Thinking in Spanglish

It occurs to me, as I sit here sipping hot café, that my blog lacks an accent. Until now, I haven't written one word in español. Now there are two. Some will argue that café is etymologically not a Spanish word. They're right. But it gives my blog sazón, spice, accent.

Henceforth, it won't be just about me: although these will be my thoughts, my views, my opinions. I shall keep my readers, public, and fellow bloggers in mind. With that in mind, hasta cuándo, Fidel, hasta cuándo? Ya no aguanto más!

Excuse my sudden outburst. I am, after all, Latin.

As for my review of McD's in Pacific Grove, California...you see one, you've seen them all, give or take. This one will be memorable because it was here that I sat down, sipped a hot café, and rediscovered my accent.

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Location:Pacific Grove - McD's

Yogy teaches me about life

When I'm eating he sits next to me and places his little head on my lap to remind me that there's always someone less fortunate, someone hungrier than I am, and that it's good to share.

When I'm feeling lazy he plops down on the couch right next to me to remind me that it's good to relax, take a nap, and recharge.

When I'm bored and complaining that there's nothing to do, I see how he keeps himself entertained with the first thing he finds, reminding me that there's always something to do --you really don't have to look too hard.

When my self worth is low, when I find myself worrying because I don't want to disappoint others, I see him staring at himself in the mirror, reminding me that I am important to me, that I should do what's right for me so that I won't disappoint myself.

When he's cold he burrows himself under the blankets; when he gets hot he comes out from underneath the blankets for fresh air, reminding me that I am in control of my life. I direct the course that my life will take. When I'm uncomfortable with a situation, I can change it.

Thanks, Yogy.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone