Play it now, my baby...

Oh, I love my Rosie child
She got the way to make me happy
You and me, we go in style
Cracklin' Rosie you're a store-bought woman
You make me sing like a guitar hummin'
So hang on to me, girl
Our song keeps runnin' on

Play it now
Play it now
Play it now, my baby

--"Cracklin' Rosie," by Neil Diamond


This is the song I woke up with. Didn't hear it yesterday or this week or even within the most remote timeframe.

I just woke up with it and it's been swirling around in my brain all morning while getting dressed, feeding the dogs, through a breakfast meeting with one of my peeps from work.... By the time I got to the office and realized it was still with me, I decided there was only one choice: Buy it on iTunes and blast it out loud. And dance.

The few folks here at the office laughed with me. I told them I had no idea why in the world it was in my head. Someone offered up, "Well you know who it is then. It's the baby."

I liked that thought so much, I had to rattle off the first blog post in 6 months.

Thanks for the song, Bean.

Eulogy for Manuel Lopez, Jr.

Manuel. Manual. Manny. ‘Into. Mr. Lou. Little Friend.

Primo. Tio. Hermano. Grandpa. Dad. Daddy.

And to Sotera Lopez: Mi Amor.

And no matter what other name we had for him, or which title he held in our lives, it is true that we all called him Friend.

His eyes were kind. His smile was his calling card. He was patient and protective. He was always ready for a joke. He was generous. He was talented. He was your biggest fan.

When I reflect on a life of knowing him, I will remember his laugh. His bouncing knee that seemed like it had a separate motor from the rest of his body. His serenity and sense of purpose when he entered a church. I’ll remember how he slurped his morning coffee and how happy he was when he had any instrument in his hands, especially when he was strapped in behind the accordion. The one displayed at the Rosary last night. The one his wife saved for months to buy him. The one he so lovingly and consciously entrusted to his oldest grandson Gary Douglas just a week before he died.

I’ll remember that, when I was with him, I simply felt special. Just like every one of you did. It’s that feeling that packed the chapel for the rosary last night.

I can remember being in Stamford for a wedding where, as usual, I was running around with all the cousins at the dance reception. I cruised by the table where our family was sitting. Grandpa looked up, saw me, and said, “M’ija, let’s dance.” My heart soared! And then it sank. It was like Fred Astaire asking me to dance, only I didn’t know how to. At these occasions, I just goofed off with the cousins and drooled at the cake table. I didn’t dance. So, I tried to decline, but he led me out to the dance floor anyway. And I was so awkward. I felt like everyone was looking at me, seeing that I didn’t know what I was doing, and I started to cry. I felt like I was letting Grandpa down.

But he just held me close and told me softly what to do with my feet. And I remember thinking, “Why doesn’t he let me stop? Can’t he see I don’t know what I’m doing? This is embarrassing.” He took me around and around until the song was finished. I thought he was being mean. But that wasn’t it at all. Not only was he teaching me to dance, (which, clearly I needed the lesson) but he was also teaching me that, sometimes, you have to learn right out in front of everyone. And if you can’t do that in front of family, even if they are a big bunch of teasers, good luck with the rest of the world.

The life Grandpa led was an example of fearlessness and not worrying about whether the circumstances were just perfect. Like José said last night, he was a man of great faith in God. And a belief that we all have a calling. That belief led to many pursuits and adventures in 78 years. I asked Grandma a few nights ago if there was any adventure in particular that she wanted me to share, and after a moment of trying to pinpoint just one, she said, “M’ija, our whole life was an adventure.”

I know Grandpa would want me to keep this brief. In fact, he probably thinks I’ve said too much already. But I’d like to end by thanking all of you, on behalf of his wife, his children and grandchildren, and his brothers and sisters. Thank you for being here today and all throughout this week. Grandpa has been honored by your presence, your prayers, your beautiful flowers. If you traveled, may God see you safely home. Thank you to our amazing local family for your love and support. The abundant food and all the little things we may not even know you’ve done to make this week easier. Thank you to Father Thu, Deacon Jim, the Altar Society y las Guadalupanas here at St. George.

