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A Hyphenated-American,

or in this case Mexican-American

is one who carries a little stash of salsa in her backpack,

ready to add culture and make every situation flavorful and spicy.


Latest From The Blog

A Kiss For Apa

I was having a conversation with someone just yesterday about her relationship with her mother and well, she sadly described her mother as manipulative. Pero esperate! As a mother, quickly I defended my fellow mother and said, “she just doesn’t want you to move and is glad for the extra time she’ll have with you, she’s gonna find the change difficult” Pero, the quick response was “No. She knows how to manipulate me and get…

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The Counter Talk

Lately my family has been joking about having a podcast called “Counter Talk” In honor or our conversations around the kitchen counter. In our house, at the kitchen counter besides the food that gets put out for a gathering, there en el mostrador issues get pulled out, hashed out, dissected and either thrown out or left for another session. Nowadays it’s called “unpacking” with the good intention of calmly discussing a matter. Pero at the…

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Wedding Day Details

Just 30 days left of Wedding plan for my son and his girl. Just 30 days for his sister, the unofficial and untitled wedding planner to fuel their wedding day dream, with untried creativity. Thirty more days for the rest of us to help or meddle. Pero, la verdad es que all the detallitos, those little embellishments confound me. I mean, how critical is it that the utensils be ensembled a particular way?  I am…

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Ama Heard Me Crying

I was having a quiet moment with my daughter, por supuesto que we were talking about very important matters, when her ears perked up, I could see in her face that she was making a calculation about something in her head. Then as I heard my grandbaby crying, her youngest son who’s not so baby, she put her attention back to our conversation. I had already put on my “Ama al rescate” cape. I was…

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If I Could Send a Text To Heaven

The Heavy Weight of Loss Ya se, ya se. Here I am in beautiful San Diego smack dab in the middle of the summer, beautiful city, perfect weather y aun asi my heart is heavy with loss. Circumstances of my life have propelled me into a feeling of swimming for survival. Que dramatic verdad? My ama, oh how I wish we could talk. I would pick her brain about her marriage and motherhood and grandmotherhood.…

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Coming to America – Fernando’s Story

In this post I’m going to introduce you to el “Chapparo,” my third older brother. His name is Fernando but my apa called him Chaparro, for you non Spanglishers this means a shorty, sorry Fernando I had to clarify. Of course Fernando did not put on that nickname, it was exclusive for my apa and ama. In high school he was dubbed  “Zap”  by one of his teachers. I believe it was a derivative from…

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My Independence Day

Happy Independence Day! And how many people walk in true liberty? Porque pues, there are many people in the world practicing their freedom with no kind of limits. Here I was in beautiful San Diego, fresh out of H.S. with an extra layer of sun on my skin from working in the grapevines of Coachella Valley, the American Dream at my finger tips. I teetered on the onset of adulthood with no parent rules, setting…

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A Pro Life Victory

Fighting For Life June 24, 2022 was a good day in the fight for life. It reminded me of the ancient days of bible history, when queen Esther’s People won an opportunity to fight for their lives. Deveras,  I mean the law wasn’t overturned, the Jews were still very much in danger pero at least, a new edict made provision for them to defend themselves. Hijole! That alone was a great victory, I recommend you…

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Reviews:

Reviews

  • Reading and editing these posts has given me a glimpse, my own little window, into my Grandparents kitchen. I never had the joy and the privilege of getting to know my Abuela Chuy, but now I’ve experienced sitting at her table enjoying a cafecito and a galletita. I’ve been to my mother’s small town many times but now I’ve run and played with her beyond the train tracks in the empty dirt lot. It’s an honor to know that the old park my cousins and I have played at in Calipatria, was built there in part by my Tata’s influence. Maybe it’s a daughter’s rose colored glasses, but I am captivated and transported to that little neighborhood in the barrio on the Eastside.

    Daniella (Rosie’s daughter/ Editor of this blog)

  • Love reading these blogs, so much history!
    Every story I feel like I’m there living it 😆

    Sierra