Cabeza de Coco: Observations on Life

It's a Proud Day

2012-02-29T17:09:00.000-08:00

When it rains, it pours.

Today happens to be one of those day's where the weather was not an indicator of the good news that sprinkled-in throughout the day.

The first wave of good news was an early morning text from a fellow #llblog sister that confirmed the placement of our first #lallblog print ad in the East LA College Newspaper!

Take a peek of what it looks like in print here.

The second came in form of a non-descript email that simply stated "Congratulations You've been Nominated."

Sure.

Before I deleted what I thought to be the usual "request for partnership" or "urgent business relationship" email, I dared to open - and read it:

Hola Revolucionario,

You have been nominated for The Revolucionario Awards! The awards are taking place as part of The Social Revolución - An interactive movement of Latinos using social media as their platform to create and inspire change.

As a nominee, you have the opportunity to win the Revolucionario Award in one of three categories: The New American, The Mobilizer or The Innovator. Awards will be announced soon and will be presented at The Social Revolución Latino Lounge at SXSWi on March 12, 2012.

Check out your nomination, Los Comandantes (the official judges), and the other Revolucionarios creating and inspiring change. Congratulations once more and don't forget to share the news.

¡Que Viva La Revolución!

Yes my friends, the Latina Lifestyle Blogger Collective is nominated for a Revolucionario Award!

I'm proud.

Very proud.

My Heart is in Pain

2012-02-28T17:06:00.000-08:00

There is nothing that makes me hurt inside more than hearing about a child going to bed hungry because their parents simply can't afford to buy food.

It's especially heart-breaking when you personally know how hard the parents work to provide to their young daughter.

In the Chipin Page, the Latina Lifestyle Blogger Collective has shared the following:

Dear friends:

We have an urgent request. One of our #LLBLOG (Latina Lifestyle Blogger Collective) members is going through a very hard time financially.

This situation has extended it's ugly head, and is now affecting her ability to provide food and other necessities for her young daughter, her husband and self.

We believe that no human being should be without food. It's especially heart breaking to learn that one of our own is struggling to simply provide a meal to her child.

If this story in any way touches your soul, please join me in helping this young mother by contributing to our #LLBLOG member drive.

Your financial contribution will assist her and her husband in providing the basic necessities, especially food, for their young daughter.

No amount is too small.

Everything is appreciated and is going towards a very worthy cause.

In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, “You cannot do a kindness too soon because you never know how soon it will be too late.”

Now is the your time to share this message with others.

Please contribute and support our #LLBlog sister and her family today by donating here.

May the universe provide you more than what you give.

In appreciation,

The Latina Lifestyle Bloggers Collective

In my words:

Please help.

Give-away: Meet your New Best Friend

2012-02-23T01:29:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, my entire review of my #llblog sister and friend Sujeiry's new book Love Trips: A Collection of Relationship Stumbles has disapeared from the blog!

The upside is, you can hear more directly from Sujeiry to viewing her book announcement below:

Run, don't walk to get your very own copy of one of the best books I have about relationships and personal growth here.

Or, you can also enter my give-away to win your very own copy.

Happy reading,

A Time of Reflection

2012-02-22T08:21:00.000-08:00

Today Catholics begin Lenten season.

Simply stated, Lent is 40 days and 40 nights of reflection with the goal of becoming a better person.

Culminating with an Easter feast, the Lenten period is, by contrast filled with quiet times and limitations. Mostly noted by a lack of meat on our menu, even the most agnostic of corporations accept, and embrace, their increased sale of vegetarian or seafood-based menu items.

Our changed menu and other rituals honored during this period help us take a step back and get us ready to appreciate our lives and live with a bigger, and better purpose.

Because as hard as life is, all of us have something to be thankful for.

I see this period as a very personal time to go within ourselves and meditate (pray or reflect) about us, those that surround us and the world we live in.

As a Catholic practicing Christian, I see no need to share how we practice, what we give up, or whether we are closer to the man (or woman) upstairs because of our assumed faith and, at many times, once-yearly rituals.

As human as others are, so am I. I have learned that I say a silent prayer to myself when I notice that my parish is overflowing with yearly visitors that are all but absent the rest of the year.

Even making that observation and trying to make-up for that lapse in judgement is a huge opportunity for self growth; and is a part of myself that I will reflect on during this season.

As my very Catholic, yet open-minded family has told me:

"No one is less human or better as a human because of the faith he choses to, or not, to practice."

Christians, Muslims, Jews, Sekhs and Atheists are all human and live in this world together.

Why don't we reflect on that?

Let's make our *home* a place that is welcoming to all: whether they believe or practice any type of religion.

With good wishes for a wonderful season,

Can't get it Right

2012-02-21T19:48:00.001-08:00

Ten days after being pumped up with 2 bags of IV liquids,
and the day prior to my surgery; trying to smile with "Jot Dog"

It's taken nineteen days to feel somewhat normal after my surgery. Probably the most "normal" I have felt in months.

Don't assume that my bloating is any less obvious than a pregnant woman. In her eighth month. With twins.

The roundness of my belly only competes with the fullness of my cheeks. But wait - it's less obvious than before my surgery. No joke.

I've tried to camouflage my temporary body by wearing yoga pants, long shirts and necklaces that have seemingly shrunk three inches in length. Overnight.

Fruit smoothes and spinach salads aside, nothing I do, or eat, has helped reduce my bloat to fit into my pre-only-God-knew-what-was-wrong-with-me clothes.

Besides the fact that my doctor has limited my activities to walking, the bloating has -literally- weighed me down to the point of not wanting to do anything other than, well, walk.

So much for the exercise bug that I whole-heartedly embraced for the last two years. (insert confused look).

I'm certainly not perfect. Definitely a mere mortal.

Ten days after my surgery - the bloating is starting to "go down"

Through it all, including challenges, curve balls, health scares, and plenty of amazing moments "thrown in" to make it all worth it, I still can't get it right.

Here's to a brighter day and my continued attempts to get it right. My health, that is!

Who Inspires Me?

2012-02-15T15:44:00.000-08:00

Happy People that Believe that Everything is Possible.

The Four Stages of Valentines Day

2012-02-10T09:36:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder what kind of woman you will be on Valentines Day?

The "Been-Dating-So-Long-They-Might-As-Well-Be-Married" Woman

This is the time when long-awaiting doe-eyed women secretly plot their way to convince their otherwise happily single beau to get on bended knee. Those that try that route, as usual, will fail and call their friends to complain, yet again, why their boyfriend of ten-years "uses and abuses them." (Don't fall for that trap - listen and nod, they are not leaving him)

The "Happy-to-be-Single" Woman

The single ladies - sans a man in their life - who will refute any and all Valentines Day celebrations. They will roll their eyes when the flowers start arriving at their coworkers desk and dish-out the proverbial "I-don't-need-a-man-to-be-happy" snark.

They might make plans with their other single friends to, ahem, celebrate themselves. But if things are still the same as before I met my now hubby, those evenings turn out to be a headache when scheduled in public. Why? Well, eventually one, or two, in the group will decide that "they need to find a man," that night! So much for girls night out.

The Dating and Soon-to-Engaged Woman

There are women that find out, that an otherwise simple dinner out, or being involved in a round-about evening, will receive a proposal that will make them cry tears of joy.

