Eat, Pray, Love.....Oh, Brother

    A friend of mine just asked me if I had read Eat, Pray, Love. It sparked such a strong emotion out of me that I had to write about it. To answer her question: "Yes", I did waste a day in my life that I will never get back, reading the infinite bantering of this woman. And "no", I don't recommend she suck my friend into doing the same. For those of you who have not read the book, cover your eyes for the next few sentences. This New York writer gets a divorce from her husband and doesn't know why her marriage failed. She seeks to go find herself in the following year by spending a lot of her time eating in Italy, praying in India and loving in Bali. I only needed to read the first chapter to know why her marriage failed. She, and possibly her husband, were very self centered, selfish, and small individuals who compare their happiness by what the world gave them and not the opposite. None the less, she goes on this quest and is encouraged by her publisher to write about it. (If I ever get my hands on that lady....) Any how. She goes to Italy, and doesn't work, just spends the day eating and learning Italian from hot Italians. And guess what, she feels happier. No crap! Then she goes to India to learn how to pray from some swami. She really has trouble with this one and doesn't feel like she will ever know true peace until one day when she is in a vow of silence and is given the job of helping other people in the ashram. Surprise, surprise y'all. She suddenly gets an epiphany that it is when she finally serves others she feels true peace and oneness with the Almighty. My true sadness here was that she didn't take a vow to not write.
   
     With all her new found intune-ness she shleps it to Bali where she lives in paradise and seeks more advice from other swamis about her life and happiness instead of praying directly to Heavenly Father who had blessed her with the spirit in the ashram. Finally, when she gets off of her selfish, self centered ride of need she finds that a nice foreign guy is interested in her and they live happily ever after....Yeah, right!  Now, I don't know where this writer is now but I bet the farm, she breaks up with Prince Charming just like she did with the first guy. Because she doesn't get it. She never changed who she was and never truly learned to speak with God.
   
      I was disappointed in the book because it took this moron a whole soul searching, agonizing year around the world to learn a truth that I knew since I could form a sentence. That it is only in the service of others that you can truly know happiness.  What made me angry was how, not only an entire New York based publishing company thought this was worthy of a book, but also an entire Hollywood company thought it needed to be a movie too. Let me let you in on a much better book. It's the Bible. It has eating, praying and loving in it too but on a much grander scale. If you think this lady served a bunch of hippies in an ashram, you should get a load of Jesus "the Man" Christ. He will blow you away.
   
     But I think that with the world wide success of this movie, most people just can't handle such a read all at once. That is what truly makes my heart ache. Have we really sunk that far? Do we really not remember the simple teachings of the Savior that this gibberish is suddenly a revelation to so many?
     If you are a fan of Eat, Pray,Love, and the Bible is too much to sink your teeth into right now on your quest to self enlightenment, let me just say that I am selling my latest book online for a very reasonable price. It is called, "Strain, Poop, Wipe" and it will be cataclysmic in its teachings for you. Here is an excerpt:

Chapter One Strain
Just bear down like you are going to sneeze, but just out of your butt......

Chapter Two Poop
Don't be afraid. Everyone poops. Just yesterday, when I saw the doggie outside poop in front of me, I knew that I could do it too.

Chapter Three Wipe

You will feel lighter. It will make you feel independent. Free and Clean of dingleberries.

So, in short. I read the book. It was all right.

I Vote, You Vote, But I Voted with Triplets

     Today I woke up and could just feel the energy in the air. How will the day turn out? Who will be the next president of the United States of America? I knew one thing for sure. We were going to put in our vote today. For anyone who knows us, you would know that we strongly believe that children should be raised to get along in society and not that society should make exceptions for them. With that said, I would like to thank the one hundred people in the voting line today that took one look at me with three toddlers and let us go to the front of the line. With Carlos in my arms and the girls in the stroller, I cast my vote. How thrilling. And whether Romney or the wrong guy get voted in today, I am so proud to be in a country that gives us the opportunity to make a choice. And another shout out to my parents for moving us to this country for that chance. Now, if anyone would like to rent triplets so as to get in the front of the line today, email me your best offer. We are open all day

