But It’s The Way He Says My Name

by Alexandra

bee mineeAs a woman from a long line of people with accents — accents to you, not to me — I have always been at a loss as to why American women’s knees turn to jelly at the sound of a Spanish accent. My sisters are with me on this.

Men are just men. In my case, the men in my Colombian family are brown skinned, long sooty eye lashed, dark haired, and come with the ability, apparently, to make women from the USA tremble just by saying their name. Cynthia trills out of their mouths as Eseentya, Judy is breathed out Hoodeet, Ann becomes the hypnotizing Ahna.

You poor things don’t stand a chance, do you? [Read more...]

Memoirs of My America – The Art of Oomancy

oomancyIf you were to walk into my childhood home on New Year’s Day, you’d find a dining room table covered in tall, clear glasses that had been filled to the rim with tap water and that held a globulous raw egg at the bottom.  The water would grow bubbly as the day went on and there would be strings of congealed egg white floating upwards to the top. I remember thinking how much those gelatinous peaks of egg white looked like the sea monkey habitat ads from the back of my brother’s comic books.

A Colombian custom for the New Year is to have your fortune told by raw eggs in water. My grandmother, who lived with us, had been her small Colombian town’s esteemed medicine woman. A bruja buena, good witch. She was in charge of making the town’s monthly coca water (just what you think it is) as well as possessing the knowledge of reading fortunes; in this case, via egg whites. This is fancily known as the art of oomancy; egg divination through swirly patterns.   [Read more...]

Memoirs of My America – Ignorance is Bliss

I am amazed by the things that my children don’t do, that I did. Especially over Christmas. I was one of six children, and we were thick as thieves. If something entailed sneakiness and trouble, we jumped in, and we never spilled the beans on each other. It was a code of secrecy that we didn’t have to pledge, we just knew. I’m sure it had to do with the Survivors on the Island theme we were convinced we were living.

Though we were always fortunate enough to have a home and food to eat, the rest of the extra things in life that make it nice, were a bit dicey.

There was never an overabundance of much. We had what we needed, nothing more. Easier said than done, for a child: adequate but nothing unnecessary. With all those commercials on TV during Christmas? [Read more...]

Memoirs of My America – How To Live In a State of Mortification

funny avocado

For some, *ahem, me*, growing up raised by people from a different country is a hairbreadth away from being an indescribable experience. It can also provide many moments of red faced horrific distress. [Read more...]

Memoirs of My America – Penny for a Peanut Butter Twist

There we stood: the hobo, the circus clown with the red SOS pad sidehair, Casper the friendly ghost, and Fred Flintstone.

My Colombian family had not been in this country long enough to understand all the essential childhood nuances of Halloween’s Trick or Treat in the 1960′s, especially for a girl:

The Trick or Treat Night Dream List:

My costume will be home made and glittery and have some netting, somewhere

My trick or treat candy bag will be home made and glittery and match my costume


The Please Dear God Basics List: [Read more...]

Memoirs of My America – Lunchroom Angst

by Alexandra

funny-lunch-story

I am a suburban mother of three school age children, who, like most mothers across America; finds herself packing lunches Monday through Friday. For most mothers out there, I’ll bet pleasant memories of trading lunches with grade school friends brings a smile to their lips as they seal baggies with healthy, routine lunch fare for their American children.

You all probably see yourselves, back in fourth grade, sitting at the long lunchroom table across from your friends. Chattering away while pulling out the contents of what your very American parent has packed for you. So sweet, I’m happy for you; really. I’m happy that reminiscing about swapping lunches makes you smile and doesn’t conjure up a knot in your stomach.

It all has to do with what your childhood lunches were like. My lunches, my first-generation born here lunches, can only be described with the word “PANIC” placed in front of it. [Read more...]

When Someone You Love Has A Blog……

Alexandra Schultze Humorist
by Alexandra Schultze

This is Part I of a 3-Part Series covering “Living with a Blogger.”  DISCLAIMER:  My husband had nothing to do in any way with the  *inspiration* for this post. 

Loving someone who has a blog can be challenging, even confusing at times. There are so many elements of the unknown and unfamiliar, and you may feel at a loss as to what is happening to the one you chose, years ago.

Here, I have prepared a basic guide of how to speak to, and understand your blogger loved one. My hope is to help you interpret various states of mind, and behaviors of a blogger, so that you may provide the blogger you love with the in-real-life support and assurance they need.

Remember,  the person you love is still in there, and they’d love to share their world with you. Be patient, and understand, that the blogosphere they enter is entirely real, and actually does make them happier, and more productive in the end. Though, bloggers don’t measure “productive” in quite the same way as the rest of the world does.

~ When your blogger asks, “how did you like my post today?” Do not answer, “it was like an academy award speech, where they have to start the music up.”  Not a good answer. Better answer? “I thought it was great.”

~ When your blogger begins to speak of  people with names like “Momtothree” and “HouseofMouse,” do not ask her why in the world grown women would give themselves nicknames like that, instead say, “hmm…tell me who they are again.” Much better.

~ Do not suggest that she have T shirts or custom sticky notes made up of her site header for $5.00 each, and then sell them to her readers for $20.00 each and that if she sells only 5 of them, then that’s at least more money than she’s made thus far from her blog. Not a good idea.

~ Realize that your blogger’s mood will become quite manic and hang wringingish if she has posted an hour ago, and nary a comment has come in yet. Do NOT mention her agitation. Instead, be helpful and ask her if perhaps she has not checked “allow comments” under post options. This will make her feel better, and you will be considered as quite helpful. [Read more...]