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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

I am a Writer

I probably spent way too much time just trying to come up with a catchy title for this post. Hijole!  This post feels like a desperate plea to get approval or accreditation. Who is gonna give me that final stamp of approval? If this feels like an explanation as to why I’m even here, it is. I need to remember, quizás mi propia voz, my own loud voice needs to tell me to get to…

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A Wedding Day Miracle

Todo el mundo is wanting to know about my little nietas hemangioma story. Miren, I had much interest in the Sippy Cup post so I’m going to share more of Rachels experience, because it was definitely un besito de Dios, for my daughter in-law Denise also. Rachel’s Birth Rachel was born a few days before her due date, she weighed in at just over 6lbs. and 19 inches long. All was well when she went…

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Mi Spanglish Dictionary

Someone, suggested that I create a Spanish/Spanglish glossary for my readers, especially as I’m putting in order my writing and organizing my dad’s stories. I consulted with my editor and tech team, also known as my daughter Daniella about this and we agreed that  it made sense. Although I write as if everyone will understand me, the suggestion reminded me that not everyone speaks or reads spanish or spanglish. Some posts will have more spanish…

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I Want to Publish My Dads Stories

I have shared my dream and hope to write and publish a collection of my fathers stories. My sister and I began our caregiving for dad more than 15 years ago, it was quite a journey that ended just last December. I now have a decade and a half of experiences tucked into my journal, where I tend to process everything. A journal is a very inexpensive therapist and a patient listener.  As I moved…

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Holding on to My Dad’s Prayer

These past few weeks have been trying times. Sickness hovers over our lives trying to scare us into a corner of not living but existing. Hard times and bad news, make us desperate por tener un momento de tranquilidad. As we hold our breath not knowing what to expect, tears wash out and my heart aches for those loved ones I will not see again until eternity. Not knowing the appointed time, the wait feels…

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The Sippy Cup

Nosotros los abuelos, have some experience with raising children. Ben and I raised four and we all survived. Now we are watching our children raise their own y sabes? I worry and wonder if they’ll survive. Our kids are busy people, quizás más que nosotros! I mean, we only had to juggle our marriage, our business, homemaking, homeschooling, ministry, friendships and extended family. But Ben and I had a few years between our kids, this…

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Life Lessons While Raising Boys

A Strong Latina Woman My boys always tease me and my sister Marina about being tough, strong latina ladies and maybe we are. I mean, I have shared with them stories of growing up and how my big sisters and myself had to face, “the giant”.  Dicen que, we are always ready to “throw down” to defend our home, kids, each other and our rights. There is some truth to their playful bantering. They love…

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Two Days With Ama

Checking my Calendar My cell buzzed on Monday evening, Nevaeh my nieta was calling me, she’s right between Maricella and Rachel. She was the self appointed spokesman for this plan my three granddaughters concocted.   Me: Hello Neveah: Hi D’ma, we were wondering, now that we’re on summer break and all the testing is done, we thought that maybe me and my sisters could spend 2 days and nights with you. …..silence…..as I mentally reviewed my…

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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