Pueblo Riverwalk

Contrary to the common misconception that Pueblo, Colorado is a piece of s town, it is actually quite charming. Sure, it's not as classy as Denver, but the old-town ambience of the historic district and the new riverwalk downtown was still a worthwhile visit.

Hamming it up

Why are kids always obsessed with these "penny" souvenirs?

Poor Liv, she's always missing out. Shortly after arriving, she was zonked out in her stroller. Thankfully, she woke in the middle of the boat excursion and was able to enjoy at least part of the ride.

Family Reunion: Beaner Style

I tell you what, no one else in the world can throw a rockin' party like a bunch of beaners. With the weekend festivities kicking off the night before with a dinner "mixer" to get re-acquainted with one another, Saturday night involved the formal party.

To tell you the truth, I wasn't too optimistic about the whole reunion deal. I had never attended one with my own family, and frankly, the thought of Lou's just didn't appeal much. I take it all back. The venue was at the Sangre de Cristo Arts and Cultural Center in downtown Pueblo--classy. Edibles were traditional standard-fare Mexican. And of course, the pre-requisite live band.

I guess the thing that amazed me was the lack of the need for alcohol to get the festivities of the night started. People were mingling, taking pictures, chowing down on the yummy grub...and then the band took the stage with some authentic Mexican polkas...and by josh, clan Rosales swarmed the dance floor. No sitting it out to see who'd be brave enough to step foot on the floor. None of the downing a couple shots to get the nerve to dance. Inebriation not required. It was an instant party.

Everyone danced. EVERYONE. I think dancing, and dancing well, mind you, is an inborn quality in all beaners. Of course, my husband, the best dancer ever was out there as much as he could. Sophia and Olivia took turns with me as his partner. But amazingly, Dylan finally came out of his shell and agreed to dance with his momma...and then his grandma...and soon enough, HE was the one asking ME to dance! That was my personal highlight of the night.

The Ochoa family called it a night when Sophie, of her own accord, laid herself down on three chairs she had scooted together. I hobbled out of there, high heels in hand, barefoot to the car, exhausted, but smiling. What a night.

OCHOA VACA: Take One

And so the trek to Colorado began yesterday. And as planning goes, things change. No worries, Och and I, regardless of the control freak monster in me, always live by "SEMPER GUMBI" during trips, especially with the kiddies.
The 0530 departure time got moved back to 0630 (in our sleep deprivation delirium, there were SO many things we forgot to pack the night before). And instead of our grand plan of having the first couple of hours of the trip to ourselves while the kids slept soundly in their car seats, it seems the three, including Baby Liv, could feel the charge of "something-big-is-happening" in the air. They had already taken over the speaker system with the playing of Shrek III in the rear DVD player before we Lou and I even buckled up to pull out of the garage. Not one of them took a nap until after our first stop.
Liv was screaming bloody murder about 20 minutes out from Little America; her diaper had leaked and she was soaked. After changing her from the heavy diaper and wet jammies, she had a chance to show off her prowess at a playground.

This girl's motto is "No Fear."

Across the shaky bridge.

Down the curved slide. All by herself.

Least fave part of the trip? After going 80 thru I-80, we hit the outskirts of Denver during rush hour. Being SO close, and stuck in crawling traffic is LOVELY. The kids were frustrated, too.

Note the drool sliding down the chin.

She was VERY vocal about her opinion on traffic.

The 9-hour drive turned into 13. Not TOO bad. We made it all in one piece AND in time to catch some of the festivities of the reunion dinner. Hugging and shaking hands with people whose names I instantly brain dumped was a bit overwhelming, but they were good times, nonetheless.

Keep checking back. More Ochoa family adventures to come!

TAGGED

Share three of your joys, fears, goals, current obsessions, regrets & facts about yourself... (the directions didn't say to give an explanation, but I wanted to anyway) Then, tag 5 more people & leave a comment on their blog, so they'll know!

JOYS

#1 These four beautiful blessings are my number one joy.

They are my everything.

