A Toast to Me!

In our family, we celebrate Christmas at the stoke of midnight — which means that Christmas Eve is full of family and friends waiting anxiously for the little hand and the big hand to meet at the number 12 on the clock.  This year I sat at the table enjoying dinner with my aunt, cousin, uncle and dad – while the rest of the family sat at the “long” table talking about God only knows what.

The topic at our table went from the infrequency of family visits to how the meat just fell off of the fork to the fact that my younger cousin doesn’t know much about wine because she does not have a sense of smell.

This got me thinking — if wine is 80% smell, then what process would she take on when learning about wines?  Admittedly, she didn’t know much, but was absolutely willing to learn.

I started by pouring her a small taste of wine – a 2001 LoMac Winery Zinfandel out of Fresno to be exact.  I explained to her that often times people just pour and drink – but that when it came to wine, we really should take a few moments to consider what it was that we were drinking and to appreciate it.  We looked at the color of the wine – a deep ruby with just a hint of brown in it.  I explained that the brown is indicative of older grapes.  Then we smelled.  Since she can’t really smell anything, I took in the aroma while she mimicked the motion.   Then we tasted.  At first she did what every other person does, just drank.  I explained to her that she take it just a little slower – let it sit on the palate, see what you taste.  I explained to her why she was salivating and then why her tongue felt dry.  At this point my aunt was intrigued so she asked for a glass and repeated the steps with us.

Being new to wine, my cousin, naturally, would  have to get used to the steps, but no doubt she  would be more aware next time a glass of wine was poured – even if she couldn’t smell a thing.

20% appreciate of wine is so much better than the 0% appreciation a lot of people give it.  I’m proud of her for keeping and open mind and realizing that wine doesn’t have to be difficult, but rather it can be a challenge with a unique reward.

Wine family, LoMac, Wine

Today is the day that my older brother an I are no longer the same age.  You see my older brother and I are 9 1/2 months apart, so for 2 1/2 months out of every year we are the same age.  When I was younger, this really bugged my brother.  I remember us going to the LA County fair and sitting for one of those calendar pictures, you know the ones where they snap your picture then print it on a canvas with a dot matrix printer?  Anyways, we’d sit there every year and the attendant would ask us how old we were.  The conversation usually went something like this:

Attendant:  “So, how old are you?”

Me: “siiiiiix”

Brother: “six”

Attendant: “Six, wow!  Are you twins?”

Brother:  “NO”

Me:  “yeeeees”

He hated that.  I, on the other hand, got a kick out of it .  The the picture would end up with me smiling and my brother cracking a slight grin.  The LA County Fair is in September, which was right after my birthday, so my brother would have to endure another 72 days of this torture until he was once again a year older than me.  This happened every year and every time I think of the Fair, I think of that exact moment.

Adrian, today you are released from your 72 days of twin-ship – and I wish you the best birthday ever.  When I think of how much  you endured of that torture, I love you more and more.  I really can’t think of anybody in this world who has a heart the size of yours.  You deserve greatness, you deserve ease, you deserve the best that life can bring to you (I mean, hey, life brought you me, so that’s a start! Lucky you ).  But seriously, I wish for ALL of your dreams and wishes to come true.

Happy Birthday Adrian!

General family

As I was looking through this morning’s paper, one section caught my attention so much that I even tweeted about it.  The tweet, and the section (paraphrased), simply stated:  ”Today is Wed., Nov 22nd, 322 day of the year.  There are 43 days left in 2009″.  My first reaction was wow, only 43 days left and I have a lot to do still.  I mean I’ve got emails to finish, thank you cards to send out, Christmas shopping to do, memberships to report, a plan of action to write for the SCV Jaycees, a plan of action to finish for the CA Jaycees, my own plan of action to review, a niece (Taelyn) to welcome into the world within the next week or so, start my new job, pack my belongings, move… and the list can go on and on.  I am the type of person that always looks forward – at the opportunity, at the possibility that life brings.  But in order to fully appreciate everything that is in store for these next 43 days, I’ve decided to take a step back and look at the last 322 days.