These women will be happy, giddy actually, and will not be able to wait and Instagram a photo of their ring, call their parents, and of course, call their best friend - before they change their Facebook status.

The Newlywed Woman - Disclaimer: That was me last year

If you thought expectations were high when dating, you have no idea what it's like to anticipate the first year of this God-forsaken-Hallmark-created-Holiday. Mostly because, well, everyone - and I mean everyone - will remind you how your first Valentines will set the mood for the rest of your Valentines Day's of your entire wedded life together. (Don't fret if you are a movie start or some sort of pseudo celeb - you only have one of these Holidays to remember, if that!).

But nothing is perfect - especially not the first year of marriage (in my case, I had only been married four months!)

My now hubby and me on our second date - at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, November 2007

This is my story:

Being that my hubby works some nights (Thank you Hollywood Studios), it was of course, our luck that he had to work an 11 a.m. to midnight shift on the actual date. So of course, I pouted and whined starting on the day after my birthday (February 3rd), until he caved in and planned an entire day (yes sir-e, I didn't just want dinner!) the weekend before the 14th.

Surprisingly, it wasn't a romantic drive-up-the-coast-and-sip-wine-and-feed-each-other-grapes-kinda-holiday, it was simple - at least for us.

But I had bigger plans (insert me making a whimsical "aha" face) and planned to make lobster ravioli -from scratch! As in rolling out the dough, cutting the squares, making the filling, cooking the ravioli and making the sauce - of course.

It was my way of showing my hubby how much I loved him: by cooking his Italian grandmothers family recipe.

To say it was a chore is to underplay the strenuous and messy chore it is to make ravioli dough from scratch - not to mention the various steps that would end up creating heart-shaped lobster-filled ravioli (I am ambitious!).

Finishing the ravioli with only minutes before my hubby drived up our home, I had just enough time to straighten my heat-induced hair kinks and remove my apron. The kitchen, unfortunately, looked like a scene out of Hell's Kitchen.

When my hubby walked in the door I wanted to recreate one of those romantic scenes straight out of a Lifetime Movie. What happened, instead, was Chatito barking in a pleading to take him outside, while my once clean outfit, had flour on my backside (sorry, but I don't have a mirror on my butt!). My hubby, of course, noticed it, as I ran behind Chatito to settle him a bit.

My hubby, turns out, had a later dinner at work and couldn't eat more than a couple of ravioli hearts while standing in the kitchen with me.

No wine. No romantic candle lit diner spread. We fell asleep on the couch, while still dressed.

This wasn't the Valentines celebration I had planned.

The next day we reheated left-over ravioli, changed the sauce and ate it - on our couch. Sitting next to Chatito, In our PJ's.

But then again, isn't life exactly like this: a series of unpredictable events that intertwined and make up this thing we call life?

Here's to your unpredictable and happy Valentines Day - because remember, it's not about the person sitting next to us, it's about the love that surrounds us.

Love and continued happiness -

Not all Latinos are the Same

2012-02-05T16:44:00.000-08:00

At the age of eight, my parents uprooted the entire family and moved out of the country promising new friends, a new home, and a wonderful new life.

Although I don't remember much about the weeks leading up to the move, I recall the excitement I felt every time my mother and father shared their memories about a country, until then, a plane ride away.

Unlike most children in my situation, I was excited to move...until I walked on my new campus.

Instead of a sprawling schoolyard and student-painted murals, the school was a large four-story fortress with minimal light looking into our classrooms. Each classroom had a make-shift stage with a nun, instead of a teacher, sitting behind a desk.

We would speak when spoken to, stand when asked to, we were raised perfect in every way. Our shoes were one of four choices, our socks the most expensive cotton available, and our three uniforms tailor-made. We had eight classes - daily - ranging from culture, to art history, to world history and "manualidades" (arts and crafts). We were promised an education that could easily gaurantee a ticket to one of the top universities in the world.

All my classmates were petite, mostly fair or blond, and related to a mayor, celebrity or well-known business family in the city. I later came to find out that my family was not different from those families.

When my uncle came to visit, we would also be asked to wear our "gala uniforms." He was, I later found out, the head of the school-board of one of the largest cities in that country. I had to stand in line to greet him while nervously looking at his shoes, instead of running to his arms as I did with most family members.

The nuns called my mother "Doña," when she walked the hallways of that school. She was recognized and respected. My siblings and I were held to a much higher standard because of who my family was.

In the vastness of my former country, I was one of many and one of only four Latino kids in our elementary school. I didn't know "I" was different, and my parents didn't tell me otherwise. I never felt the disparity of being different, as some Latinos share. I was, we were, the same as my classmates, our neighbors, and my family.

On the other hand, our new life was confusing to me.

My mother and father, you see, never told me who my family was. My new home, my new life, was holding me, us, to a different standard.

We had to be perfect in every way.

With perfection, came the ugly repercutions of those that didn't understand, or those that sneered when the nuns would remind us -constantly and publicly- that "no eramos del montón." (we were not average)

My classmates vacationed in Europe or flew to Boston for clam chowder - over long weekends. They shopped in Houston or Dallas, and twisted their nose when I told them that I grew up in the San Fernando Valley.

I learned, within the first year of being in my new home, that my life, albeit privileged, had many ugly people in it. As my mother and father told me, "I would come across people that would envy my life." So always act with "cordura;" (level headed) and to never forget "de donde vienes" (where we came from).

In order to survive and come out ahead, I had to adapt and stay two steps ahead of everyone. I also had to accept and embrace that my family was different - in a good way.

"I couldn't, I shouldn't, be ashamed that my family worked hard to attain a level of professional and financial security that many envy." - I told myself.

In those five years living abroad, I traveled to places most people only dream about. Embraced new foods, literature and interacting with people from all over the world.

But when we came back home, it was back to being one of many. I had to lessen the importance of my family, their hard work and accomplishments - to fit in.

Arriving in the middle of a immigration amnesty, many Latinos that were living in hiding began to celebrate their culture. A culture that was much, much different than a culture they claimed existed in Mexico.

As anywhere else, I am sure that many Latinos suffered a lack of financial stability, limited education and a life befitting of a drama...but as much as I empathised with my school mates and work colleagues, I couldn't relate to the news stories blasted all over TV.

How did I respond to the change? By speaking less and less about my family, avoiding any and all conversations about Mexico or the Latino culture I was part of - anything that would bring attention that my life, and my family, was different. Or, ahem, different than what everyone - Latino and otherwise - was potraying/i> as such.

But it's tiring - very much so - to pretend to agree to the never ending jabs of what a Latino, rather, a Mexican American reality is like. I can no longer be ashamed that yes, my parents and family, worked very hard for themselves and were able to give me the life that I had.

I can longer pretend that all Latinos are the same, or that anything remotely stereotypical, is relatable. I can no longer accept to be less of a Latina because I didn't have the hard life other Latinos experienced.

Yes, it's taken time. But I hope more of us join in my new found freedom of saying:
Not all Latinos are the same...!

40 Years and 10 Reasons

2012-02-01T23:30:00.000-08:00

Sometime tomorrow I will wake-up from the effects of anesthesia and realize that I just celebrated my birthday on an operating table.

Although it's doubtful that I will be coherent, I know that deep (deep!) inside I will be happy to be alive.

