I have heard this, although not as beautifully as in this poem, so many times that I would probably be quite wealthy if I had a penny for each time a woman complain to me about the reason for them being tired. No, I’m not a counselor nor a therapist; it’s just that I have this face that strangers open up their hearts to me without hesitation. And I am a good listener and I consider myself a good friend so friends and acquaintances also come to me for counseling or just to vent. Is this behavior a woman thing? Definitely not, but men do not open so easily to women unless they are also very close friends. Have I said it myself? Yes! So many times that once when I started my sentence, “I am sick…” and my children in unison said “and tired.” Yes, I always started my complaining like that.

The things we can learn from our children! That day I learned that I was a complainer and my family had gotten used to it. Most likely, they didn’t pay attention to what I was saying anymore. If they stopped listening, there was no learning involved. I started to examine my behavior and how it was affecting my family, especially the children, the children always came first. I reflected on one of my favorite beliefs of Vulcan philosophy (I’m a Star Trek fan.): the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one in this case. Then I started to think about my feelings. Was I sick and tired of everything that was going on in my life at that time? Again, the answer was YES. Could I change it? Of course, any woman can. Would I? That question was not an easy one to answer.

Perhaps my family was as tired of my “manic compulsive behavior”–as my son Alex diagnosed it–as I was of theirs. Probably my husband tolerated me out of loyalty and because he was a good father and would not leave his children with this sick and tired woman. I had a great husband (still is) and great children (still are). Therefore, I concluded that any behavior changing had to start with me. I knew that Alex’s diagnosis regarding my emotional state was wrong, but I also knew that I had bouts of depression since I was a little girl. I did what I had to do, went back to psychological therapy and also bought myself a pair of rose color glasses. I should tell you that these were the 1970′s when both were popular.

Another thing I did was a career change. I went back to college to my first love, literature. From banking to reading and writing…how much better can my life be? Do I still complain? Of course, but a lot less and I think I haven’t used the sick and tired expression since the 1980′s. Hey, old habits are hard to break! Today I focuss less on production which was what I learned in the banking world and instead I look at the process of doing and creating, which is what the arts have taught me. I am so much happier! Could I be happier than this? Of course, when I publish my book.

Rainy days can be depressing for some, but I enjoy watching this small waterfall from my porch.

De distintas partes vienen
a este taller de escritura
a estudiar literatura
voces que canción ya tienen
y sonearla al mundo quieren.
Han encontrado una mina
que cada cual examina
de acuerdo a su inspiración
para lograr la misión
del barco de tinta china.

Hay varias generaciones
representadas en clase
que disfrutan el enlace
de diferentes canciones
con variantes de fusiones.
Y, como orquesta divina
que el destino determina,
con su instinto de crear
empujan hacia alta mar
al barco de tinta china.

Con Amílcar al comando
y con muchísimo ahínco
de las cien por treinta y cinco
han venido navegando,
y muchas más manejando,
un grupo de estirpe fina
que con sus voces afina
la voz de la inspiración
para dar navegación
al barco de tinta china.

Ya el faro se ve brillando
allá por la lejanía.
La tripulación veía
sus ideas formas tomando
con sus voces van cantando
la canción que vaticina
que ya se va la neblina
que cubre la inspiración
completando la misión
del barco de tinta china.

Mud slide blocking my way home.

http://lilly1949.wordpress.com

Mucho tiempo que pasé
cogiendo frío allá afuera
y, aunque movida certera,
mi corazon destrocé
porque siempre yo soñé
con regresar a mi nido
para vivir con sentido
lo que queda de mi vida
al sentirme bienvenida,
a Castañer he venido.

Un arco iris brillando
una mañana de estío
fue el augurio que con brío
me empujó a salir andando.
y su tesoro buscando
con esfuerzo desmedido
subiendo montes he ido
hasta llegar a la cima
y para encontrar mi rima
a Castañer he venido.

Y he encontrado inspiración
en este hermoso recinto
de varios pueblos precinto
y de las musas, bastión.
Y sin más acotación
de cómo mi viaje ha sido
les cuento que he conseguido
mi voz en rima Espinela
y con la antigua vihuela
a Castañer he venido.

My guests ended up being guinea pigs in my cooking adventures.  Sometimes it was a matter of adding a new spice to an old dish, but sometimes I went all out trying all New York had to offer in terms of food.  One at a time of course.  I have to admit that once I made a Polish casserole and we ended up calling for pizza.  But I’ll never forget the time I found rabbits on sale at the supermarket.  I bought four and cut them up as soon as I got home and placed them in the freezer.  When Friday came, I had my meat all cut up and proceeded to start dinner. Rabbit en fricassee is a typical dish in Puerto Rico, although chicken if most often used because it is more available and inexpensive.

The ingredients are nothing fancy: garlic, onions, peppers, cumin and black pepper. I always add oregano because I love the aroma.  Some potatoes halved and wine and beer.  I do not use cooking wine. I use whatever I have opened at the time.  Same with beer.  I had some dark beer and that is what I used.  No water is added to this dish.  Made some white rice and a simple salad of Boston lettuce, tomatoes and cilantro.  The vinaigrette was made with olive oil and wine to which I added some dried pepper flakes and black pepper and a minced garlic clove.  I served dinner and opened a new bottle of a blonde Albarin~o wine.  Can’t remember the label.

Everyone enjoyed the food and wine and I should add that my husband and I are pretty good at conversation.  Why am I writing about this today?  Well, it’s Friday and I decided that I wasn’t going to cook.  You have to consider several things:  we do not live in New York City any longer.  So not cooking means no elaborate dinner plans, but something has to be prepared.  I decided to make fast food, Puerto Rican style.  ”Empanadillas fritas.”  It is something like Jamaican patties, except that they are fried.  I looked for some thing to stuff them with.  Aha, I found some peppered jack cheese and also some Manchego and hot dogs.  Dinner was ready in a jiffy and we accompanied it with a blonde Albarin~o.

The wine brought back the memories of the rabbit fricassee.  By the way, when my guests left they praised my cooking one last time mentioning that they had never had chicken cooked without water.  You should have seen their faces when I told them that it was not chicken but rabbit what they had eaten!