A Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm!

"Ll" is for This One Ranchera Song

I have been racking my brain as to how to deliver a short, lazy entry for a letter for which most of my audience has no context.

Enter YouTube.

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Mariachis are bands.
They sing songs-- there are no mariachi songs, per se.  But there are Rancheras, or Ranch songs.

And one of the most famous ones happens to be called "El Rey", or "The King", by a famous Mexican singer-songwriter called José Alfredo Jimenez.

Its lyrics are a first-person rant to an unnamed and cruel-sounding woman --as most tend to be in these songs.   The man may die soon; this could be because he's about to die or duel or perhaps drink himself to oblivion.  Or maybe he's just not going to die at all, but he's a mean drunk.

The beginning lyrics of the song --which tend to be sung by many a drunken person south of the Rio Grande, as they may be too drunk to get to the second verse-- go like this (translation mine):

Yo se bien que estoy afuera                     I know I'm on the outside   
Pero el dia que yo me muera                   But on the day I die
Sé que tendrás que llorar                        I know you will cry

¡Llorar y llorar! ¡Llorar y llorar!  Cry and cry!  Cry and cry!

Dirás que no me quisiste                       You'll say you never loved me            
Pero vas a estar muy triste                    But sadness will overcome you
Y así te vas a quedar.                             And will stay with you always.

Harsh huh?

Anyway, when I was thinking of what to write for the letter Ll ("eh-yay", sort of), all I could really think of was the back-up singers wailing with gusto, and all the drunks of the world howling along with them.

And so, Ll is really for those sad, crying drunks out there, singing and drinking themselves to oblivion and complaining that the world cannot change for them: thank you for the laughs, but please get some help.

And because you want to hear the singers wailing (and the song's author mugging it up):

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Do you have a problem with alcohol?  Answer these questions. They can help.

"Ch" is for the Best Superhero Ever

Although in a way both the Ch and the Ll in Spanish have been demoted as full letters and their words are featured in the dictionary mixed in with the C and L listings respectively, I of course will honor them here.

There was something satisfying about reciting the alphabet with those three extra mouthfuls for me, and it's a little sad to see that dictionaries are doing away with giving these two letters their own sections.

But anyway-- this post is not about letter demotion, but it is about the letter Ch (Tchay for those of you who may be wondering).  And specifically, it is about El Chapulín Colorado.

(And El Chavo del Ocho.  And Dr. Chapatín.  And my original alter ego, La Chilindrina.  But they may come back for another post)

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There are some things that I wish Herr Meow can get to experience from the Spanish language and culture before he thinks it's all stinky and boring and cannot be bothered.

And then there is El Chapulín Colorado, chief and paramount amongst them.

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If you're itching to know what on earth I'm talking about, get thee to a Wikipedia article about him, or to an English-language fansite devoted to him.

If you cannot be bothered to click links (you bad person, you), you should know several things:

• I'm talking about a Mexican TV show,
• Which is about an incredibly clumsy and easily-frightened superhero,
• Whose name means "The Red Grasshopper", kind of a Spanish-language Green Hornet (or possibly, the Green Lantern, whose genesis story is similar to Chapulín's),
• Whose shield is a heart,
• Who is "more agile than a turtle and stronger than a mouse,"
• Whose "Antenitas de Vinil" (vinyl antennae) detect the enemy's presence,
• Who saves the day despite his lack of physical strength, wit, etc.,
• And  who has delightfully ridiculous secret weapons such as his Chipote Chillon (the " Squeaky Mallet"), his Chicharra Paralizadora (the "Paralyzing Horn") and his "Pastillas de Chiquitolina" ("IttyBittyfication" Pills)
• But whose good heart and true heroism came through in the end, facing the problems head-on and saving the day.

When I was very little, I would go around saying El Chapulín's main catchphrase, which went like this:

Person in distress: ¡Oh!  Y ahora, ¿quién podrá ayudarme?
Chapulín: ¡YO!  El Chapulín Colorado!

I'm pretty sure there is even a tape of me repeating it.  I wish I knew where it is.
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People usually rejoiced when Chapulín first appeared, only to shortly be put off by his milquetoast manner or sheer clumsiness.  They would interrupt him and ridicule him and his attempts to assess the situation.

They would clamor for a better superhero.  They would roll their eyes.  They would put him down some.

But then Chapulín would do something.
And somehow that doing, that action, would get the ball rolling.  Chapulín, through perseverance and a little elbow grease --along with one of his secret weapons-- would get the job done.