This year has been a particularly challenging one – so much more so than the last few.  I started the year working for a company I adore and then was there to unfortunately help close the doors 4 months later.   I started off this year with a place I could call home, and today I find myself dreading the packing process to move out.  I started off this year swearing that I would let an organization that I had lost a little faith become what it may, only to step in as President because the course of events reminded me of how much I truly care about the future of the California Junior Chamber.

This year I lost a couple of friends due to differences, but I made new ones.  I’ve maintained hope, albeit there were days that just seemed to look so dreary, and that hope eventually opened new doors.  I’ve looked to my family and friends more times than I would have liked to – but it was them that reminded me that good things are just over the horizon.

Today I find myself reflecting.  And, in the Spirit of Thanksgiving, which is a mere 8 days away, I find myself thankful for my family and my friends.  Thankful for the opportunities that have surfaced out of the challenges 2009 presented.  I find myself looking forward to the next chapter in my life and content in the knowledge that 2010 also offers new opportunities yet to be discovered.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Reflections family, reflection

Growing up, my parents were pretty strict on how my brothers and I should act at gatherings.  We also witnessed how my parents greeted and treated their guests when they entered the house.  Their was always (and still is) a jovial air, very light hearted, very welcoming, and very open.  There wasn’t any type of segregation like the adults table vs kids table.  You sat with whomever you wanted to sit, as long as you respected, then you were respected.  I believe that the key word that we were taught ultimately is “respect”.

Yesterday I attended a baby-shower.  The decorations were absolutely beautiful and appropriate (great job Lillian!).  And, “special” people were gifted with decorated name badges that said things like “Nonna” and “Grandma <insert name here>”.  There were also “Auntie” badges for friends close the family, and another specially decorated badge for the “Tia” (which would be the related Aunt).  I received an “Auntie” badge.

I was ok with the badge, up until I saw the “Tia” badge, and I became offended.  Why?  Well because this baby-shower was for my niece – the first little girl we will be welcoming to our family.  I am the only blood related aunt my niece will actually have — yet, I wasn’t placed in the “Tia” category, I had apparently been demoted to the “Auntie” category along with friends.  Seems petty I know, but, I guess I just don’t understand how I can consistently be dismissed with this particular side of the family.   Upon seeing the Tia name badge, I handed my “Auntie” badge over to my Aunt who had wanted one, but didn’t receive one.  I knew that she would appreciate it much more than I was at that time.

You may be reading this and thinking, gosh Claudia, get over it.  I, on the other hand, feel hurt.

Wine family

I’m one of those people that can watch a movie over and over again.  Not just any movie, mind you.  It has to be a “feel good” movie.  One that makes me smile.  One where I can follow along without having to actually watch the movie.  It’s a movie that can serve as a “go-to” when there’s nothing on TV, or when I just want to track time.  And, if it has music in it, all the better!

Right now I’m watching one of those movies as I catch up with some Jaycee work.  The choice — Mamma Mia!  I have to say that I LOVE this movie.  I love the musicality of it.  Listening to the music takes me back to a Christmas morning when I was a kid.  My family isn’t much into stocking stuffers, but this was the one and only year that my brother and I had a stocking full of knick-knacks.  In my stocking — a brand new 8-track tape of ABBA’s Greatest Hits!  Yes!    Ok, first off, yes I did say 8-track tape.  Secondly, it was ABBA!   I can’t tell you how many times I went around the house singing

Chiquitita, dime por que
tu dolor hoy te encadena
en tus ojos hay
una sombra de gran pena.

or

Mamma mia, here I go again
My my, how can I resist you?
Mamma mia, does it show again?

I would make my brother sing with me as well — he was such a good sport.  Truth be told, he’s a great sport to this day!  I remember that Christmas morning like it was yesterday and I must have been maybe 6-7 years old?

