Why I'm a teacher.

I bet by the title you think this is going to be a real deep and meaningful post about the joys of educating the future world leaders. Nope. Sorry. (Though, I know most of you are probably relieved since you don't want to read a serious blog post.)

Think back to the days of Barbie to that fateful day when you, and you know you all did, decided that barbie needed a haircut. Same idea.

I cut Ana Victoria's hair.

AV was growing a little Mexi-Mullet. Party in the back and on top with a nice little bald patch around the middle. If you know my dad, think opposite of Walter. So, since Ramon and I both cut our hair yesterday, we decided it was time for AV to join us. Little snip here, little snip there. Then I snipped some more. I'm no Gene Juarez, but if you like crookedy bangs, I'm your gal. Don't look close while the hair is wet. Just look at the overall style. (Most haircuts look better styled anyway. Whoever believes in wash and wear, just likes boring hair....ie... me...lots of dots...) Let's just say I'm not going to quit my day job yet.

Feeling cool.

I saw this today and all of a sudden felt real cool.

Who do I know in Latvia, Germany, Netherlands and China?

PS The height of people reading my blog was July. You've been slacking. I've been slacking. Let's fix that.

Pageviews by Countries United States 872 Mexico 129 Canada 8 China 5 Russia 5 Australia 3 Latvia 3 Germany 2 Netherlands 2 Peru 2

Adventures in Public Transportation

I've only really used public transportation in a few countries, but I am taking the liberty of generalizing that public transportation, along with its users, has some serious quirks that, if you catch the rider on a good day, can really be quite enjoyable. My, that was a long sentence.

If you didn't read my last post, shame on you, you may have missed the part about how I crashed. The car is still in the shop, not because the problem is that serious, but more because the car is really only Ramon and my priority. Not the insurance, not the shop, nobody. Sucks to be us? Yes, a little bit.

Any way, I've become a bus rider again. I thank my lucky little stars that this will be a relatively short lived period of my life, since I'll only be able to find humor in it for so long.

There is no such thing as a bus schedule. Three might pass at the same time, racing each other, of course, and then it can really honestly seriously be twenty minutes until the next one comes by.

Black lights are cool. They're especially cool if they make Jesus on the cross glow.

Speaking of Jesus on the cross, He is on every bus. Not in the spiritual kind of way where Jesus is always with us. No, he's there. Usually in giant crucifix or life-size window cling form. He is usually accompanied by Mary, Our Lady of Juquilita, and/or some pin-up model in a bikini.

There is no such thing as a full bus. Friday I got on one that was obviously overfilled when I got on. Think enough seats for 30, already had close to 50 when I got on. My silly little naive self thought, "Oh good, he probably won't stop much more, now." Wrong. Think sardines. Smelly, sweaty, unshowered, Friday afternoon sardines. I think I just threw up a little.

Here's my wondering. I'll chalk it up to life's big questions. Isn't it in the bus drivers best interest to get people safely and comfortably from one destination to the next? Isn't that good for business? Isn't it probably a good idea to stop the bus completely while people get on and off? Isn't it probably wise to pick up passengers, especially when your bus is empty?

Call me loca... Here's to hoping the car is ready soon.