#2 Traveling!!! Nothing beats some time away from home,

spending time with my #1's in faraway places.

#3 Writing. I have always loved to write.

It was just recently, though, that I have

realized I may actually be able to make a living from it.

FEARS

#1 My greatest fear is having something bad happen to

my children. I am almost delusional w/paranoia when it comes to them.

#2 Louie in Iraq. I get this funny feeling in my chest

whenever I think about him over there again.

#3 Natural disasters/survival situations

I know this is Lou's specialty, but

I really don't want to test it out.

CURRENT OBSESSIONS

#1 Isn't this one obvious? It is past midnight and I just finished

a 13-hour road trip, and what am I doing while everyone

else is sleeping?

BLOGGING!

#2 Buying a new DELL laptop.

The one with the "Chill" design on the cover,

and all other upgrades.

It'll be so pretty.

#3 Digital scrapbooking.

I just purchased the Adobe PE. I just have to figure out how to use it.

REGRETS

#1 Not getting the basement and landscape finished with the building of the house.

**Really, regrets are a waste of time. I don't dwell on that stuff.**

FACTS

1. I have THE biggest sailor mouth in ALL of Utah. I dare someone

to challenge me on this title. (Although I'm not proud of it.)

2. I eat KitKats a certain way. I peel the chocolate of the wafer with my teeth.

Carefully take apart the wafer layers. Nibble on each wafer layer. YUM!

3. I will most certainly snap and get scary violent with someone who has

endangered the safety of my children. (Ask the lady who hit my car and

tried to drive off.)

**I really can't tag anyone else. I don't know enough people who blog.

LUMPIA

These are those deep-fried, straight-to-your-a$$, Filipino spring rolls. I was contemplating keeping it a secret recipe, but really, these things are too pain-in-the-a$$ to make, I don't want to be the only one to request them from.
Recipe is pretty simple:
1 pkg lumpia wrappers (available at asian food stores in the freezer aisle)
1 lb. ground pork
2 large eggs
1/2 large onion (I like the red ones), finely diced
4 stalks green onion, diced
1/2 cup carrots, finely diced
1/2 cup celery, finely diced
salt and pepper to taste
Mix all ingredients except the wrappers in a large bowl. Put a heaping teaspoonful of the mixture in each wrapper and roll. Seal by wetting the edge by dabbing it with water before closing. Deep fry in vegetable oil until golden. Serve with sweet and sour sauce (Lachoy's is yummy).
You can hand cut all the veggies, but I just stick them in the food processor.
They'll keep for a month frozen.
Have fun!

A Million Things...

I am at my wit's end. Planning and packing for this Colorado trip is supposed to be simple since I had such an early start doing it. But this week has been one thing after another of distractions and other must-do's, I'm starting to crack. Here are most of the things on my list:
1) The 1,700 word final I wrote at the last minute Sunday night got lost in the netherworld of my hard drive (no more suggestions, trust me, I've tried EVERYTHING to locate it, it is simply lost) and thankfully, I got an extension until tomorrow to rewrite it.
2) The girls have their annual doc check-up today with SHOTS! Some little girl will be very unhappy today.
3) We're having the sweet boy who's housesitting for us over for dinner to get him re-acquainted with the dogs and the house.
4) Clean before the sweet boy comes over so he doesn't blab to Lou's office what a slob I am.
5) Cook for dinner with company.
6) Mow and clean up backyard.
7) Pack Dylan's suitcase.
8) Pack mine and Lou's suitcase.
9) Do laundry!!!
10) Lou's promotion ceremony is tomorrow.
11) This is immediately followed by Dylan's school Open House.
12) The rest of the homework that is due this week.
There are a MILLION other things that go along with all of these tasks. With the clock ticking, what do I do? I BLOG. Nice.

Exercise = Torture

I have no one to blame but myself. As determined as I was when I posted of my new weight loss plan was how quickly that determination won out to a bag of chips and a soda that same day.
I had my PT (physical training) test with the Utah ANG this morning up at the base. As expected, considering the amount of time I put in to prepare for it (none), I BOMBED it.