These are ten reasons why I am blessed beyond words to have graced this earth for 40 full years:
(in no particular order)

I made it out of surgery alive, minus one organ. (Oh well. I will live!)
I'm walking and moving even though I was told I wouldn't be able to. (I have nine lives baby!)
I married a man that loves me as much as a "pimple on their side" (on a bad day) or tells me that he "loves being married to me." (On a good day).
I married a man that makes me laugh (Read above), cry, laugh, think, dream, hope, and trust in me. (And he's absolutely handsome in so many ways!)
I have the cutest pug child in the whole-wide-world. (No disagreements allowed)
I have the best parents and had the best childhood anyone could wish for. (RIP Dad, I miss you)
My mom has officially celebrated her fifth year of cancer remission! (Can I get a woot-woot?!)
I have a career, not a job, and just celebrated my fifth year being an entrepreneur.
I've had the opportunity to meet some pretty some amazing individuals throughout my life.

And the most important reason I will celebrate my birthday (once I am able to toast with an adult beverage):

10. I am living my life exactly the way "I" want to live it.

Thank you for being a part of it,

Pain Ridden, Fat and Scared

2012-01-30T22:36:00.000-08:00

In the middle of the summer, as I have typically done for the last five years, I was too busy to eat anything other than my morning coffee and bagel.

So, when it was time to eat dinner, my hubby and I decided to eat out at one of our favorite spots.

As usual, my eyes are bigger than my stomach, and after a few bites of our delicious calamari, I simply ordered a cup of clam chowder.

That was the biggest meal I had on that particular summer day.

My short drive home replaced my earlier headache with a mixture of nausea and a sudden feeling of clamminess. I felt feverish and doubled over in pain for most of the ten-minute drive home.

My husband attributed my ailments to food poisoning - but it didn't make sense. We both ate the same dinner, and I much less than him. And fortunately, my husband felt fine.

I immediately swelled and my stomach bloated before we got home. To say I was uncomfortable is an understatement.

As soon as I got home, my stomach started convulsing, my body felt tender and hot to the touch, and I started shaking uncontrollably. Coupled with a horrid pain in the middle of my ribcage, I ran to the bathroom to throw up my only meal of that day.

That wasn't the only time I threw up that evening.

Not only did I use a hot water bag to try and subside my pain, I also took a healthy dosage of your typical (stomach-ache) over-the-counter medicine. But try as I may, nothing stopped the pain.

The pain was so intense, I couldn't lay down or sit down. And somehow in the middle of it all, I cried.

I cried alone.

I couldn't wake up my husband - he was going to work the following day; and I couldn't not go to sleep - I also had to work the following day.

So while he slept, I walked, tried to move, lay on the floor, sat in our guest room, and several times over, ended up in the bathroom - to throw up.

As horrible as that evening was, somehow, someway, I managed.

The following day I called my local clinic to make an appointment sometime that morning. They didn't seem to think it was urgent, and scheduled me for a late afternoon consult.

Upon my check-in, I listed all the issues I had the previous evening: nausea, throwing up, bloating, swelling, shaking, pain in my rib-cage...

I also added: this wasn't my first bout of nausia or vomiting - but it was the worst night ever.

I also listed my usual diet: a carb and coffee in the morning, a skipped lunch, and a sensible dinner. On the weekends I splurged, and yes, I drank wine.

"Sometimes I also eat lunch," I mentioned to my doctor. "But all in all, my diet was nothing that could cause so many issues," I added.

Or so I thought.

The doctor, maybe younger than me, seemed dismissive from the moment she walked in. She placed a doubtful pause each time I answered her questions: "no, I don't eat fast food." Or, "yes, it was only a cup of clam chowder."

My stomach, still swollen from the night before, was tender to the touch. And while she felt it, she told me my symptoms were caused by "over eating."

Yes, "over eating."

That was her diagnosis as she was quick to wash her hands after touching me.

"What do I do," I asked, as she held the door, "to make the pain go away?"

"Treat it like a tummy ache. You know...just drink liquids, saltines, and stay away from fast food. Just like, uh, when you over eat."

And that was it. That was my diagnosis in August of 2011: "stay away from fast food." Something, that if you know me, know that I don't like or eat.

Needless to say, I went through what I thought was a common stomach ache twice a month since that fateful day. The pain in my rib cage getting worse each time.

My constant bloating, I attributed to weight gain due to my lack of exercise, vacationing or the holidays.

The nausea, I thought was due to the various medications I take.

I tried most everything: taking medication with food, go to sleep hungry...anything, and I mean anything, to avoid feeling that horrible pain in my rib cage.

Very few people outside of my husband knew about my health issues. Mostly because it's more believable to say I got fat by eating than attributing weightgain to some unknown ailment. Add to that my diagnosed thyroid problem and my constant, and endless, health issues.

I am the fat woman most fat women love to hate.

Deep inside, I knew that most women were judging my growing girth and blaming it on my secret addiction to donuts (smirk).

Truthfully, I wish it was that simple.

Except for one friend, most everyone thought I was, well, crazy and over indulging. Some friends even reminded me about that "one time we went to dinner and had two rolls instead of one;" or the time that "I ate dinner and dessert."

Truth be told, through the power of social media I recently posted that I had food poisoning once again.

I posted this simple update mostly because I wanted someone to give me advice on how to make the pain go away, not because I expected to get a wake up call.

I am thankful that I did.

Because of my very thoughtful friend, I called my doctor who promptly advised me to go to the emergency room.

I was just as anoyed as my husband to end our Sunday early, and yet I still didn't think it would be more than a common stomach ache.

But things got serious when I was triaged, in a hospital gown and with an IV on my arm - in less than 15 minutes.

Upon my initial consult, my doctor made me feel less crazy when he said he didn't think my symptoms "were the cause of simply over eating."

He, instead, listened to all of my symptoms, including the random shoulder blade pain, and quickly requested a series of tests to rule out one of many issues that sounded more serious that a simple stomach ache.

From blood tests, to a painful ultra sound, my Sunday was spent in an ER.

I felt weaker as the day went on, but the pain wasn't as severe as when I first walked in the hospital.

And, for the first time in a very long time, I turned to my hubby while tears were streaming down my face.

I was scared.

While the pain isn't what it was a few days ago, I am now weak and tired. My eating, as to avoid additional flair-ups, is numbed with medication. And yet, I am still scared.

In four days, instead of celebrating my birthday with a visit to one of my favorite places, I will be admited in the same hospital I spent that fateful Sunday to remove an infected and stone-ridden gall bladder.

Could I have done anything different to prevent myself from being only days away from surgery?

Not really. But the pain could have stopped much sooner if my first doctor had properly diagnosed me.

So it's with that last thought that I leave you: Even if an ailment or illness isn't preventable, the diagnosis, let alone the pain, can be taken care of.

Don't wait and think that your sudden weight gain, pain and various other problems are in your head.

If you have a medical problem - even if minor - see a doctor.

If the doctor doesn't pay attention to you - see another.

But most importantly, make sure that you keep those you love informed of your pragnosis every step of the way.

Because, remember this much: if it wasn't for that very caring friend that connected the dots about my constant battle with food poisoning I wouldn't be here.

I could have died.

My European Beauty Obsession

2012-01-29T07:05:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that I'm a closet European.

Or, shall I say, "fascinated" with anything English, French, Italian, Greek and Spanish.