And thank you, Grandpa. For sharing your adventure with us. For the laughter. And the music that still rings in our ears. Thank you for teaching us all – in some way – how to dance through life with grace and courage. It is a dance that your family does across the great state of Texas. It’s danced from the Rocky Mountains to the East Coast and even overseas, in service to our country. So, if you keep playing that accordion and singing your song from up there, we promise to keep dancing — even when we don’t know the steps. Because we know you’ll be right here, whispering them to us.

Manuel Lopez, Jr., born December 25, 1932, died March 19, 2011. This eulogy was delivered March 23, 2011 at St. George Catholic Church in Fort Worth, Texas.

10 pounds and BALLS!

Still managing to eat right. Still cooking or preparing nearly every meal. My trip to Texas this past week was a combo of my normal plan and improvisation, and included having my grandparents' menudo (the BEST bowl of menudo in the world), along with my grandma's tortillas, thankyouverymuch. I managed to have only one tortilla with my bowl and didn't feel deprived at all. (Usually, I'd have at least three to a bowl.)

On Saturday, my aunt and uncle went all-out, renting a big ol' smoker to smoke two briskets, three slabs of ribs, several chickens and maybe even sausage, I can't remember now. My aunt made these amazing beans, potato salad, cole slaw, deviled eggs; Mom made a tres leches cake; my aunt and I made pumpkin fudge, a pineapple upside down cake; and guests brought other sundry items, including pumpkin cobbler (!). I had little bites of anything I wanted. I also made sure to eat some lower-glycemic things throughout the day so I didn't attack any food out of angry hunger. After all was said and done for the weekend, I'm now a pound down from this time last week.

I can friggin' do this. It's ten pounds altogether now.

Speaking of being home, that was really nice. My cousin won't be able to make it down from NYC for either of the holidays, so we seized an earlier opportunity to have all the family together and soak up some time with Grandpa. The only person missing was Lee, who had just traveled so he couldn't take more time right away. I also managed to catch up with my bestie Angela. We were inseparable in college and, since moving here eleven and-a-half years ago, it's gotten harder and harder to keep up. But we talked until 3am Friday night. She's in the midst of some pretty intense changes and I think I'm happier for her now than I've ever been.

As always, any visit is divided (not always equally) between my Lopez half and my Hinshaw half, so despite this trip being pretty focused on the Lopezes, I got some time in with the Hinshaws, too, including a lovely lunch with my Aunt Dixie and brunch with my Dad and siblings.

My sister Asia (read her blog here) has this wonderful guy in her life who is constantly befuddled by our lack of planning.

Him: Isn't your sister here?
Asia: Yeah, I think she got in yesterday.
Him: Well, are we doing something with her?
Asia: I don't know, I'm sure we will.

Thing is, we've grown accustomed to waiting until I'm actually in town before planning anything. Because, for Asia and me, quality time can come at any time of day or night, doing just about anything. (Except napping. She hates when I want to take a nap.) So, we usually let my schedule fill with the less-flexible events and my work schedule (Go, telecommuting!), then fill in our time around that. This isn't very easy on our significant others, though, who may find themselves kicking off their shoes to lay down on the couch just as one of us gets off the phone with the other and annoucnes, "We're going to a movie!" I love my sister. I love that we have a way we do things, a style that is common to us and uncommon to everyone else. But, point taken: We need to plan a little more or we're gonna drive our boys crazy.

And then there's BALLS!, a show I guest-starred in last year, but have now joined for the whole crazy ride. We've been working on refreshing some of last year's bits and will soon work on totally new material. One of the things I'm most excited about is that this year, each of the six nights will benefit a different local non-profit. Read all about it and then make your reservation! It's gonna be a blast!

Remember that time when I was all addicted?

Exactly one week ago, I couldn't imagine how I would make it through the rest of the week. I pictured myself, lying in an alley, passed out with an empty Lamar's Donuts box over my face and the awful stench of failure surrounding me.

But I did it, I went the week (with a minor adjustment to make room for life on Thursday night). The reset ended Friday evening and then I was released into the wild, into a world of ALL THAT FOOD, and you know what? Still towing the line. I've been preparing my meals, planning my day, walking past the kitchen at work which smelled suddenly of bacon and mac n' cheese all the time (eff you, office mates), and still I'm really doing a-ok. I did indulge in three vodka sodas at the LUPEC Crush Party, but that doesn't count.

Everyone knows the clear liquor doesn't count, right?