The first test was the push-up test, and no, girly push-ups are not allowed, and the rest position is the up position. I was able to pump out 42 man push-ups in under a minute (pretty darn impressive for a girl!). As everyone ooh'ed and ah'ed over my score, I had to point out that they shouldn't stay impressed for too long since it was all gonna be downhill from that point on. And it was.

The second test was the sit-up test. I don't exactly know what my offspring did to my insides while I incubated and fed them for nine months, but they sure did a number on my abs. (Talk about ungrateful little runts!) In the span of an endless minute, I could only eek out a pathetic 20 sit-ups!

Even more pathetic, was the one and a half mile run, or should I say jog/walk in my case. Six laps around the track was all I needed to do. But the hip hop rhythm blaring into my ears from the ipod did NOTHING to distract from the burning aching of my lungs and the lead weights in my shoes. It made me want to shoot myself in the face every time I considered how much longer I had to run. Even worse: seeing a colleague lap you for the second time even when they didn't appear to be running THAT fast. One good thing, though: I was able to beat the short, fat, MEAN man from the office by more than two minutes.

The final, most humiliating segment of the evaluation is the weight and waist measurement. The scale was never my friend. Did you know that a person of my height has an ideal weight of 90 to 105 pounds? I don't think I ever weighed that much since I was 12 years old! For the waist measurement, I offered to grab my lovehandles and lift them up and out of the way so they can gauge a few inches smaller. At least they got a laugh out of that, I don't think they realize I was seriously hoping they would consider giving me a break.

I suppose I'll take this as another wake up call. I do NOT want to wear clothes with double digit sizes anymore. I'm taking a Nutrition class right now, so that may help. I just need to run or take an aerobic class or something. Anything right now will help. Wish me luck.

Camping: Washington Lake

Four months after making the reservations for the only date available for the rest of the year, we finally made it over to the campsite #13 at Washington Lake, which was just ten feet away
from the lake.
The sites were a bit close together, since lakeshore acreage is a valuable commodity, and there wasn't much shade, but the view was priceless.
The campground only had vault toilets, but these were much better taken care of by the hosts. Armed with a bottle of Febreze in one hand and a pocket can of Lysol in the other, I was able to fool myself that I was in my own bathroom (I just had to remind myself NOT to look down).
This was an extra special trip since we made it down there with some great friends, who, by the way, brought THE most delicious kebabs in the history of forever. They also had the great foresight that Lou would have trouble with the campfire and brought along the beloved propane stove! Never to knock a propane stove again.

in front of Provo River Falls

handsome young man

All in all, a great outing. Next time, we will have to reserve at least two days for Lot #17. One day is not enough to explore all the area has to offer. Thank you, Lozano's, for the awesome food and even greater company!

If It Were The Other Way Around

I am an Asian-American. Filipino by race, born and raised in Japan, schooled at U.S. Department of Defense institutions, once employed by the United States Air Force, currently residing in Utah. I think it is safe to say I have seen a pretty big chunk of the world; not necessarily through geographic locations I have visited or resided in, but through the different and beautiful people I have been blessed to meet.
Through these relationships, I have gained an acceptance of all types of people: blacks, whites, Hispanics, European, Asian, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Wiccans, Atheists, shy, funny, outgoing, quiet. Get the picture? Each and every one of them have enriched my life.
I am CATHOLIC. A very small minority here in this state. So I ask you this: If it were the other way around, HOW MANY TIMES of me coming to you with a crucifix and a rosary would it take for you to get offended?
But the real question lies herein: Would you still be my friend because of this message and my faith?
Because I would still be YOUR friend despite the difference.

Adventures in "Italian" Dining in Utah: A Review

It is the company you keep that makes the time worthwhile. Boy, was that saying ever true than it was tonight. A bunch of friends accompanied Lou and I for a supposed "authentic" Italian dinner at Marcello's in Bountiful. By appearance alone, the experience looked to be promising. It was a quaint little establishment with a mural of a scene much like one you would find at the Amalfi coast plastered on one side of the narrow dining area.