It all got started on one of my many trips to Mexico to visit my family. Being that Mexico was ruled by the French and many Europeans vacation in Mexico, I was exposed to Spanish pop music, French food, Spanish fragrances and Italian shoes before I was ten years old.

I didn't assume European-anything was better than what I was able to get back home in California, but I somehow liked it more.

Add to that my near addiction to the vintage Vogue magazines my aunt had in her Guadalajara home, and summer was my little piece of heaven on earth.

Unfortunately, I can no longer visit Mexico for the entire summer. But my mom brought back all the vintage fragrance bottles, brushes and other beauty novelties my family imported from Europe in the late 1800's and early 1900's.

The beautiful bottles, rouge and other beautiful relics remain in my mother's home. Until I can inherit those family "beauty" heirlooms, I buy my own European beauty finds- albeit reproductions of the classics.

These are a few of my favorite:

Denman Brushes
My mother still has my great grandmothers boars hair version of this classic brush. The beautiful round wood head with a slim handle sits lovingly on her vanity.

Inspired by the classic black, I've purchased two of my own, most recently last week. Even though my 2012 version of this classic doesn't have boars hair, it feels heavenly as it glides through my hair.

Caudalie Eye Cream

There's a reason I don't have wrinkles - not a one. Yes, my skin is enviable, and I know it. Even when I am sick and miserable - like now-, nurses don't ignore the fact that my "DOB" is 2.2.71." As in I am almost 41 years old...and still, no wrinkles.

Besides the fact that I stay away from the sun -outside of my yearly tropical vacations-I am forever slathering sunscreen. All. Over. My. Body.

But, as we all know, sunscreen close to your eyes is no bueno. So prevention is key. And this, my friends, is my trusted miracle worker. A small investment to keep you years away from the scalpel.

Joy by Jean Patou Fragrance

I won't deny it: The first time I purchased this fragrance was purely because of an advertisement from one my aunts vintage Vogue issues.

It was one of my first big investments while in college and a scent that most women my age (I was then in my 20's) didn't recognize. The more fashionable "ladies that lunch" sect did - and for that, I continued to buy it and receive it as gift from anyone that could find it. (It's not readily available at your run-of-the-mill retailers)

Wearing it makes me feel classic and unique at the same time. The smell is purely magical and, until now, one of my best kept secrets. (I don't even display it on my bathroom counter)

Maja Soap

Until now, mostly found in Mexico and in its birthplace Spain, Maja is the soap the ladies in my family bathed in for special occasions.

The black tissue-like paper wrapping and sticker with the unmistakable Spanish Flamenco dancer is an image of elegance ingrained in my memory. There wasn't a single household in my Mexican family that didn't have several of these dainty soaps in their vanity ready to be unwrapped for a very special occasion.

The scent is unmistakably floral and takes me back to a very special place. I am happy that the soap is now available most everywhere. Although finding it at convenience stores almost takes the unique aspect and special meaning away. That's why, to this day, I rather have it sent from Mexico or purchased online. I refuse to buy it when it displayed next to the $1.99 run of the mill soap.

Yonka Skincare
My first experience with this skincare line was in the early 90's in a little spa in the San Fernando Valley. I had never heard of this line, and frankly, since it was my first facial and I was only in my 20's, I never thought about buying the beautifully fragranced lotions for myself.

It wasn't until recently that I re-discovered Yonka on my quest to rehydrate my skin during this past very dry, and very hot summer. A few days after using this incredible lotion, together with an updated skin regime, I am happy to report that my skin feels, and looks better than it did before my wedding.

Beauty, I have found, isn't skin deep. It takes time, care, and a few beautiful finds to keep you lovely.

I hope you enjoyed reading about my European beauty favorites, and look forward to reading about yours.

Girl and the Movie

2012-01-28T17:50:00.000-08:00

This past year I was lucky to see the much touted about movie "Hugo" in all of its glory.

Like most good movies, Hugo left you with many (more) undeniable reasons to believe in why Martin Scorsese is one of today's best moving picture story tellers.

To say it was well worth the ticket price, is undermining how much more the story of Hugo impacted my spirit.

By similar fashion, the first movie I saw this year was "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close."

At first glance, the story of a child impacted by the death of his father during the World Trade Center attacks seems emotionally cliche: "Of course a child will have a hard time navigating the various emotions when he looses his father."

But to limit the story to simply the loss of a parent figure, shadows how much more the movie is able to portray to its viewers. Emotions being only one aspect of this film.

Again, another fabulous movie that everyone should watch.

In both cases I noticed similarities: both protagonists were young boys, both lost their fathers, and both empowered themselves through their difficult lives to find themselves.

Then I asked myself: why is it that Hollywood paints young women as needy victims that need to be saved?

Could a girl play these parts with the same quirks and eccentricities as those young boys did, and still be successful in her quest to find herself?

Why is it that when a boy lashes out with his opinion it's "thought-provoking," instead of being categorized as "difficult?" (as a girl would be in the same situation)

I wonder if a "girl" becomes a "girl" because movies paint her as such:

Pink-wearing, princess-ogling, needy human beings that can only find themselves with the help, of course, of the men in their lives.

What do you think?

Compact Urban Living: A Way of Life

2012-01-28T14:20:00.000-08:00

In my recent office, my Euro-staff (one former staffer was from Romania, the second from India by ways of London); was known to share that our agency was "more European than American" in our styling and lay-out. Everything, and I mean everything, had at least two purposes.

I've always been a fan of European-style living and have adopted the "multipurpose furniture and space" motto as soon as I was on my own. Personally, I have never been impressed by the very brash, and trash, of the sprawling "McMansion."

There isn't a single "colored wall" in my space, and I believe that everything can be repurposed once it's served it's original reason for being in our home. Case in point: My college-era book-cases became closet storage shelves.

To me, Compact Urban Living, is not a trend; its a way of life that we can all adopt.

Not only is it a good use of space, it's good for the community and a way of adopting green living practices.

Thankfully, I am not alone.

Read today's home profile featured in the Los Angeles Times, and get inspired by the beautiful photos to learn more about Compact Urban Living.

The Aging of the Pug

2012-01-23T13:50:00.000-08:00

A few days ago we walked in the house after being away for a few hours, only to be welcomed to a smell unfamiliar to us.

"What is that?" My husband asked as he wrinkled his nose.

As I called out for Chatito, my husband looked around the house to try and find where the smell was coming from.

Chatito seemed to be hiding but we couldn't figure out why: Was he sick? Did he hurt himself again?

And that smell - where was it coming from?

After a once over and turning on all the lights we looked towards our balcony to open our glass doors. It was then that we saw where the stain was coming from: a fresh urine stain on our brand new curtains.

A urine stain.

Chatito, obviously embarrassed and maybe relieved that he could now go outside, was cautiously following us around as we took the curtain down.

My husband, obviously upset, raised his voice in frustration...our brand new curtains were ruined!

Me, on the other hand, looked lovingly at Chatito's gray face. My baby is getting old.

From his arthritis, to his recent cancer diagnosis, to now incontinence, Chatito is no longer the pug we could leave at home for hours without a potty break.

Just as adjustments were made when my brother brought Chatito home for the first time, it's time that I also make changes in his care as he gets older.

Step one: Adjust our schedules to include more potty breaks for Chatito.

Step two: Get new curtains.