Anyhoo. I don't think I'm cured, by any stretch of the imagination. It's just that I can see so clearly now just how much I was shooting up with carbs. There are things in my kitchen now that only uber "with it" people know how to prepare: bulgur wheat, couscous, brown rice. Turns out, all you do is add hot water!

Okay, I knew that. But honestly, I thought it took a genius to cook well enough to make that stuff taste good. Turns out, anything tastes good after a week of not eating!

Okay, that's not really true. Found out not to ever EVER cook mushrooms in lime juice. (It was an accident.)

But seriously, people. Good food. It's worth the effort to reach past the Nutritional Industrial Complex and get your hands on some. I've been hot on the trail since reading Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food, which inspired me to grow a garden. But I think I was missing a major point: You can't really get the most out of real food if you're still also eating so much of the fake crap. But now, because I can feel a physical lightness, a clearheadedness, I'm a believer with a whole new fervor. (Don't worry, I don't have to talk about it at parties if you don't want to.)

Plus. Over six pounds gone and counting. Come on. I get to learn how to cook new recipes AND lose weight? Hey. Know what we're having for dinner tonight? Filet mignon.

Lamar's Schlamars.

For the love of all that is food

I've been eating ANYTHING that fits in my mouth. And I've been wishing (as if I have no control over these matters) that I could just clear the slate and start over with my habits. I've done it before (at least twice), but it seems that this proposition gets harder every time.

Enter: my pal C, who, on a trip to Aspen to celebrate our pal Julie's birthday, got us all geeked up to do a Reset. Man. Three girls can work themselves into a frenzy for just about anything. And I paid money for this strange form of torture.

This is my 2nd of five days, and if I don't run screaming to the movies for popcorn first, (CRAVING. Hard) I can tell by my body's reaction that there really is the potential for a reset because it is clear that I'm in the throes of withdrawal, here.

Headache? Check.
Irritation? Check.
The shakes? Check.

It's disturbing that, by the way I eat, something that should be so simple as food, repast, sustenance, fuel, nourishment, has instead become a full-blown chemical addiction. And let's not even get into the emotional addiction part.

I love food. LOVE it. Love to grow it in my garden. Love to prepare it for my family and friends. Love to eat it. Here's hoping a little time away from it will help me put it in a much healthier context. Because it's true that you can love something so much that it hurts.

El DeBarge is coming! With Mary J. Bl- WTF??

Remember my post about El DeBarge? Of course you don't. But even so, this is still exciting and bizarre news: According to Denver Post's REVERB, he is coming to Denver! With Mary J. Blige! (I mean, duh, right? Those two: Like peas in a damn pod, I tell you.) El. De.Barge. C'mon, y'all. Don't even try to deny your excitement.

"When you feel like the world is on your shoulders
And all of the madness has got you goin' crazy..."

Oh my god. I can already feel the pleated pants and sequins against my skin.

CORRECTION: I didn't read REVERB's facebook post very well. El DeBarge will not be stopping off in Denver: "EL DEBARGE IS ON TOUR! With Mary J. Blige? Random. No Colorado date. [<----I read that as no Colorado date yet.] But still. EL DEBARGE."

First post of 2010!

Pitiful.

I just logged in to this blog to link to my little sister's new blog and saw what state the ol' RWS is in.

Pitiful.

For 2.5 seconds I felt okay about the fact that I haven't posted ONE TIME all year because I know I've been posting to my Tumblr. But then I looked at that real quick and it's been four months.

Pitiful.

Here are some random facts about RIGHT NOW, August 17th, 2010:

1. My grandpa has a tumor choking his liver. It's inoperable.
2. My godson swallowed a quarter "trying to clean it," and had to go to the ER. He lives!
3. My garden (which I absolutely LOVE growing) has approxiately 50 green tomatoes in it that absolutely refuse to turn red.
4. My favorite dancer won SYTYCD this season. That's never happened before.
5. My standards for "happy" are at an all-time low, I think.

That last one is a doozy and it just sort of came out. A Buddhist would read that and think, "Good for you!" but I don't actually mean it in a very Zen way at all.


Still. 2010 beats 2008 and 2009 all to hell so far!

I'll sign off with a photo of my grandpa proudly displaying a beautiful watermelon grown in his garden, which is eerily similar to my last post.