Even more charming, an accordion player was stationed at one end, playing the standard Italian tune "O Sole Mio." The charming factor quickly wore off as the overbearing volume of the amp filled the room with not-so-standard ditties such as "Tennessee Waltz" and "You Are My Sunshine" which continued with even more horrible selections as "This Land is My Land" and the horrendous "The Chicken Dance."

The menu was filled with Italian standards such as spaghetti, fettucine alfredo, and pizza. The curious nightly special, hand-scrawled on a piece of copy paper and slipped into a plastic sleeve stated: BEEF STEAK with SALTATED VEGETABLES. We assumed this may be an Italian interpretation of the cooking method of sauteeing.

The food was nothing remarkable. The dishes spoke of an authentic Italian's homecooking...an Italian who couldn't cook so well. Most everyone was happy with their meals, but of course I would have the luck to order the exception. The meat canneloni suspiciously resembled corn tortilla enchiladas, and as it so turned out, sure tasted an awful lot like it, as well. After a closer inspection, the usual semolina pasta roll of a canneloni was in actuality a CORN TORTILLA. What?!?!?! Maybe my dish got switched with someone's Mexican take-out in the kitchen? Needless to say, I could only stomach a bite or two and gave up on my plate. Instead, I ate Lou's saltated zucchini slices and the remaining bruschetta bread.

The establishment's redeeming factor? Our tall, pudgy, and absolutely endearing fruity waiter, whose shy valley girl remarks gave us all something to smile about. "We actually don't have Cherry Pepsi, I don't even know why that's on the menu." Also on the thumbs-up list, the warm greasy bread slices that saved my stomach from hunger pains.

But of course,the best part of the night: the hysterically funny company of our now-"official"-friends.

Want

I've been there before...actually, I'm there right now...I am afflicted with a serious case of wanting. Wanting the scent of a brand spankin' new vehicle with its upholstery free of the splatter stains from a pressurized Coke can...wanting a fresh living room carpet that gives no indication that this home's owners have destructive pets ...wanting a professional landscaper service my backyard jungle free of weeds and doggy land mines...wanting a new Dell laptop to do homework on so I don't have to keep stealing the one Grandpa gave Dylan last Xmas...maybe even wanting to join in an investing venture to own luxe vacation property in the Philippines...And all this wanting? It's wanting it NOW. The list goes on and on.

If this were at another point in time, a more greedy Winnie would probably find a means to support the addiction of fulfilling all these "wants." A simple swipe of plastic usually did the trick. The more pocket-painful process of having to pay that back, of course, also came with the package. And more times than none, the novelty of the then-much-needed item has expired way before the first payment was sent off through the magical world of Web Bill Pay.

But as singledom gave way to marriage and family, the ability to resist those "wants" gave way to a more pressing matter of providing a quality life for myself, the hubby, and the children. Yes, those wants still fester in the back of my mind...and I usually can't resist the "wants" of the kids, but thankfully, I have been gradually blessed with the resistance to shiny pretty things (this has been helped along with the ceremonious shredding of the plastics).

The kids enjoying a simple afternoon running around the cul-de-sac with neighborhood friends is a comforting sight. It reminds me that this innocent joy is not fueled by material belongings...heck, if my kid wants to ride a nifty little bike, all she has to do is "steal" it from a neighboring garage...hehehe.

There's that cute little saying, "The best things in life are not things." I'd like to adopt that as my mantra, although the sight of that bright red and white bullseye is all it takes to get my heart racing at the anticipation of some major retail therapy! Oh, well, I guess I'm not completely reformed.

Road Tested-TRUNKI!