Dancer for Life

     Today I went and watched Eva's Nutcracker recital. I honestly don't know what I love more; that feeling of excitement as you watch the choreographer lay out the steps eight beats at a time or the actual show where it all comes together. I felt a bit nostalgic too at watching the combination of the young ballet school girls, prim and proper with their hair in tight buns and pristine tights, working alongside the ballet core girls in their grubby ripped sweatshirts and baggy pants. In my day, your talent as a dancer was directly proportional to how disgusting your clothes were. And that seems to still be the case. We used to get our old tights and cut out the crotch to use as an undershirt with our leotards.We cut out the backs of our leotards and then cut holes in our shirts to show off the cuts we made in our leotards. We used actual trash bags as pants so we could sweat off five pounds in a rehearsal. It seems somebody cashed in on that idea and now sells fancy trash bags for $30. And where we used the Ugg style shoes over our pointe shoes, these girls have some form of arctic climbing shoe (shown below). Now the guys are in on it too. Here is what I call the Michael Jackson of feet look. One sock on, one sock off look. I can see now why my mother was constantly disgusted with me. If we looked like these girls, it looked like a homeless shelter had been infested with an extremely talented group of bums. And of course, with the hindsight I have now, I would have been happy to show off my body more back then, instead of being so self conscious about every single hair on my head. 

arctic footwear

MJ of feet. Look at how cute the young girls are

I love the split shot of busy class and girls chatting before class.

I make a very big effort each year NOT to force Eva into ballet. I put on my best poker face and ask her if she wants to continue or try something else. I hold my breath but she really seems to like it and I think she has a lot of potential. But I have to say that ballet is a lot different for her as it was for me. I went to a ballet company that was run by serious Cuban ballet dancers that were trained by serious Russian ballet dancers. I can't think of a teacher that didn't scream at us and carry a big stick to bang on the floor or hit us with. Not like a beating you would get in the hood. But a smack on your butt or belly to remind you to suck it in or push it down. I look at Eva's teachers, how they smile and hug the girls, and part of me is jealous I didn't have that but the other part is wondering if these kids can really learn in this Sesame Street environment.

I think every girl, whether it is two seconds in a tutu after Christmas, or for twenty two years in a company, has dreamed of dancing-of putting on the beautiful costume, the makeup and getting up on stage to perform for an audience. I see it in my daughter. She has the bug. What I wish for her and for all of us is more shelf life. Where do old dancers go to dance? 

I danced alongside Nuryev, Fernando Bujones, Edward Villela, The Kozlovs, Godunov when I was in the ballet company. And when I wasn't with them, I was dancing in a Cuban Folklore company, shaking what my mama gave me.   We traveled the country and out of the country. It was wonderful. But for me the dream had to end so I could grow up and be what I wanted to be more than a dancer. At least, that's what I told myself. My husband never saw me dance and the ongoing joke in our house is that every time he sees me trip or bump into something he says, "You must of been a great dancer." I think its weird he doesn't' know that "me". It was such a big part of making me who I am now. But again, every little girl's dream of being a dancer must end: whether at two or thirty two years old is the question. There may be some fun classes for adults who used to be dancers, like the one I did with my friend Natalie in New Orleans, but there is no curtain call or costumes in that one. But it sure was fun. So for now, I am happy to have my memories and love, love, love these moments at the ballet. 

Nuryev

Bujones

This was my Cuban Folklore days

My dad almost had a heart attack when I wore this at the Orange Bowl Parade

For all of the dancers who read this post. Keep dancing. I do it with my babies, in the shower and wherever the beat catches me. I've never looked back at my life and said, " Hey, I should of danced less." Fathers-dance with your daughters. They will always remember those moments. My first salsa dance was with my father and I can still remember what he smelled like. And now when I dance Salsa, I think about him and where I come from. Girls, dance with your friends. I have many fond memories of dancing alongside my besties as we rang in new year after new year. And mothers, teach your sons how to keep a beat. It can only help them land a future wife you may actually get along with. I have to go now. I feel like dancing with my daughter. Maybe I'll show her some of my fancy moves the old Russians passed down to me with their sticks. And I don't know how much longer I will have to do it.