Creating Memories

2012-01-21T14:02:00.000-08:00

My mom likes to live in the past. It gives her comfort and gives her a reason to smile.

You see, in the past my dad is young and very much alive, my grandma didn't have alzeihmers, and I was only a baby.

I'm sure that my parents went through plenty of rough patches, but they seem to be nothing in comparison to the happy memories my mother proudly shares with anyone that will listen.

One of my favorite stories is about my dad and her working together and sharing one car.

"We only had one car that had to be shared with two adults, one baby and three schedules," my mom is known to share.

As the American Dream materialized, the house rental turned into a home purchase, one baby multiplied to two, and the garage was now a home for two cars.

From a Caprice Classic, to a Ford Mustang, to one of our Favorite family cars: a Ford Bronco, my youth and teenage years are marked with many family trips and Sunday services with my entire family in tow.

By the end of the 70's, it was four kids, a pair of parents, and a grandma that was our second mom; and a car, turns out, was much more than transportation: it was a vehicle that helped us create family memories.

So imagine my delight when I was invited by Ford to join them for the 2012 North America International Auto Show!

Sure, I know nothing about horse-power, power-trains, or any other auto-specific term, but I know this much about cars: they can be beautifully designed machines that offer more than a mode of transportation.

Cars, the right car, makes you feel strong, safe, powerful, young and free.

Especially in Los Angeles, cars, and how you care for your car, is an outward and very public display of your personality.

Being in the company of hundreds of cars, if only for a few hours, gave me a reason to think about the cars in my garage:

"Hun, you are getting a new car!," I screamed at the other end of the phone a few hours after the new Ford Fusion 2013 made its North American debut.

"Oh, yah?" Hubby asked, "And what car am I getting?"

If you ask me, we are simply upgrading the 2011 model we have. And why not? Seems like the perfect vehicle to create new memories!

Party for One

2012-01-20T23:45:00.000-08:00

Ten years ago I was planning my 30th birthday party. The plan was to dine and dance in one of the hottest lounges in the Los Angeles area.

More than 100 of my closest friends and few close family members joined me for a night of dining, dancing and impromptu singing. The funny thing is, there were so many people there, that besides the photos, my personal recollection of that evening is limited at best.

In the years following, I managed to limit my birthday party guest list to 70, 50 and at my most recent celebration, 25 people. (Disclaimer: my most recent celebration was planned by my husband)

Why the change?

Instead of building an impressive guest list focused on the number of people, I learned to be a better hostess and focus on the atmosphere and goal of my celebration:

Will guests be able to mingle with new people?
Will the atmosphere be welcoming to the majority of guests?
Does the location, decor and food set the mood for the event?

A similar planning process happened when we (my hubby and me) planned our wedding: from creating a detailed guest list, to mapping-out a fully planned seating arrangement, to the selection of a diverse menu and song list...every single one of them!

The goal of our wedding was to showcase an upscale Latino celebration, while embracing our combined cultures (Italian, Hungarian, American and Mexican-American), and creating an atmosphere to allow for my friends to meet my hubby's friends, his family to meet my family, and everyone - at least in theory - to be able to mingle.

Our wedding reception was that: a reception for a limited few friends and family members. We never planned on having a party.

But different strokes for different folks, right?

Whereas our reception was focused on the details, an upcoming wedding in which my hubby and I are both invited, is focused on the number of people (totaling more than 300!), and a party atmosphere.

This isn't uncommon: My hubby and I have been invited to several events and parties that are focused on the number of people in attendance.

The details, including atmosphere - or vibe of the event - are mostly overlooked.

Will the guests gel or not?
Will the host or hostess make sure that guests mingle?
Is the quality of the event or party compromised by simply focusing on the number of guests?

These are all questions that I have found many hosts in their quest to "show-off" the success of their event or celebration overlook:

The number of people in a room do not give the event more klout.

Actually, the most memorable events are those that are intimate and welcoming for everyone involved.

I'm sure that you will agree with me on this: They happen to feel much larger than they were!

The lesson in this story is this: never base the success of a celebration or event on the number of people there.

May your next celebration feel as large and be as welcoming as your heart is.

Them, You and Me

2012-01-15T19:23:00.000-08:00

Seems unreal that only a week ago I was sitting on a tour bus on my way to a museum reception for my first event of the 2012 North American International Auto Show Ford trip (#FordNAIAS)

Although I had been in Detroit for a few hours before that short bus ride, I didn't know any of the other 140+ bloggers personally before my trip.

My first engagement with a #FordNAIAS blogger was when sitting at the hotel restaurant bar. He was sitting at the other end of the bar Tweeting as was I. Then we had the "aha" moment when he sat closer to me and engaged in conversation with a perfect stranger: me.

A few minutes later he was telling me about his trip from London to Detroit and genuinly interested in the blogger collective I was representing. This was the start of something fabulous that was about to happen:

I made new and friendly connections with various other design and art professionals that also happened to be bloggers.

Amazingly enough, these bloggers also happened to Turkish, Brittish, French, South Asian, German and Canadian. They blogged about Fashion, were avid Instagramers, shared in my foodie lifestyle, and were kind-enough to put-up with my moment of wide-eyed fan-tude.

As I shared with my friends back-home, this event, by-far, had the smartest, savviest and the most ego-less group of bloggers I have ever come across.

I ate it up and took advantage of learning from everyone I came in contact with. And why not? I had the unique opportunity of learning from the brightest minds in the automobile, design, fashion and arts industry.

Another great thing about this opportunity was also sharing a little about me with bloggers that didn't have a preconceived notion about the Latina Lifestyle Bloggers Collective, my intentions, or my qualifications as a PR professional or blogger. It was by all intents and purposes, refreshing.

It showed in my spirit and my constant bounce in my step. (Heck, I even wore high-heeled booties and didn't feel the pain in my ankle when I walked the entire NAIAS floor!)

Instead of being cautious of what I said, who I said it to, and who it might upset, I opened up.

I was me.

I was the me that was comfortable in sharing my point of view, nerdy, strong willed, and otherwise contradictory to popular belief.

Like when I asked if Ford designs for men or women - to the head of design!

The answer: Women are brought in early in the design process to give their "female" perspective. This was especially true with the newly redesigned Ford Fusion which appeals to both men and women.

I was the me that almost jumped up from my chair when a Ford speaker posed the same question I was almost crucified over: "So What?"

Which I followed up with the question: "Does culture shift design or does design shift culture?" to some of the brightest minds in Design, in a roomful of bloggers from all over the world and Ford exec's. (Yep, I'm that balsy)

The answer: Ford designs globally and works collectively for global products.

And it was then that I realized: I am at my best, when I am surrounded by good design, creative brains, and smart folks.

View my photos HERE or on Instagram.

A Latina in Detroit

2012-01-08T19:13:00.001-08:00

I never thought I would say this - ever - but I think I am the only Latina in this hotel; and I feel honored to be here.

Besides being flown, shuttled, fed and given the opportunity to sleep in a pretty swanky place, Ford has made it possible for me to be part of the 24th Annual North American International Auto Show; as a representative of the Latina Lifestyle Bloggers Collective.

As I tweeted earlier today, somewhere in the heaven's, my father is smiling down on me. By contrast, my father-in-law wishes he could be a fly on the wall. My husband, mean while, is stomping at the bits to find out what the new 2013 Ford Fusion has in store (he has the 2011 version).