Introducing the kid-sized, hard-cased, colorful, riding-toy-slash-luggage TRUNKI! While displaying definitive OCD behavior by obessively perusing the Internet for new trinkets and gadgets we just HAVE to have for the upcoming trip, I came across this nifty little thing. The top has a groove designed to hold little kiddie bottoms and a luggage strap that can be configured to pull the case, with precious cargo riding atop, through to the departure gate or hotel lobby, or what have you. It's been an immediate hit with the girls, with them taking turns, one riding/one pulling up and down the kitchen. It's very stable, and even Livy has managed to hold onto the little "horns" on the front to keep her balance while Sophie whizzes her front-on to the fridge. Too bad there are no brakes. :-) This particular pink one, Trixie the Trunki, will be for Sophie-So's use to hold her little activity books and other necessities for stays at the various hotels in Colorado.

AFE Picnic

It's nice to see the AFE community finally all like each other enough to schedule regular get-togethers. If any of you know the atmosphere back then, the only word to describe AFE would be TENSE. What a relief it is that everyone gets along now and are making a conscious effort to raise morale for the troops.

Last Friday was the first AFE picnic of the year, in the hopes of having a get-together once a month.

The site of the picnic wasn't ideal, due to lack of available spots, but the kids made do with the pea gravel walkway and lots and lots of space.

Liv adores her big bro.

Here's Miss Sophia, supervised by Kuya Dylan, about to terrorize an ant hill.

Lovely Liv

Sexy

For the majority of my time, I'm either cooped up in the house with the rugrats until it's cool enough to venture outside, or at work (for those days few and far between in which my babysitter (aka Mom) is around). So, I suppose one could classify me as "sheltered." Funny, how completely oblivious I was of the fact until Lou and I sneaked away to SLC for our recent date night. We were seated by a window at the Melting Pot and were thus rewarded by an opportunity to people watch.

There were the usual: the typical businessman, briskly walking to catch the pedestrian light at the corner, with his shirt half untucked and tie hanging loosely down the front, the occasional street beggar clutching at his cardboard sign, a couple here and there, holding hands probably on a date night just like us. Then there were those that Lou and I (well, maybe just me) zoned in to.

Maybe it's just that I'm OLD, or CONSERVATIVE, but I like to believe that women should try to look more classy than sexy since dressing for sexiness almost always leads to trashiness. And as Lou often reiterates, classy is synonymous to sexy. Apparently, from what we saw that night, not many people are aware of that.

One female in particular came sauntering down the sidewalk, swinging her hips back and forth so aggressively, you would think she was auditioning for a trip down the catwalk. Her date had to hold her hand at arm's length to make room! Too bad, too, she was dressed decently.

Another girl totally brought the term "streetwalker" to mind. She was with a considerably older companion, and maybe she was trying to look older. Unfortunately, all she needed was some fishnets to complete the impression that she knew a thing or two about working a corner.

I can go on and on about all the hookers I saw that night. Whatever happened to playing up your assets in a tasteful way? I'm not a prude, but there's nothing attractive about a g-string sticking out of your lowriders. Cleavage is okay, and something Lou prefers, but revealing just a bit of it is the key. Pamela Anderson balloon-type chi-chis are never okay. Legs, especially long ones, are nice to show off. But when wearing short skirts or dresses, please, oh, please cover your treats!

Remember Brittney Spears?!?!?! I read about that paparazzo incident, but apparently, I was just too darn curious. In this case, curiousity killed the cat. I about died a million times over after clicking on that link and being cursed with that screen-sized ghastly image. I have yet to recover.

Anyway, thank goodness I live in a quiet little town in which I am not continuously exposed to such atrocities. I think I should hide out in the 'burbs for a bit before venturing out into the real world again.

Instant Fan

Call me a bandwagon fan. I don't care. Michael Phelps is my new hero. From the '92 games in Barcelona, I have been an avid follower of the Olympics: swimming, gymnastics, and volleyball being my favorite events. But through those past four Olympics, I have never gotten the rush of goosebumps cheering an American on like I do when I see this guy kill in the Water Cube. Makes me want to learn how to swim.