And sometimes he'd even get a kiss from the girl.
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I guess part of the reason why Chapulín is such a beloved figure (specifically in Latin America, but in other places as well) is because he is an Everyman.  He has to get things done with little more than his valor and his wits --and a few makeshift toys here and there-- but he has to put up with failure and rejection in his face, like many of us do.

But in the end, he can always be counted on.  In the end, he comes through for even the most obnoxious and insulting victim.  And that is life, everyday: having to do what you must even if you're stuck with a bunch of thankless people who put you down along the way.
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And of course, he was funny.

¡Que viva el Chapulín!

"Å" is for Ångstrom (and Cuteness)

Bet you're wondering if I'm stumped for my letters theme for April 27 through 30th.

I mean, the alphabet ended yesterday-- at least the English alphabet did, what with its shiny 26 letters that can be pronounced a million different ways-- so what is there left to do, right?

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For starters, there are the two (or maybe three) letters in the Spanish alphabet's tally: Ll, Ñ and possibly Ch, but not really.  Those are coming-- fret not.

Then there are all the letters with hats (my preferred way of thinking of the circumflex accent); with grave and acute accents; with darling little umlauts that look like two tiny cherries; with a suave and spiffy little cedilla tail.  And if we get into, say, the Cyrillic alphabet or any other language that doesn't use most or any of the Latinate characters you're reading here, the possibilities are endless.

But my favorite has always been the A with a loop on top: Å

Isn't it cute?  Well, I like it anyway.  It's actually another way of writing out the letter "Aa" in Danish and Norwegian.  You can go over and read it all on Wikipedia, and tell 'em I sent ya.  Or not.

I also like thinking that other people take this letter for granted-- they see it and it has meaning for them other than an Ångstrom --which, incidentally is a unit of measurement used to qualify atoms or possibly very short people-- and that maybe some six-year old in Norway holds it as her favorite letter and writes it in bubble writing and spangles it with glitter, pasting it all over her room.

So, here we are: one more letter down.

And you thought I was only a 26-trick pony.

"Z" is for Zephyr

Sometimes we need to be told we belong; or that we're good enough; or that we're loved, liked, accepted.

Sometimes all we need is a nice change of pace.

Sometimes we crave a little wind beneath our sails-- a change in the wind.

An excuse to let our hair down or do something unladylike or unadultlike.

I'd like to believe that when the western wind blows, it doesn't just bring cold fronts or crappy weather.   I would love to firmly believe that a Zephyr --a gentle Western wind-- can blow into our lives and dry up the mire and blow away the dust.

Sometimes all we need is a gentle and loving wind to whisk us away.

"Y" is for YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

One of the hallmarks of motherhood is the fact that it gets tricky.  And not even when you would expect it --crying babies and sick babies and projectile vomiting notwithstanding-- but when you don't.

And here is one of those moments.

Today, Herr Meow has gone ONE ENTIRE DAY wearing nothing but his really cute lizard chones under his clothes.

Ahem.  Let me be a little more obnoxious here:

HE'S ALMOST TOTALLY POTTY-TRAINED!!!!!!

This is where I would do the obligatory-for-a-football-player-but-definitely-verboten-in-the-mother-world endzone victory dance.

Since I am not about to do it, I will let a football player do some interpretive dancing for me:

Yup.  I realize that all this celebrating might mean that tomorrow the rivers will run yellow for me, all over my new sandals.

But didn't it feel just a little good, y'all?

Thank you for celebrating with me!

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Oh, and hey!  Go to Zen Sarcasm Reviews and check out a very cool contest that can win you a trip to the London première of Mamma Mia, k?

Have a happy weekend!

"X" is for Xeriscaping

You know what annoys me?

The fact that in every child's ABCs book, no one can figure out something truly clever or educational for the letter X.  True, xylophones are quite lovely and sound nice; and X-rays are also pretty cool, but when was the last time you spent any significant amount of time explaining to your toddler the utter badassness of Wilhelm Roentgen; and how when you first saw his first "serious" X-ray of his wife's hand with the ring you thought it was right up there in the romance scale at a solid 9; or just how cool and amazing and useful his discovery was? 

Yeah, me neither, really.  Once you start talking particle physics with the little tots they start arguing so much about the practical applications of particles versus waves that it just gets frustrating.

They grow up so fast.