Do you have any idea what this means? I will be one of the first to view the top secret 2013 Ford Fusion!!

That being the highlight, the rest of my agenda is packed with various learning opportunities, and a few other exciting press-only opportunities.

For starters, Ford is hosting dinner at the Henry Ford Museum. With 150 bloggers from all over the world invited to the dinner, courtesy of Ford, I imagine the event will be nothing less than spectacular.

I plan to upload photos throughout my stay in the Motor City. View them here, and uploaded on this blog after I return to LA.

Because ABC Said So...

2012-01-05T23:39:00.000-08:00

I'm not crazy....

Really, I'm not.

According to a recent report, Chatito and his other four-legged relatives are as close to humans as infants.

I'll leave the jokes up to you, but I'll have the last laugh on this one: Chatito doesn't talk back to me or throw tantrums.

Live, Love, Eat.

2012-01-04T23:18:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that I gained 15 lbs in 2010.

Besides the lack of exercise due to my health and injuries, much of that gain (no pun intended) was largely due to getting settled-in as as wife.

Add to that a vacation to Puerto Rico in which I enjoyed a variety of meals, drinks and desserts I had only read about (Mofongo anyone?!), I sealed the weight gain with my first over-the-top Holiday eating marathon. And I loved it. Every single bite of most every dish I cooked, ordered and was put in front of my nose, I inhaled it with absolute delight.

I blame it on one simple question: "What do you want for Dinner?"

That's it, that's all I had to ask my husband shortly after he moved in (before marriage, of course).

His big brown eyes and lashes most women would kill for, would dance with delight when giving me random requests:

"Spaghetti with meat sauce," He would shyly request.

A few weeks into our live-in relationship, he moved on to more elaborate dishes: "How about mussels?"

Me, of course, would give in to his every meal wish. I glowed with pride when he boasted about every single meal, lunch box, or early-morning breakfast that I would cook for him.

I did it, of course, out of love - but also because I wanted to prove that I was a much better wife than his previous spouse.

"I can," I thought, "run a business, then come home to clean and decorate a home, while looking pretty and loosing weight (not gaining - like most women did), and of course, cook elaborate meals...every work-day, and breakfast and lunches only on the weekend."

It was a well, I thought, thought-out plan.

I could do it.

Women in the 1950s did "it," and "I" certainly could do it.

I am, of course, a much better rendition of all these women before me; and a much better partner than his previous wife.

I could do it.

Yep - I was one overzealous newlywed wife.

But I did it. I really did it...until December of last year. Which is only four days ago, but I digress.

Going back to my original point - the first two months of my marriage were great, awesome, amazing - every single blissful thought that you can imagine, I lived it. Yep, sure did.

But ending 2010 wasn't that fabulous, and my health wasn't that great. I had, for the first time, failed as who I thought I should be: The perfect wife.

Sure, I tried to walk without my cast and do what I did for the previous two years...but it didn't work in my favor. The cast stayed much longer, and my figure - which I had proudly shrunk before and after my wedding date - was no more.

I couldn't handle it all - and by the time our one year anniversary approached, I was tired, moody, and my body, albeit bigger than a few months earlier, malnourished according to medical tests.

My thyroid needed more and different medication than the earlier part of the year, and my skin, nails and hair were showing the signs of a very unhealthy woman inside.

I was, by every imaginable definition, wearing myself down.

So come October, a vacation was just what the doctor ordered.

Unlike my Honeymoon in Kauai, I didn't pick at food and pretend I was eating it. I didn't starve myself all day and wait to dinner to eat.

I actually started with breakfast, had lunch and dinner! I tried food that seemed odd, smelled strange, and was served in a roadside shack.

Food, fitting more of a traditional Caribbean diet, didn't sit well with my body. By the end of the first day in Puerto Rico, I was so bloated that my wedding ring was tightening around my finger!

Usually, I would start a juice fast - but I didn't. Heck, I was on vacation - and I needed to get better.

My goal was to eat, sleep and have fun.

I did, and I loved it. Unfortunately, the Caribbean salt, carbs and meats that I inhaled during my ten-day stay also loved me.

Returning to California allowed me to go back to my usual light, yet unhealthy lifestyle: coffee and some sort of carb in the morning, a skipped lunch and a healthy, yet heavy dinner.

Even when I cooked some-sort of pasta dish for my husband, I made sure to simply pick at it. But the reality was, I gained weight in Puerto Rico and I did nothing to try to loose it as soon as I got back to reality.

I just made one bad decision after another one. Mostly, it was starving myself.

As we all know, starving yourself only makes your body hold on to any bit of food it comes into contact with. Not to mention, making very bad choices when you finally sit down to eat.

Add to that, the close proximity and unavoidable food-focused celebrations during the Holidays; so, I threw in the towel: "This year," I told my husband, "I am finally going to eat everything I cook and taste everything presented to me."

I did. But things change.

Before the end of the year, I was already tired of cooking pasta weekly and avoiding anything green or healthy on our dinner plates - because my "fast-food-loving" hubby didn't like it.

I began to disagree with his dinner choices, and use my weight gain as a hook to change our eating habits: "Honey, do you want me to get fat - again?" I asked before 2010 came to a screeching halt.

"You won't get fat - but you did gain weight around your tummy." he told me.

He was right - it was all in my middle, and I didn't like it. I don't like it.

So I convinced him to please go back to the type of meals that I used to cook for my parents and myself: Healthy versions of traditional and fun dishes.

I also convinced him to try smaller and healthier alternatives when dining out, which we tend to do every weekend.

He's so inspired, that he has even leafed through one of our recent cook-books gifted by a lovely newlywed foodie couple we recently met:

"Hun, maybe we should try to make the Granola for breakfast this weekend before we head out...hiking maybe?," he cheerfully suggested earlier today.

Of course, it's only the second weekend of the year. But witnessing my hubby ordering salads on two different days or eating a chicken enchilada with low-fat cheese, makes me very, very proud of him...and gives me hope that I will loose these pesky 15 pounds before summer hits.

Don't Call it a Resolution. It's a Workable Goal.

2012-01-03T21:27:00.000-08:00

A few weeks leading up-to New Years Eve of 2011, my Facebook and Twitter stream were bursting with new years goals, must-do's in 2012, resolutions and bucket lists.

Everyone, it seemed, had at least one or two new goals and several half-down resolutions from years past that promised to "be done in 2012."

"This Time," several trumped, "it will be different."

"This time," most boasted, "I will loose weight."

Pragmatic by nature, I'm also a bit jaded; to the point that I have stopped caring about the litany of possibilities a new year has if written on a piece of paper.

It actually annoys me to hear a list of dreams without a realistic path or plan of action. Nothing, including a weightloss routine, I believe, can be done without research, a plan of action and a support system.

Jumping into a weightloss plan requires action steps that can keep you on track and accountable.

Have you done any of this?

If you haven't, it's probably best that you do these things before you set yourself up for failure: whether it be a gym membership that is never used, a healthy menu that is never cooked, or a girth that never shrinks.

It's important to "know yourself."

I, for one, get bored quiet easily; and, I tend to change-up my fitness routiness a couple of times a year. Or mix it up with a few things at the same time: Hiking and weight training; pilates and power walking, you get the picture.