Date Night

A free babysitting service is always a great thing, especially if you and your other half need some serious "us" time. Louie and I escaped the kiddies last night and hopped on the Frontrunner to downtown Salt Lake City. I'm not too sure if we really saved on gas (it's only 3.99/gal now, btw!), but the freedom for BOTH of us to relax on the way and back was priceless. Besides, it gave us the opportunity to both imbibe if we chose to.

We headed over to our usual fave: The Melting Pot, a fondue restaurant situated smack dab in the middle of the downtown district, on 300S and Main. Started off the night with a cocktail, a pineapple mojito for moi, and a classic margarita for him. Lou didn't like his too much, complaining it was too sweet. I, on the other hand, loved the summery taste of pineapple and mint; the moj was a hit. Considering the level of our alcohol tolerance has declined considerably, we cut ourselves off at one drink. You know you're getting old when you can feel the heat after two sips of a COCKTAIL. Yeesh.
The grub was lovely as always. We started off with a spinach and artichoke cheese starter with rye and french bread, green apple cubes, and tortilla chips as dippers. The next course was a caesar salad for him (Louie was never known to be adventurous with food) and a Tropical Salad for me. It had spring greens with diced tomatoes, mangoes, candied cashews, dressed with a creamy mango vinaigrette. We chose the Lobster Fusion package with a lobster tail, jerk seasoned sirloin, filet mignon, zesty chicken, peppered shrimp, sweet and sour pork, butternut squash, all fondued in the yumptious coq au vin. For dessert (although we hardly had any more room) was the dark chocolate with marshmallow cream and crushed Oreos fondue. The dippers provided were brownie squares, rice krispy treats, pound cake, bananas, strawberries, and marshmallows.

We staggered out of there barely able to breathe! Thank goodness for the walk to the TRAX station. It was a great night for Mr. and Mrs. Och.

road tested

Relationships are tough.

L and I have always maintained a very loving and supportive marriage. But there was a time way back when we just couldn't seem to get on the same page. It was a difficult time because up until then, we foolishly believed that we, as a couple, were invincible. There was a bit of a struggle to get the motor running again. During that little phase, a book, recommended by a dear friend of ours, clicked us back together. It's been smooth sailing since.

In a nutshell, the theory of Dr. Gary Chapman is that each individual speaks one of the five "love languages." Each type of language gives and receives love a certain type of way. The goal is to find your partner's and your language so you can learn to communicate effectively. It's so good we would recommend it to anyone and everyone: new couples, old couples, unhappy couples, happy couples--everyone will get something out of this.

http://fivelovelanguages.com

Night at the Movies

It's hard to find a drive-in movie theater nowadays. With three hyperactive children, it's such a blessing to have one nearby, or else L and I would have to wait for movies to come out on video to watch them. Lou's AFE friends decided to all meet up last night to watch Pineapple Express, a totally inappropriate film for young kids, but they didn't sit still to watch it anyway (or so I hope). I didn't like the movie much, either...stoner films don't appeal much, but the atmosphere and spending time with the kids was all I was looking for anyway.

For those of you interested in some movie fun with the kids or some adult necking time at the movies old fashioned style, check out the website below for current listings. They don't take check or credit card, children under five yrs. old are free, first movie starts at dusk.

http://www.motorvu.com/

cutie patooties

Short Jokes

"How tall ARE you?"--"Stand up, Winnie!"--"You make a good armrest."--"What's it like being so much closer to the ground?"

I am 4'9", thank you. Actually, maybe even a bit shorter. My AF recruiter taught me how to raise just one heel during the MEPS height measurement to add even an inkling to my stature, because when he measured me himself, I was a measly 4'8"3/4. Regardless, I still required a more thorough physical exam than those over 4'11" and a height waiver to be admitted into our military.

My height, or lack thereof never bothered me, even when my little sister shot up and joined the ranks of those who could literally look down at me. I was accustomed to the frequent "short" jokes and the pre-requisite inquiry about my official height. "Shorty" was an endearment directed toward me way before it ever became inducted into the Ebonics dictionary. "Hey Shorty, it's your birthday," was being sung at my high school before 50Cent learned to rap.

