblito.

All over my small town, you can find little hole-in-the-wall pool halls. Every time I walk by a billar, I wish I could shoot a game of pool. But sadly, I can't. These establishments are where "unsavory" characters hang out to drink, smoke and play pool. No girls allowed. Especially "decent" women such as myself. Just to give you an idea of how bad of a reputation billares have, none of the men I know would be caught dead in one. Billares are nothing like the honky-tonk bars I grew up in, nor are they anything like the trendy nightclubs in town, which cater to a younger and hipper crowd and don't have pool tables.

Sometimes I just can't believe that there isn't a place where I, a married mom of four, can go to shoot a game of pool here in town. And that people think of pool as something so taboo.

What do you think?

My Lil' Wiseman

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 16:00:00 +0000

"I'm not really a Rey Mago (Wiseman/Magi), but I played one in the school play last month."

*Tomorrow is Dia de Los Santos Reyes (Three Kings Day). To learn more about this special holiday and how our family celebrates it, read Three Kings and a Full House.

Happy Revolution Day!

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 19:10:00 +0000

Handkerchief: 8 pesos

Horse: 25 pesos

Shirt: 49 pesos

Jeans: 98 pesos

Boots: 159 pesos

Carrilleras (Bandoliers): 30 pesos

Seeing Jack dressed up as a Revolucionario for the Revolution Day parade: Priceless!

Viva la Revolucion Mexicana!

(A big thank you to my friend Nancy for providing me with the English word for Carrilleras.)

The Mexican Hillbillies...

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Sat, 20 Mar 2010 06:00:00 +0000

One of my best friends from High School jokes that my life in Mexico is a cross between Little House on the Prairie and I Love Lucy.

But after she sees this picture, she's going to start comparing me to another famous TV family...The Clampetts!

Apparently, mice and rats aren't the only critters wandering around in the large empty lot behind my house. This little fella was found in my next door neighbors house.

And he just had to share the news with my boys.

Nick walked into my house with that thing and said, "Look Ma, dinner!"

No, gracias!

10 year old boys...you gotta love 'em!

Y'all come back now, y'hear?

How I Learned to Speak Spanish

noreply@blogger.com (Leslie Harris) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 14:00:00 +0000

*I originally posted this story on my recipe blog, but I am posting it here for those of you who are curious as to how I learned to speak Spanish.

*My Aunt Lidia and me on the ranch in San Luis, Sonora circa 1979

I am 1/4 Mexican, but I didn't learn to speak Spanish until the summer before my 5th birthday. My grandmother had just married a man that spoke no English. And I didn't speak a word of Spanish. Seeing that Pappy and I were having trouble communicating, she took me to San Luis, Sonora, Mexico. (My grandmother was raised in San Luis.) She left me there with one of my aunt's and her family for three months so I could learn Spanish. Talk about an immersion course!

One of Gramm's brothers, my Tio Ruben, was the only relative that spoke English. He would stop by daily to see how I was doing and would give me a few pesos to buy dulces (candy). I would voice all of my complaints and he would translate it to my Tia Lidia.

But Tio Ruben couldn't stay all day.

The way I communicated with my relatives was through pointing. I'd point to something, then my aunt or cousins would say the word for the object in Spanish. If I pointed to the milk carton, my Aunt would say "Leche".

Whenever I wanted a glass of milk, I would say leche. But my aunt would then say, "Quiero leche." At the time, I didn't know what that meant, but whenever I said it, I got a glass of milk.

Being the genius kid that I was, I learned more and more Spanish everyday.

One morning, my Tia Lidia had prepared the best tasting breakfast I had ever tasted. Remember I was only 4 years old! I asked, "Que es?" My aunt answered, "Chorizo con huevo." I immediately asked for mas (more). And spent the rest of the day singing "Chorizo con huevo" all day long. I requested Chorizo con Huevo for breakfast every morning!

I couldn't wait to share my latest discovery with my Tio Ruben, but he had left San Luis for a couple of weeks. With no one around to speak English with, my Spanish improved by leaps and bounds.

Two weeks passed and my Tio Ruben had returned from wherever he had been. Before he could ask how I was doing, I said, "Tio Ruben, me das veinte pesos para comprar huevos y chorizo?" (Uncle Ruben, can I have twenty pesos to buy eggs and chorizo?)

Tio Ruben laughed and was very happy that the little gringa was finally speaking Spanish. I didn't speak a word of English for the rest of my stay.

And that ladies and gentlemen is how I learned to speak Spanish!

With Love,