Country Rican

We remember a fallen friend today, our beloved family pet Bernie. She lived to the ripe, old age of 13; a pretty good life span for any dog. Bernie had already had a close encounter with death as a puppy. She barely survived being hit by a car. Her hindquarters were turned to jell-o, and she lay on her side for several weeks. I nursed her slowly back to health. Eventually she would run again, but always with a barely perceptible hitch in her stride, which grew more pronounced with age. She would throw herself into battle with any stray dog rash enough to enter our yard, her turf. She had far more courage than brains. She would chase a dog twice her size out of our yard, and to my horror, foolishly across a busy highway. For all her bravery, she was terrified of thunder and would seek any means whatsoever to be near people during a thunderstorm. Eventually, with her hearing mostly gone, she would see rain and assume the worst. We would find her cowering inside the greenhouse

Thanksgiving is the best holiday this country has. There are no gifts to be given, no religious exclusivity connected to it, it revolves around food and more food, and it mostly involves being with family and being grateful. What is wrong with that? Nothing. Now of course, there is the history of genocide against the Native Americans... and then there is the Bart Simpson thanksgiving blessing Michael likes to say: "Dear God, we paid for all this food, so thanks for nothing." But lets let that go for now. So Michael and I celebrated out first Thanksgiving as husband and wife on Wednesday. We had a delicious 14 lbs. turkey, candied sweet potatoes, baked russet potatoes with cheese and some asparagus. It was all very yummy. Ah! Strawberry cake and Pinot Grigio too. We will be eating leftover turkey until Christmas. Last night, we had the Davis family thanksgiving, with Michael's dad's side of the family at Aunt Valgene's house. It was nice, Aunt Valgene is

The following blog was written by my very loving husband, Michael. Though it may not seem that way... he says these things out of love. Lisa My wife is learning to drive…….again. Many a brave soul has undertaken this Herculean task and failed for lack of patience. Obviously, since she is learning again, the first 50 lessons didn’t take. Being the masochist that I am, I decided to try. In fact, I have been forced into it by our living arrangements. Most readers will know that we live in Dewy Rose, a.k.a. the boonies of Georgia . In order to get anywhere (other than a cow pasture), you must drive. Recently during a routine trip to town to do errands, we stopped in a residential neighborhood to switch places so that Lisa could practice driving. She eased away from the curb and immediately asked “Am I ok?” Meaning, is she more or less in the middle of the lane? I have been driving for 20 years and forget that at first it is not always obvious just ho

For most pe ople getting a hair cut is routine, but not for me. I am all about the hair. I hate to be conceded, but most of you guys know me and know I have a goddess complex, so why pretend? I have great hair. Thanks to my Mami and my Papi, because let's face it: it is just good genes. Come to think of it, are you really conceded when you have nothing to do with it? Can I take credit for my hair if it is just an inheritance? Think about it... Anyway, my hair is very abundant and thick, it is a very rich brown color and is very straight. It used to be dead straight, like Chinese hair. In my thirties it has started to get a bit of a curl, a little more life in it. We all have African roots, and in Puerto Rico we say everyone's sliver comes out eventually. I have been praying for my bit of "negrita" to come out for years, but I digress. My hair has not been above my shoulders since I was in the fourth grade, got lice, and my mom had the hairdresser chop it of