El Posto

I am so outta here manana. That's Spanish for tomorrow. Actually, since I can't do the tilde thing, that may be Spanish for ca-ca or something. There are lots of Mexicans where I'm going. Including my grandparents. My grandmother is lilly white with blonde (fake) hair. My granddad is brown. I am yellow. Or so I learned from my friend the other day. And the Mac artist. How can other people tell these things, yet I am completely oblivious? I was a little worried (ok, still am) about my grandmother. She used to be such a powerhouse. And so freaking opinionated. But, she's become more or less a hermit lately. Her anxiety attacks are getting the better of her these days. I guess she was always high strung to begin with. And a quintessential Mother. Capital M. She was always worried about what could go wrong, how she would need to help one her kids out, constantly concerned about every offspring's offspring's welfare. She once said to me (I think to discourage me from the idea altogether), "Once you're a mother, you're always a mother."

True that.