workin' girl...

she finally found somethin' that will be sure to impress during her upcoming interview(s)...a Calvin Tran that can be worn 8 different ways....she can even do the dishes....she's a workin' girl...

wha?

so, one cold winter's day, lady uffish decided to knit me a-somethin' beautiful....doesn't it look so *hot* on my friend's baby?

way back when...

branner school
Long, long ago when my mother worked for the evil, evil Catholic Church, I would go to visit her two or three times a week, passing by this building and thinking that it looked so majestic, beautiful and haunted...all at the same time. One day on my way to visit ma, my father noted to me that the majestic red building was once a schoolhouse for the local children--the kids that lived on the "other" side of the railroad tracks. At that time, all I knew was that my grandma grew up in a lil' ol' house about a block away, separated from the rest of the city by the Santa Fe Railyards. Each time I'd pass the red building I'd beg for more information, as any inquiring child would, getting bits and pieces of history about the family, such as how they had emigrated from Mexico, what their lives were like before leaving Mexico, and what choices were made in order to "integrate" into the (North) American (Dream) Culture.

It wasn't until Junior High that I was able to put 2 + 2 together, and realize just how much of a struggle my great-grandparents, grandparents (and father, for that matter) endured in order to live that American Dream. One day I asked my grandma if she had ever dealt with racism when she was growing up--what she told me was almost a shock, even though I had read about such things in school... Her stories were always mixed with a sense of pride such as the time when she and my grandfather had gone out on their first date, and being confronted at the restaurant my grandfather had picked out, being told that "people like them" couldn't sit in the restaurant and that any items ordered would have to be placed in a brown paper bag and taken away. My grandfather being the feisty person I remember, calmly ordered his and my grandma's dinner, and when the brown paper bag arrived, my grandfather took the bag, threw it in the waiter's face (exclaiming certain expletives I'm sure) and let it be known how wrong it was to be treated in such a manner. You see, my grandfather was a very light-skinned Mexican with his beautiful green eyes and light brown hair, while my grandmother was a dark-skinned lady, a beautiful brown color that she secretly tried to hide as a girl with white pancake makeup--such things people like her did at that time to "pass". So, while my grandfather never really had to endure treatment such as the restaurant experience, my grandmother did.

Subsequent stories told to me by my family revolved around having to sit in the balcony at the local movie theater, having a seperate Prom for all the non-white teens, and having to attend different schools--this was all before Brown v. BOE. So, that big ol' red schoolhouse that I thought was so majestic is even more majestic to me now. When I was home last weekend, my mother and I decided to take a lil' drive around my hometown, passing by the big, red building, and I couldn't help but get upset when I thought of how fucked up society can be to certain classes and groups of people. Funny thing is, two days after that, people of the state voted to amend the state constitution in order to ban same-sex marriage....but that's a whole other story....

springtime in ks

I'm too dahled up on nyquil to even write about my recent trip to the land of Oz (ahhhhshit)....but I'll leave you with one pretty picture from the ranch....