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And so since the current push is green this and green that and moreover green everything, I think it's time to start using a new word for kids' alphabet mnemonics.

That word is XERISCAPING, kids-- landscaping with drought-resistant plants.  (I'll even settle for just xeriscape.)

Because not only is it important, but it could save you money and it's really beautiful.  And really, why declare that you have a black thumb --even though, and do confess, you are just a lazybones who's not that into plants and don't care to water and pinch and prune because we were not all born with an interest in gardening in the first place--when you could just plant lots of lavender and catci and (some) grasses  and call it a day anyway?

Seriously-- every area where we live has a microclimate all its own, and some of those areas get nothing but dry heat all day-- or just dry cold in winter.  Read up and see if you can make xeriscaping work for you, wherever you are.

And then chant the alphabet and remember that the letter X is more than just lovely wooden instruments and discoveries by awesome Prussian physicists.

It also stands for the future of gardening in the DC Metro area if it doesn't rain soon again.

"W" is for Well

Right now there is not much going on.   
But there is the warm evening glow of the sun,
soon to be asleep for another day.

Right now there is not much going on.
But there are the little daddy fireflies
handing out cigars in the little firefly nursery.

Right now there is not much going on.
But the dishwasher hums efficiently along
licking the plates clean with gusto.

Right now there is much going on:
Happy sounds and memories ebb and flow
And right now, the tide is high.

"V" is for Vintage

You know what's a funny word?

Vintage.
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I mean, vintage these days means anything.  Once it meant something to do with grapes (Vitis vinifera) and then with the yield of grapes and with the wine that comes from the grapes.  Later it also became associated with the year the wine the grapes yielded was.  And then it was the group of people born in the year the wine the grapes yielded was.

And so on.

But now it's even extended to that one year, long ago, where the furniture was perhaps cuter or maybe not necessarily.   And the wine and the grapes and the people are gone.

But what's left is the faux finishes and the chain distressing and the tattered lace and the faded cloth and the absurd price. 

Certainly the shame was left out. 

I dare you to go to your local Craigslist and type in anything + "vintage" and see just how much crap you get in return.  And the items that are actually worth half a crap are monstrously expensive if they feature that poor little vandalized word.

Well?  Go on!  Go to your Craigslist and see.  But if you find something supercute or outrageous, don't keep it all to yourself, okay?

"U" is for Umbrellaless

Today I've had an all-out gardenfest, and it's been great.

I missed spring and my garden and the ability to just watch my own things grow.  I drove Monsieur Meow insane pointing out the wild wisterias abloom all across I-95 and the wildflowers on the side of the road in North and South Carolina and the dogwoods and the redbuds and all the fun things that were blooming earlier and earlier as we moved south.  And later as we moved back up north, I kept track of all the things that were blooming in the more southern latitudes but not yet up north.

Having grown up in a place where it's pretty much always some sort of spring/autumn combination, I realized that tropical plants scare me.  Apart from palms and a few bromeliad-looking things, I am psychologically unequipped to handle things like Angel's Trumpets and Bougainvillea.

Which is why I felt a little bit of relief realizing that Floridians like to plant less exotic things such as Impatiens and grass-- lots of it.

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So yes.  I know the weather here in DC has been really quite crappy; however, it's the perfect weather for playing with my own brand of tiny mudcakes and for transplanting and repotting plants.  So today I've transplanted some basil and catmint and planted Nasturtiums and trained peas and sweet peas and a Clematis and killed aphids and sowed a few seeds and cleaned up and oh!  The garden life is for me.

All this was done in the rain and umbrellaless, and honestly, there is no better feeling than to tend to your own little green babies under a spring rain.

Happy Earth Day tomorrow-- how are you planning on celebrating?

"T" is for Thunderstorm!

AACK!  RAIN!
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As pretty and refreshing as rain is, there are few things as scary as having to share the highway with 10,000 of your closest motorist friends under a really thick downpour that coats the windshield with water so thickly you swear you cannot see past the end of the hood, if that.

Especially when those motorists think that driving at 55-60 miles per hour is a total grandma speed.

And especially when about 50% of those Speedy Gonzalez-type motorists happen to be very large 18-wheelers, whose eighteen wheels are busy splashing all kinds of water in your general direction.

And when the other motorists like to leave their lights off, leaving you to guess their location by cussword-laden pings.

I'm glad to be home and hearing the distant  and not-so-distant thunderclaps from my own comfy house.

More later.