But instead of starting a new fitness routine in the beginning of the year, I use the entire month of January to plan and make sure to start the year with a strong foundation. While I am doing something else to keep myself active.

The first half of this year, I am focusing on a home work-out, power walking and am currently researching Pilates studios - for what I hope to be, a full body workout and the key to loosing the 15 lbs I gained in the later half of 2011.

How do I do it?

Step 1: Research
Before I sign up for the latest gym "special," I do my homework.

Not only do I tour local gyms, and studios, I also speak to their trainers, review class schedule and even speak to a few members before I sign on the dotted line. I also look into my personal finances, before I speak to sales managers to make sure I'm not biting more than I could chew.

You will be surprised to know that a more expensive gym can be less expensive in the long-run because of the amenaties that can both save me time and money.

If you are looking into home-based work-outs, like I am this time around, read reviews on Facebook and various other online consumer reports and blogs.

Something to also think about, is do you have the space to work-out in your home, and do you have the proper ventilation and privacy needed to really maximize your workout.

Step 2: Plan
When I signed up as a gym member, I took note of all the amenties that were available to me for a limited time to make sure I took advantage of them or transfered them to a friend.

I also scheduled and prioritized all my workouts in my iCal and kept my fiance (now husband) and staff abreast of the times I would be booked - even if after hours.

But the most important step in planning, is to not over plan. Which is hard - because as women, we have it in our DNA to bite more than we can chew.

The reality is, I do it for work, I did it for the gym, and I do it in my personal life.

But it's not realistic to think that you can, or will be able to, stick to your routine 100%. And for that, you need a little cushion or lee-way, if you want to call it that.

I know this by personal experience: with a broken foot and a Lupus scare that derailed more than half of 2011, going to the gym was medically impossible.

It was hard because for the first time ever I enjoyed going to the gym.

It took some time, but I finally have the medical clearance to get back into the swing of things - albeit, at a slower pace than the intense workouts I was accustomed to.

Step 3: Support System
When I started going back to the gym I was excited and committed. My thyroid was on check and all of my medications seemed to be working well.

My neighbors, which happen to be some of my closest friends, were my biggest cheerleaders along with my husband. My family, unfortunately, not so much (with the exception of a few people).

Besides the Latino-snarle that I was privvy too when I would mention - excitedly- that my trainer had complimented a lunge, or I moved up a knotch with my dumb bells, I was also subjected to eye rolls and snickers.

In my family's eyes, they couldn't believe that I could stick to a gym schedule.

Although with lots of hard work and medication that kept my Thyroid working, I was able to drop to a size 14 from my original 22 in one year. But I never saw myself that way.

Even with my weight gain of 15 lbs and my bigger size 16, I have yet to see myself as a smaller version of the size 22 I used to be.

If you are on a journey to be a healtheir you, you probably also see yourself as a fattie - and you will probably never fully embrace your smaller size.

That's why it's important to have a good support system: Not only will they keep you real, they will inspire you, and love you as you go up -and down- in your journey to being a happier, and healthier you.

Don't forget - a healthy lifestyle is not a destination, it's a journey - and we are in this together.

Honoring 2011 and Celebrating the Start of 2012

2011-12-30T18:47:00.000-08:00

Instead of shopping for new underwear, prepping my luggage or buying grapes in anticipation of the new year, I am doing only one thing:

Cleaning. And, organizing.

Ok, maybe it's two things - but you get the point.

In my defense, my parents didn't partake in any superstitious activities on New Years Eve...heck, we didn't even do much celebrating; unless, of course, you count our stop at our local Catholic Church as a religious celebration (versus an act of devotion and respect that it was).

When in my 20's and early 30's, my best friend and room-mate at the time, would sit with me to plan our New Years Eve and New Years Day celebrations. Yep, we celebrated in style.

For us it wasn't just how we ended the year, but also how we started the new year. Whereas we might end the year at one of our favorite restaurants, we were usually booked for a massage and facial the afternoon of the new year.

When I met the man that later become my hubby a few months prior to the end of 2007, I expected some sort of romantic New Years Eve celebration.

"Maybe he'd bring over Champagne and cater dinner." That was a no.

"Maybe he'd make reservations at a restaurant overlooking the ocean." That was a no.

"Maybe he'd take me to a far-off locale and kiss me under the stars." That was a no.

So what did my "then" boyfriend plan for our first New Years Eve celebration? A night of shopping for board games at our local Target and Chinese take-out.

His plan was to have a quiet New Years Eve celebration while watching the Ball Drop at "home."

Yep, home.

"We are spending New Years eve at home," he chimed in when I asked him what he planned for our first New Years Eve together.

Funny thing is...the home he was referring to, was my apartment - that he didn't live in. Little did I know that a few months later I would do the one thing I thought I would never do: Live with him.

As surprising and unexpected as our first year together, the later years have taken me to beautiful locations, and celebrated the start of a new year at places we both love.

My Plans to Ring in 2012:

Today, while many of you are busy rummaging through drawers or making the last minute trek to the grocery store or Victorias Secret to buy the red undies that will bring you love in 2012, I will be doing my last minute cleaning and organizing to symbolically welcome a new year with a clean slate.

I will then celebrate the last day of 2011 in one of my favorite places in Southern California with a couple of my favorite people, then come home to kiss my hubby and four-legged son in our home at the strike of midnight.

As simple as that sounds, it feels -just right.-

May you too honor the end of a year and celebrate the start of a new year with those you love.

Love, Health and Success in 2012 to you and yours.

Adopt a Pug

2011-12-27T23:42:00.000-08:00

During Chatito's last vet visit, we ran into new parents that happened to adopt a four-legged son a short time before their biological son was born.

While waiting for the vet to remove Chatito's stitches, the giddy new parents were sharing how loving and attentive their golden retriever acted towards their new baby.

"We followed the Cesar Millan method..." shared the proud father.

"We brought a baby blanket in the house first, then took Barney (Dog's name has been changed) outside to meet Jack (baby's name has been changed)..." added the spunky new mom.

Although my husband and I have no (immediate) plans to start a "biological" family, this sort of insight seemed like great information to share with my husband a few hours later:

"Hun, did you know that we should bring Chatito outside to meet our son before we bring him in the house?" I told him later that day.

"Uh...no...." -silence- "Are you pregnant?" he asked.

"No, no - of course not." I exclaimed; then added: "Isn't it a great idea though?"

"Uh, yeah." Hubby responded - somewhat annoyed.

"I wonder if we should do the same when we get Chatito a sister?" I asked.

"Don't know. We'll talk about it when we get Chatito a sister." My hubby added.

You see, Chatito is nine...he's been my baby for most of his life. But, unfortunately, with age, Chatito has had a series of health issues in the last year: non-cancerous eye tumor, cancerous tail tumor, arthritis and a two fused spine disks.

Somehow, someway, natural aging has taken over our, until recently, healthy pug. Naturally, we think about bringing a him a sister to our home to keep our baby healthy and happy for the rest of his adult life.

My hubby, a doggy parent prior to meeting me, had the unfortunate experience of also seeing his four-legged children leave this earth; and agrees: Chatito needs company.

This is a topic that I didn't think I would need to worry about for quite some time. But the universe (or the man upstairs) had different plans.

Thankfully, there's various shelters and rescue non-profits that have plenty of pugs that need a home. And, although Chatito is a purebred pug, who's care has not only taken plenty of time but also a huge financial commitment, we are open to looking into pug adoption the second time around.

