'm as lost.
returns from a season of strong emotions and epidemiological challenges, not counting the shocks caused by the virus in Mexico green ... and I'm not talking about the A H1N1, but the deselection of the National!
And perhaps that's why, after taking adrenaline all the way ... I now find myself in an almost catatonic, as writing is concerned.
[By the way, in a study conducted in one or niversity of Great Britain (can not remember if it was Queen's College, then researchers) found that, during a boring oral (live or through a recording), people were drawing lines on a sheet or could remember almost 30% more than those who remained motionless listening. What do you think? So this would help me concentrate on writing if not porq ue would then have to clean my scribbles of a computer monitor, lol! Try it! I worked during the long (and contradictory) reports that gave information on influenza. Then tell me).]
Well, he said that one of these evenings of postpartum depression, I say, almost-post-de-influenza pandemic, we decided to go to good old cinema to watch a movie to cheer altered by the near-pandemic, lol (for example, "Extermination 1 "and" Extermination 2, "" The Night of the Living Dead: reloaded "or loss as" The Year of Living in danger in Mexico, "or" The end of time, Mexico City Challenge "). Obviously No one wanted to follow my suggestions depressing, and then we had to prescribe such a film called "Up, a high adventure."
Let me tell you I am going to claim to Pixar and collaborators have done a little to mourn my mother ... The very ... emotional! is one of those children's films that make you think more adults (children are always more intelligent, But of course!).
But you are not expected first 10 minutes of tape, approximately. Carax, is a poem! With just a superbly sequenced and edited scenes, some music to remember a time and fades into sepia tones, tell us all the heart of the main character and therefore, the motivations and causes of such unparalleled adventure. In unless par excellence, the Ponies with Horn are quite stoic, I also had put to scream (as they did secretly, most of those around me in the movies).
discrete understand my mother's tears. After all, her story resembled that tells the screen. Let me explain ... My
mother is a direct descendant of ethnic Mazahua in central Mexico. She met my father when he took care of my grandmother. My father's family (they say that the "noble ancestry, but come down economically) boasted of its history English, Italian and German.
So, when the death of my grandmother, my bereaved father began to talk to the brunette and serious that cared for her mother several years until its end, I suppose, to remember and feel even closer, there was an unusual love story or affection, which led to that shortly after my uncle, my father's older brother, asked the hand of the astonished girl who, after a moment's hesitation, simply say, "Well ... I do!"
Clearly, the most ancient aristocratic family put the outcry (ALLAAAÁ AND MORE!, Buzz Light year would say ... sorry, I just kept the Pixar movies in mind. Continued).
the day of the wedding, attended only my uncle, my father's older brother. And obviously, the bride and groom. And some witnesses. Ahhh! And the priest. And his minions?? I can not remember. Horses will understand that with Horn also have their limits, OK? (Especially when I have not yet born, LOL).
And so for the rest of their lives, they had to endure rejection from family and friends, until the children grew up and we have a little more independence, because our childhoods were also means "barren", lol. I turn to explain:
Is not it came to pass, comrades netizens, who would not know anything about the holidays, "children" of the family, because they were a real "thriller" to you?
Yes, I know:
- "Do not get to run and go to throw your cousin Louie!" (And such "Louie" was a pelagartón 5 years older than me, Carax!) Or
- "Do not go to finish the whole pie on your plate, it's rude, they will think that these starved or have never eaten cake in your life! "(And the truth is that, almost never eat cake, so what!, yomi, yomi, hahaha!) or the classic:
-" Do not play football recalled that the pants that bring the school (and therefore, it was more or less presentable, LOL). "
As a child was more adventurous, in the end it lacked the ominous threat:" You to do with your mother! "At these parties" family "we had our aunt, my mom almost not invited, for obvious reasons. And as we were the most (and only) brown-skinned group, curiously almost always stayed at final rows to distribute:
1) the pastelote of chocolate (we played the part of the "bite, bite, mordidaaa !!");
2) the gelatinitas (and sometimes we could not, because they are looking for the edible cake among all the merengue, lol!);
3) the gift boxes with candies (and since we could not monkey wrestler juar, juar!);
4) eggshells with flour and confetti, ie shredded paper (and we stayed like
General Anaya: if we had more eggs, you would not be winning over here !!!... or something. And it was gamble, haha!).