Like I said earlier, my family isn’t really into stocking stuffers.  But to this day I thank Santa for that one Christmas where ABBA appeared hanging on the chimney wall.  When i hear their music, I immediately “feel the beat from the tambourine”.  I immediately remember running over to my dad’s stereo and playing it over and over again.  I don’t know what ever happened to that tape, it was probably sold at some garage sale or other. And whereas I’ve always considered replacing it with a cassette tape, and then a CD, and now downloads on iTunes — I’ve never replaced it.  Today I have Mamma Mia on the television as background.  I may buy the movie, I should, but I don’t know if I will.  There’s something special about being taken back to your childhood at random — and it’s a beautiful feeling.

Reflections family, Memories

I was 3 years old when my parents bought this house. Some may claim that I was too young, but I swear I remember the day my parents brought my older brother and I to the house the first time.  There was a rainbow outside and when an adult (could have been mom, dad, abuela, abuelo?) took my brother and I by the hand and we crossed the street, I saw the rainbow frame our house.  I remember that day and it was a perfect day.

For the next 6 years my brother and I shared a room.  I’m not sure why, there are plenty of bedrooms for everyone, but we were fairly inseparable, so I guess sharing a room made sense.  When I was 9, I decided that I wanted my own room — this room.  My mom made me promise that if she bought me my own bedroom set, I could not call for her to come to the room in the middle of the night.  Deal.

We cleaned out what was to be my room and my Dad gave it a fresh coat of paint.  My furniture arrived and my bedroom was made up.  That night was the night that I would be sleeping alone — without my brother and without my mom.  When it came time for bed, I went to MY room and shut the door.  My mom came in and told me that since it still smelled like paint, it would be best if I slept with the door open.  OK I did, but the next night, I shut the door again.  I’ve slept with the door closed ever since.

Today I drove back home to hang with my parents for a couple of days.  There is no question as to where I’d sleep as I’ve always kept my room here… afterall, it’s MY room, my parents gave it to me. The house can be theirs, the room is mine.   This room has been with me my entire life.   I always know that it’s here for me when I need it, or when I don’t.  It’s seen me laugh, cry, yell, dance, sleep, stress, veg-out.  It’s where I feel better when I’m not feeling well and where I can relax after any event.  It’s made me feel safe when I’ve been scared and surrounds me with familiarity when I’m lost.  It’s a place where I am welcome, whether it’s for a day, a night, a week or years.   It has been my private sanctuary since I was 9 years old and it is now what it was then –the safest place on earth for me.

Reflections Dad, family, mom

Sept 2007 at my brother's wedding

In 2001, my dad had a mild heart attack.  It happened 3 days after I placed him on a plane back to California from Texas – he and my older brother came out to help me move into my new house that weekend.  I’ll never forget the phone call my brother made to me.  It was about 2:00 am CST.  My dad dropped my mom at the airport the evening before so she could help me get settled into my house.  The phone rings, I answer and the first words my brother says is… “don’t tell mom I’m calling”.  I tell him, “hey, what’s wrong?”  “it’s dad, he kinda had a heart attack, but don’t tell mom because we don’t want her to worry”.  Mid-sentence, of course, my mom was already in my room saying “what happened?”.  I wasn’t even sure that she had heard the phone ring, but she did.  Later she confessed that she couldn’t sleep because she felt that something was wrong.

I wasn’t able to come home that weekend and to this day I wonder what would have happened if things had gone differently.  My dad, thank our Heavenly Father above, is healthy now.  But it’s interesting because after every disagreement I have with my dad, I immediately think of how I could have lost him that night.

Why am I thinking of this now?  I don’t know to be honest.  I think it’s because I’m going home tomorrow to hang with my parents (and report to jury duty the next day) and I want to brainstorm with him a couple of ideas on what I could do to isolate a portion of the balcony for Corky.