If you are also considering adding a four-legged family member to your home, I urge you to also look into these resources to adopt a pug before you consider buying from a puppy mill or mall pet retailer.

Not only will you be bringing a dog that is past the puppy stage, you will also be saving a life!

Don't Regift

2011-12-27T13:55:00.000-08:00

A few years back I was forced to partake in the painful practice of an "office white elephant activity." (yes my friends, it was an activity planned within the office Holiday party!).

In this hideously painful office party activity, all the staff would bring in a gift valued at a predetermined cost and place it under the tree. We would then pick numbers, and in chronological order pick a gift under the tree.

But wait, it gets painfully worse as the activity reached employee #2 and so forth: He or she, could take a gift under the tree and then have the choice to exchange it with what employee #1 had picked out first. Employee #1 had to either morn the loss of the gift he or she had, or squeal with delight at the new gift.

Now, employee #3 picks a gift and if he (or she) chooses to take the gift that either employee #1 or #2 has, and employee #2 can take it away from employee #1.

Does it sound complicated? Yep - it was! And worse, it was horribly embarrassing to watch how so-called office friends threw-out perfectly acceptable gifts in exchange for liquor bottles. (The gift, I found out, that everyone wanted).

One year I had taken the time to meet a letter-press card designer and purchased a hand-wrapped set of note cards and pen, together with a hand-wrapped silk card-case. I thought that my gift would be fitting of any PR professionals desk and purchased a set for my personal use as well.

When it came time for employee #whatever to pick a gift under the tree, I held my breath. I had already heard more than one snarky remark about various other gifts under the tree.

Worth more than the pre-set gift value of the exchange, the person that picked the gift smirked at it and threw it across the room! According to her, it was cheap!

I wanted to crawl into a hole as the beautiful silk box and satin ribbon's unraveled as it was tossed several more times that evening. The letter-pressed and hand-made linen paper note cards were damaged and the pen was lost in the shuffle.

My feelings were obviously hurt and marked my selection of white elephant gifts: Never again would I go through the trouble of buying something fitting of me.

Since then, I have enjoyed several other white elephant gift exchanges. Most of the gifts -given and received- were cookie-cutter average: ranging from department store gift certificates to pre-packed Holiday gift boxes. Sometimes, not often, I received a gift that I had no use for. But when I saw the face of the gift-giver, I couldn't bring myself to do the hurtful thing someone else had done to me years priors.

Many times - actually, most of the time - I have tried to use said gift or display the oh-not-so-me platter that was given to me by someone that cared enough to buy me something.

The over-the-top pieces of jewelry that are more fitting of a black-tie gala than my yuppyesque daily wardrobe, found a spot in my jewelry chest and come-out once or twice a year to adorn my neck and ears. Surprisingly, unlike my initial "I-so-couldn't-wear-this" personal reaction, I have received various compliments from people who's style I admire.

While I laugh at the snark and creative name-calling for gifts that weren't received with the joy they were given, I find it rather distasteful to re wrap them for someone else.

Why would you give a gift that you found too hideous for yourself to someone else?!

With that in mind, I offer you a suggestion this year: instead of rewrapping gifts, tossing or donating to Goodwill, why don't you try them first?

Ugly Scarf:
That ugly blue scarf might look beautiful as a head-band.

Ugly Bracelet:
The dangly bracelet could be used as key chain.

Ugly Large Earrings:
The ugly and large earrings can be used as a scarf or coat pin

Ugly Platter:
Remember: Pretty food makes any platter look beautiful!

Hope my simple ideas helped make your almost regiftable gifts keepers...and make someone's Holiday much brighter by seeing how you use and appreciate your gift!

Christmas is Not About The Children

2011-12-24T08:30:00.000-08:00

I have been fortunate to have the opportunity to take, for the first time in five years, a Holiday break. For the last two days, I have slept in, met friends for coffee, and -gasp- watched Daytime Television!

Instead of using television as my usual white noise, I have made a concerted effort to really take time off. So after my morning walk, I sat down with a cup of coffee and Chatito on my lap. My morning show of choice? Good Day L.A.

Glazing over light journalism and celebrity updates, (remember, this is all new to me!), the statement that "Christmas was all about the kids..." woke me up.

Really? Soo, Christmas is all about the kids - and no one else?

This statement was made in reference to a holiday charity drive - which, as usual - focuses on toys and the kids.

I agree. It's wonderful to see kiddies in their footed PJ's and wide-eyed stares open ther gifts on Christmas morning. Even I love watching my nieces and nephews open their gifts!

But have I ever thought that Christmas was all about the kids - and only the kids? Nope. Not even when "I" was a kid.

Whereas every TV commentator seems to believe that having a gift on Christmas morning is a make-or-break future memory for today's kids; my early teenage memories are those of me obsessing about the gift I was buying my father (who is now deceased), mother and maternal grandma.

I probably hoped I would get some sort of cheesy 80's something-or-other, and I certainly screamed with delight when my parents gave me my very own copy of Nirvana's Nevermind CD. But nothing, not a single gift, gave me more pleasure than watching my parents open their own gifts.

Whether it was my father begrudgingly opening a gift that the four of us picked out for him, or the first time I gave him the cologne that he would wear until the day he died, there isn't a single gift that was given to me that gave me more joy than the gift I gave my parents - or those they gave to each other.

Like the year my father gave my mother a gold watch. It was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen! And when we had a break-in in our home years later and that beautiful watch, among other things, was stolen, my dad enlisted me in helping him replace that watch.

My father, albeit not the most outwardly affectionate man, was a definite stud when it came to treating my mother like a woman. My mother, a more affectionate spouse, treated my dad like a king...and his gifts were equally as beautiful and touching. Not because of the financial value - there were years that it was a robe and slippers waiting for my dad under the tree - but because they made it a point to make each other as important as we, their children were.

My dad was known to make a clear distinction in the two roles my mother had in our home: wife and the mother of his children. He went as far as buying her two set's of flower bouquets for Mother's Day (a gesture that to this day has made a significant impact in my view towards women, marriage and parenthood).

In turn, my parents showed me how to enjoy giving to our parents and grandparents, more so than expecting a million gifts under the tree solely for me (or my three siblings).

Actually, I don't recall a single year having a tree with gifts only for the kids, and none for my parents. Unfortunately, most non-profits and charities today are doing just that: focusing on the kids.

Now, this is not to say that kid's shouldn't receive a gift. But leaving the parents, who happen to be the rock, the support system, and a child's major source of influence, completely out of the Holiday is teaching children something that is common place with today's youth and encourages selfish behavior: everything is about them.

And I disagree. Correction, I strongly disagree.

I believe that the Holiday's are equally as important to adults as they are to children. Again, this isn't about the gift - but the simple, yet impactful act, of teaching a child that they are the most important member of the household.

This is a discussion that my husband, a father of two college-age daughters, and I discuss: how do we unteach the girls that in the real world it isn't just about them.

"It's simple," I told him, "let's start with Christmas."

I hope that you too start with Christmas and enjoy it as much as you want your children to.

And if you haven't purchased a single thing for your spouse or significant other, consider doing it today.

Maybe next year you can purchase one less gift for your kids and buy one for the person that will be with you when your children leave to college: your spouse.