5) and Clown and piñatas and not speak, never touched us pass. Éjele that neither club wanted to kick the clown or the piñata ... Or was it vice versa?
Anyway, do not hold grudges. With these attitudes, we are the first command child secret Chafer, ie Heroic Advanced Command and Facilitation of leftover food. As years after the idea plagiarist we Rico, Kowalski, Cape and Skipper (ie, the Penguins of Madagascar), and my sisters, my brother and I were risky and dangerous forays into the finest dining rooms filled with meats, carefully missions planned to extract candy and what to leave on the tables (SEAL commands? The SWAT? commands Soviet Spetsnaz? The 007? N'ombre, these were little children whimpering in comparison, Carax !!!). 
We ran down under the tables and chairs. We we warned by signs and key sounds. And when they heard the signal A1 ("type cooker whistle Express"), it was time that a mysterious hand out from under the table and take the plate where they had left untouched pastries, snacks half or even a beautiful piece of cake half-eaten, too much!! Then, with the signal R3 ("Fox Terrier barking"), the bold agent Departed in the kitchen or dining out more swiftly to fast to the CUL ... Oh, no, sorry!, He said, to the Cuckoo (Single Coordinating Centre of Operations). There
reported the results of the risky missions: a plate full of delicious cookies were something dirty black and bitter. Quitábamos it and we ate them with singular joy (after we asked who had shot "caviar" in the trash, jojojo! As ugly and we knew then.) There were soft drinks served and no one took: What happiness! We would share the spoils of the fairest manner possible, not as the outstanding political a Mexican party whose name I will not say, as basic discretion to foreign readers, (Not to give clues to his name, I'll just say his initials are PRD).
Anyway, everything went great, until one fateful day, we got in a daring raid, even where no man had gone before (oh yes, Mr. Spock!) Across a tray of peanuts, chips and 3 3 large and elongated vessels filled with soft drink "Coca-Cola" ... or so we thought. Penetrating tasted half, but in the end "guzgos brats" (translation for other Lares where English is spoken even as it was before: guzgo = gusgo = sweet), we "Push" the soft drink to the bottom.
hours later, woke up dizzy, vomiting and headache. You guessed it: those things were fluid paths "Cubas Libres" fully charged, which took away the desire to always return to the ways of despapaye alcoholics and fun and to see with good eyes the ineffable Comandante Fidel. What a pain!
My father died later. It was so good people who, by pushing a child crossing the street with him, the beggar car caught him beating zigzagging. And although the crash did not kill him, later complications of all children, almost negligent, were those that took him early. Ever talked about it HERE in this blog, so will not bore you with more details.
Yes, the story of my parents seem soap opera, but with a final very different from those of fairy tales. However, perhaps because it was that emerged Caballitos with Horn. I see my cousins \u200b\u200b(who are) and their families and I see with sadness that the Curse of Merlin reached them. I clarified: it has a legend that, to a question from a noble about their children's education, the legendary magician answered only with a triptych
From rags to labor, child labor
, sir;
grandson worker, beggar.
, sir;
grandson worker, beggar.
And somehow, most of my paternal relatives by have died, ended their fortunes to the silly, some are killed in accidents stupid (testing the powerful new motorcycle in drag racing to impress the blonde Italian to impress the girls in the den and play with fire, etc..) Those who were left for America in search of the "friends" of the family, when they were influential ... and disappeared. We do not know most of them for years.
just left us. And our little Avarim (Unicorns small, according to legend). One sister was devoted to charity events, almost missionary. My brother ... that's another story. So the Ponies with Horn we're dying too, lol.
Y. .. and saw all the roll out. And I thought that I had nothing to tell. I hope I apologize for this clueless personal confession, but ...
After all, I think we're friends, right? And friends they open the heart ... and memory, and embarrassment, and anecdotes, in short, life. Or not?
(And then go bowls, well, blushing one, when we remember it and laugh at our misfortunes children, right? Well, part of the risk of opening the heart, it then).
I say goodbye before you start counting when the skirmishes in Central America, or the explosion in San Juanico or correteadero in the Amazon ... juar, juar, this already seems to be the channel of "NatGeo" but in comedy!
Take care, and make them promise not to yawn too. At least, I do know a little better ... I hope. Praying
balconies because someday to my former Colts Horny Family, wishing you a Bright Day fires, the closely extinct
Unicorn ...
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