There are probably many similarly vertically-challenged people who would want nothing more than to gain an inch or six. But not me, I've actually enjoyed being this short, for the most part, at least. It makes me who I am, and especially in Utah, the land of the white giants, it makes me pretty unique walking around the mall hauling my three rugrats while pre-pubescents mill about towering over me.

Short jokes, I even find funny. For those of you who know me, you know I'm always up for a good laugh, and that I would be the first to make fun of myself. I find that self-deprecating humor always seem to get the biggest laughs anyway.

It's just those who can't seem to think of NOTHING more to say than an overplayed joke EVERY time I run into them that really fire up my temper. Let me make this disclaimer: friends and neighbors are NOT part of this category. It's the occassional co-worker that usually inspires my ire.

So there's this short, bald, rotund man I work with who thinks he is just so slapping-his-leg funny whenever he calls attention to my proximity to the ground. I laughed at first, but I noticed he did this EVERY single time I spoke to him. EVERY time. Now WHY in heavens would someone do that other than to: 1) be mean-spirited or 2) fill the void in his malfunctioning cerebrum, and this recycled material was all his intellect could muster. Who knows? But I am finding myself acquiring a definite dislike for this poor poor guy.

This blog is nothing but an opportunity to vent. Don't quit with the short jokes. Actually, I CHALLENGE you to come up with one I haven't heard of before. Obviously, since I live this joke every day of my life, I think it would be near impossible for you to do so. If I laugh uncontrollably at your next short joke, I'll owe you lunch!

Athletic Ability - a Natural Aphrodisiac

I always fantasized my future boyfriend/hubby to be a tall white (see "Dirty Asian" blog below) man who represented the typical American boy next door. Now, mind you, at twelve years old, requirements of a mate were purely superficial. Tall, primarily because my 4'9" (YES, 4'9"!) self needed to mesh genes with one who would give my offspring a better chance of growing beyond five feet tall. White, well..duh...like I said, refer to "Dirty Asian" blog. Typical boy next door to me back then was clean cut and good at sports.
Good at sports. I didn't want to be with a guy who was just a spectator next to me on the bleachers, or worse on the bench. I didn't want the responsibility of the standard after-game consolation, saying,"Well, maybe next time they'll let you play."
At the age of 24, I found myself marrying in complete defiance of that short little list I made so long ago. As infatuated with him as I was, it never even crossed my mind. Not until tonight, at a local volleyball tourney, did I remember it, and it made me smile.
My wonderful other half is a 5'6" Mexican, alright...but I did manage to snag an athlete! As short as he is, my hubbers managed to fly up above the regulation net and score some solid blocks on some pretty great spikes. And they weren't just the tip of the finger blocks, but more the solid tha-thump, forearms above the net, springing back lightly onto the floor blocks. It was grace in motion, I tell you. His team has advanced to tomorrow's next round.
And it's just not volleyball. My man can burn up a basketball court like no other. He's beaten everyone who's ever challenged him to one-on-one (no joke), even the big, black, baller types. Then there's raquetball, and ping pong (is that a sport), and softball...I can go on and on. He's got that natural athleticism, and it is so dang irresistable. I LOVE that I married a jock!

Movin' on up

Introducing my upgrade from the so-yesterday point-and-shoots, everyone say hello to my new gizmo. I have been in want of an SLR for awhile now, and our upcoming vaca has upped the want factor even more. And, as if it was a sign from above, my point-and-shoot Nikon's battery compartment clasp went bust. So want became need.
After obsessing over countless online reviews, I decided on this pretty little Nikon D40. Just the basic kit with 18-55mm lens with 6.1 MP. The best bang for the buck for beginning SLR photogs.
Currently, I am waiting (impatiently) for the battery to charge so I can actually shoot a couple pics. I figure, if I work on it a little everyday, I may be able to figure out apertures, and ISO's, and such before we depart on the annual Ochoa adventure.
I'll update this post later once I actually get it working. Woohoo!