The irony of all of this is that my father and I have butted heads my entire life.  My mom claims that we are “like looking at each other in a mirror” or that we are so alike, we’re like “two parts of same magnet trying to reconnect, but instead we repel.”  One may look at this as negative things — however I feel blessed because although not perfect, I love that he has given me his strength, his creativity, his wit, his innovation, his determination and his stubbornness.  He is the only person in the world that I know who can see something through to completion, regardless of the obstacles along the way.  We may not always agree, and yes there will be more arguments, but together we find a way and we get things done.  Writing this now, I can’t bear to think what life would be like without my dad.

I love you Papi!

Reflections Dad, Daughter, family

My mom has been battling with her teeth lately and being the good pains in the tushes that we are, we have asked her to please go see a dentist! So for the last few weeks, she’s been researching dentists. She’s even gone to see a few of them to obtain estimates. Needless to say, she wasn’t happy with any of them. But, at the recommendation of a friend, she finally settled on one.

I know how difficult it is to get in on a Saturday, but apparently my mother managed to score a Sunday morning appointment. We wake up early, print out the directions and head out to his office — about a 35 minute drive. There are dentist offices everywhere, and we notice a man in a white coat waiting outside one of the offices; this must be the place!

After the introductions, my mother diligently explains everything that the other dentists have said and done in effort to remedy her situation. She pulls out her file and shows him the X-Rays. I’m in awe. When did my mom learn so much about teeth? The dentist explains that they’ll be going into the office to get started. I decide to take Corky on a quick walk.

When we come back, we try every door. They’re locked. Hmmmm… where could they have gone? I hear the door of a motor home open behind me and I hear a man say — did you want to come in and sit down? As I slowly begin to turn around, I say — “oh no, we’re fine. Thank you.” Wait, is that the dentist? In a motor home? Is my mom in there? She is! What? OK, I think my mom has flipped her lid. She’s been fighting us on having her teeth pulled for months now. She’s interviewed at least 3 dentists — IN ACTUAL OFFICES — and she decides to have the procedure done in a motor home? Seriously?

About half hour later, my mom walks out, gauze in mouth with the dentist following. She gets into the car and we leave. I say nothing – UNTIL we turn the corner that is! “Mom, A MOTOR HOME?” “Really?” She starts to laugh. She says that it’s not what she expected either, but that apparently he’s got the whole set up in there — complete with lights and a dentist chair — oh and the air conditioning set to a very comfortable level. Well that’s nice I tell her… but um, a motor home? What, the other dentists with actual buildings around their dentist chairs weren’t good enough?

Needless to say we laughed the entire drive home. She said that once her gums heal, she’ll need to see him again to get her new teeth fitted. Maybe next time he could just drive his office to us?

Points, Random, Red, White family, mom

Wine:

Fermented grape juice + Romance

My Abuelo (grandfather) was an avid wine drinker… so much so that my Abuela (grandmother) would fill the carafe with 1/2 water, 1/2 wine. I don’t know if my Abuelo knew that my Abuela did this. But if he did, he’d probably appreciate the fact that she had learned how to turn water into wine, just for him.

I was introduced to the beauty of wine when I found myself surrounded by thousands of bottles at work. The shape of the bottles differed, their weight differed, their colors, their aroma, their taste, their little nuisances, their history – once I thought about it all, I was hooked. Here I was presented with something that I grew up with, and yet I realized that it was so much more. Each wine has a process and a purpose. A life story. It has the ability to set the tone for an evening, or to take on the characteristics of it. All this power from a tiny little grape and a person with the passion to create magic with it — to turn it into this elixir that has the ability to create memories, or evoke them.

For me, a bottle of wine presents an opportunity of discovery, of self-evaluation. A moment to stop and smell the “roses” – or in my case, the “fruit”. A moment of silence. A moment to live in the present and savor it.

I don’t know why exactly my Abuelo drank wine — whether it was to experience or to escape; But I do know that my Abuelo expressed an appreciation for that tiny little fruit that provided him the serenity to sit at the dinner table for hours with a smile on his face as he watched his grandchildren grow up.

Wine family, Wine