I have been able to cross over to being just friends with some of my exs. We might exchange a phone call or an email once every couple of months.
One such ex, a Cuban, called about a month ago. He was doing really well and starting to think about going to visit his mother in Cuba this June. He was also thinking it’s about time for him to think about kids, “Kikita, imagine how beautiful our kids would be… and wouldn’t it be great if we made them in Cuba? Come to Cuba with me! I’ll pay for everything! Then we’ll have kids and you won’t have to work!”
I let him know I was flattered, but happy with my current love interest.
He asked about the new guy and wished me the best and that was that.
Fast forward to today, my current gentleman caller went to a concert with “the boys” last night, didn’t send any pictures (but hey, it was boys night so that’s mostly understandable), and has not yet said Good Morning.
The phone rings. It’s the ex and he was singing, “I can love you like that! Kikita give me a chance! I would give you the world….”
Crap. I freaking love that song.
He asked about Mami and Abuela and “El Novio.”
He asked I was going to the Cuban Festival in San Dimas this year. (I had already decided I was.)
He sang one more time before hanging up.
I guess we aren’t just friends… at least, not for his part. It’s a good thing I lost interest in him years ago because otherwise that cheese just might work. 😉
My favorite part about Easter is the week before. I’m not a big fan of how Easter is done here in SoCal, but I love Passover.
There’s just so much symbolism behind it! I love how everything means something.
As grateful as I am for the incredible sacrifice Jesus made, the Last Supper and how radical Jesus was during it really drives home the whole point with me much more so than anything else.
I don’t dye eggs to remember Jesus died.
And Jesus rose from the dead, so who needs a funeral egg?
I don’t just look at them to remember suffering.
I eat them.
So he hasn’t called.
He never not calls.
Any girl who has ever not been called knows exactly what happens next. A total freak-out. It’s where the “psycho-girl” stereotype comes from. Obviously, it’s not our fault. If he would just call, we wouldn’t be feeling crazy.
Here is how any normal girl who is feeling crazy can work to get over the fact he’s not calling and get on with her life:
1. DO NOT CALL.
2. DO NOT CALL.
3. Call a girlfriend instead. Be all the crazy you want at her, she understands.
4. Pick two movies. One needs to be an Action/Adventure/Drama type. The other can be the requisite uber-chick flick.
5. Make sure there is plenty of popcorn and M&M’s on hand for all this movie watching.
6. You have two choices: Either call some girlfriends and go out, or continue to stay home and catch up on Grey’s Anatomy, Private Practice, and Castle.
7. DO. NOT. CALL.
8. Sleep on it. In the morning, you really should be over your craziness (or it should have gone down to a simmer).
9. Go out to lunch with friends who tell you how amazing you look and are.
10. Go for a long walk and take deep breaths.
If one is kikitiando properly, he’ll call the moment you’re over it*.
*When he does call, there is no need to push a “Why didn’t you call?” because he’s calling now and, odds are, if you sit back and wait, he’ll just share about what a horrible couple of days it’s been and how he hasn’t had any free time. It is up to you to decide whether or not you believe it. But remember, we all have those moments.
I don’t know if it was because I’d had a great work out or if I just had too much on my mind or if it was too cold or what, but sleep was just not happening for me. And it was weird because I wasn’t having that frustrated “OMG, I can’t sleep” feeling.
When my alarm finally went off, I was deep in dreamland, but woke up feeling rested so I know I slept.
I then proceeded to spill …
The coffee beans.
The coffee. (I guess I didn’t tighten the cafetera properly.)
As I looked for tacitas to pour the cafe into, all I saw was one, on the higher shelf. I was a bit confused because it was one of a set that sits on the counter. I grabbed it and … the word “spill” does not correctly convey what happened. The tacita had still been full of yesterday’s cafe, which was now all over:
Hey, if I’m going to bathe in cafe, I BATHE in cafe.
Abuela (oblivious): Oye, chica, porque tardas tanto con el cafe?
Me: I ate too much tonight. 😦 And what really sucks is that I’m skipping the gym tomorrow because I’m having dinner with Simon. He went out with that one chick again and has to tell me about it.
Him: Hun, you should really think about going to the gym. Keep your goal in sight! Skipping the gym for some story? REALLY? You think that’s worth it?
So I rescheduled dinner with Simon and went to the gym instead.
Him: I wasn’t trying to make you cancel your plans …
Me: I know.
About a week later…
Me: I ate a LOT at lunch today. Some random FB saw me, but didn’t say, “Hi” because we’re not friends in real life and he didn’t want to freak me out. I guess he goes there every week.
Him: You know, sweets, you could start taking your lunch. That way you could watch what you’re eating and save money.
Hmmm, two nifty solutions that both seem to also involve eliminating “potential threats.”
I bet he doesn’t even realize he likes me that much. 🙂
Him: CANNED BLACK BEANS?!?!!
Me: Cut me some slack, I’ve had a long day.
Me: Sorry that I’m not Cuban enough for you.
Him: Don’t worry. I can cook. :-p
Jury Duty is nothing to turn up your nose at. It should be a blast being able to participate in the judicial process.
Now, when one plans on Kikitiando their way through Jury Duty, it must be handled with the utmost delicacy.
Obviously, one must respect the court and the system and everything.
Make sure your phone is charged.
Make sure you have a good book.
Make sure you have a banana in your too-big purse. (One should always carry a banana around. It is a great conversation piece.)
Now, because we are happy to be “Serving the Community. Serving Justice.” successful Kikitiando is subtle Kikitiando.
Subtle being: Wearing a leopard shirt, a “salsa” skirt, leopard shoes, and red lipstick. Classy and sassy.
Choose a seat at the front of the room and sit cross legged, read the book, but smile at anyone who makes eye contact. Perhaps a wink here or there.
Find a good time to use the restroom and sache your way out of the room. Double-check your lipstick and sache back in and back to your seat.
With the right kind of luck, you’ll only have to sit for an hour or so. When they thank you for your service let you out early, run home, grab your swim suit, and go to the pool.