Blast from the past

Today started out as a relatively decent day. I found out that other people were just as concerned, if not more so, with the City's apparent disregard for the rule of law and concerns of its constituents, meaning after two days of me hemming and hawing and coming up with the world's best arguments about why this City needs serious help, I'm likely not going to have the chance (nor need to) voice my opinion tomorrow evening. So sad; I was hoping for big fireworks. But, I am glad that I can stop worrying and thinking of my awesome arguments. My aunt, a fellow attorney, gave me strong dose of reality. She essentially said that even if I think I have the greatest argument in the world, there's always going to be some jerk who doesn't care and just yells louder to get his way. And really, I'm not that self involved to think my arguments are far more logical or correct than anyone else's unless that person doesn't bother making any other argument than "you're being unreasonable." Translation: I am a lazy attorney who doesn't bother to even spell the name "HOA" or our HOA president correctly. How do you argue with a person like that? Evidently, as a tax paying constituent, you don't. Lovely. And, moving on...

In the midst of dealing with the HOA chaos, I got a phone call. I knew it was from someone not from around here since the area code was 303. And, I was glad because my ring tone works! $2.49 wasted for happiness when the phone rings. I think it's worth it. Anyhow, the phone call was from my Colombian "brother", Andres. He's now living in Akron with his wife and child (born the same day as Eli, how weird is that?). I attribute to Andres lots of things: giving my dad a son for one semester of his life, fun conversations at the dinner table about "gato mierda" (cat poop), bool fighting (bull) and momtains (mountains), teaching me how to salsa dance in the middle of the jungle while 6 shades to the wind (and his mom having to hold my hair as I threw up in said jungle) and showing me around Colombia even when being in Cali (yes, like the cartel) wasn't the safest place for a white woman.

In retrospect, I wish I was able to go to Colombia now (or even when I was more than one semester out of high school). I wish I had been more adventurous when I was there (though riding on the floor of the truck through Bogota and having to carry my passport everywhere we went in Cali lest I get kidnapped or shot were plenty adventurous at the time). It's fun to relive my misspent youth.

And how about that...I just wrote a whole post and didn't complain ONCE about my kids. I am so proud.