Three things that you probably don’t know about me:
- I speak (mostly) fluent Spanish. I know, my ethnic features were a dead giveaway…
- My mother–with some help–makes the best tamales. Why? Because they’re made with maximum love (obviously, I mean, it’s Julie) and minimum masa. Who likes carbs anyway? (Is butter a carb…?)
- I love tamales.
Let me catch you up on a little bit of my life during the past week, though, so you don’t feel so lost. Last you knew, I had just gotten back from a crazy 15 hour journey through the desolate land of Central California (see below for details) and was safely tucked away in my apartment in South Central (safely is a loosely used word here). Well, I was in LA for all of 85 hours (that’s about 3.5 days, I know, you’re tired so I took the liberty of math-ing it out) until I turned right back around and headed northbound towards my gorgeous homeland of Northern California.
I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t listen to Taylor Swift the entire 6 hour drive home, but when you’re driving I5 all by your lonesome, someone has to keep up the morale. Cue T-Swift, Track 1 of 1989: Welcome to New York. Let’s just say I’ll be making my way to the Big Apple in the next year, and I’ll be jamming to that song (on repeat) until that day comes. So stay tuned. Literally.
I got home Thursday night (about a week ago for those of you who have already checked out for Christmas–aka ME), and since my return, I’ve managed to cram in quite a few festivities including: freaking out my mom as I walked in the door (she had no idea I was coming home!), going to a Sharks v. Bruins hockey game (I could never turn down a Bruin beating), my first trip to the public library in probably 10 years (SOS when you need a PC and you only own Apple products), a 3 hour conversation with a stranger at Starbucks (in my defense, I was trying to study), my mom’s annual tamale party, a few killer workouts and a few more great meals (turns out, I like my eggs over medium). Oh, and some intermittent studying, which is the “reason I came home.” At least that’s what I told my parents…
Beer(itos) and Best Friends
I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ve actually been studying my hiney off (hence I haven’t posted recently!), which is painfully hard considering that I’m surrounded by love, comfort, incredible food and the potential of endless adventures that don’t include school work. But studying is fun too, I guess… right?
Despite the boatloads of studying (thankfully not literal boatloads–I see more boats than any person ever needs to), there’s nothing greater than being in college, coming home from school and seeing your parents completely okay without you (did I just say that?). And although
at times most of the time I wish their everyday worlds were more centered around me (if that’s even possible), I truly do love seeing them so social. They’ve spent enough of their lives wiping my nose (not to mention booty) and making sure I have enough food in my tummy; it’s about time they start doing things for themselves. I think this is the stage of life that my mom always talks about called ‘maturity’?
So when I came home from the gym on Sunday to find my parents making tamales with some of their work friends, my heart (and stomach) smiled as I thought: A. Thank goodness there’s food because I’m starving, and B. I’m so blessed to have the family and friends that I do. I know it’s no longer the month of Thanksgiving, but anytime (especially the holidays) is a great time to be #thankful.
Something I’m not thankful for? These three finals that are bound to kick my butt next week, and this workout that’s about to knock me off my feet. At least I can think about those tamales to help get my heart rate up. Son mis favoritos 🙂
Keep doing you (and
make eat some tamales).