UTANG Perks

I have to admit I was having some serious regret that I abandoned my active duty stint in the USAF and jumped into serving the state instead. I excelled at my job at Hill, won lots of awards, and(you ops guys better not laugh)even though I was a desk jockey as one might call it in the military world, I felt like a soldier.
I was a stickler for rules and regulations, and my first encounters with the Utah Air National Guard left me a bit shell shocked. There were many days I drove home ranting and raving about what rules were being ignored and so on and so forth.

But yesterday, I was blessed with the gift of re-assurance that I made the right decision. I was pulled into the office and told there was a bucket to fill for some tours of duty in Qatar and Iraq. My heart sank when I heard the news...knowing it was my turn to wallow in the sandbox. But then, to my surprise, instead of a RNLTD, I was given...a choice. A CHOICE!!! Do I or don't I want to volunteer to serve in Iraq? Sixty days ain't so bad...but that would be the same time L would be there, too. A perk would be us being allowed to stay in the same barracks as man and wife during the deployment, but a definite downside are the babies...No one can care for my babies like I can!

And so I turned them down. Eezy peezy. Simple as that. Thank goodness for the UTANG.

Afterthoughts

I just couldn't comprehend the morons who lined up outside Walmart for four hours just so they can get a book three minutes before those who were smarter (i.e.,yours truly) and showed up two minutes 'till midnight. Oh well...to each their own.

So here goes the review of the most anticipated book since...well...Harry Potter VII(I guess that wasn't TOO long ago). SPOILER AHEAD...so if you haven't read it yet, don't read any further.

Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer,is in lack of a better word, satisfying. Now, I KNOW, I KNOW, there are those (many many many of those) who are shrieking of disappointment that meek little Bella got it all her way. But, you see, I'm an absolute sucker for happy endings, and this little vampire fairy tale satisfied my sweet tooth for the like. Actually, if it turned out any other way, the saga might have been ruined for me. Seriously, I HATE sad endings, no matter how touching or thought provoking, or whatever. Friday Night Lights was a great movie until their loss at the very end ruined the whole dang thing.

I was happy it turned out the way it did. There's nothing like an against-all-odds love story. I'm not even that big of a fan of Bella, she's a little too lovestruck puppy for me. But that Edward is something else...the epitome of how all women want to be loved.

Two, and just two, gripes:

1) RENESMEE??? What F*#&#N dumb@ss name is that? It's like those dumb Filipino couples who take half of one name and mesh it with a totally incompatible other name. UGHHH!
2) The battle that never was. Wouldn't it have been SO much cooler if Bella and Edward and company obliterated the Volturri and took over the world? A mind-boggling epic battle would have THOROUGHLY satisfied.

FINAL judgement: 4 out of 5 Still a MUST read along with the rest of the other books.

CRASH!

And here goes one more hail mary attempt at dieting before the wedding. AAAGGGHHH! My constant love affair with food has mushroomed into a raging monster. L says we have the same problem: "We have a weight problem, can't "weight" to eat." I've always taken my petite figure for granted, and when I was sick, it was even easier to keep the poundage off. But then I got happy and my happiness came velcro-attached to all the unhealthy grub that for some reason, my happy self suddenly can't generate enough metabolism to burn. I didn't care much...but now my promotion is betting on my ability to pass my PT test in three weeks and I am making a rare appearance at a Rocha family event. I don't want to be "L's wife, the one who looks like a fat troll."
Trying on a dress for the wedding...and I realize why I never bothered to purchase a full length mirror for the house. EEEWWW. I'll be damned if I show up looking like that without even trying to shed some inches.

So here it is: I VOW TO LOSE AT LEAST TEN LBS BEFORE THE END OF AUGUST.

I'm marching over to Ladystyle Fitness, purchase a mbrship, and start RIGHT NOW to EAT RIGHT. No more fatty burgers and fries (my insides are sobbing) and no more second helpings...shit, not even heaping first helpings. Let's see how it goes. Wish me luck.