Learning a new language...kinda

So, here I am two years almost since I started dating a Mexican.  This love of my life is so wonderful, and now I have the oppertunity to get to know his parents as well, and wouldn't you know it....I can't speak a damn little bit of Spanish.  What's wrong with this particular situation? 

1.  Even though I took two years of Spanish in college, I can't speak more than the really good four letter words.  Most that I wouldn't say in english, due that the fact that it would probably make me blush.

2.  Those are not the types of words you want to say to your future in-laws.  It is guarenteed not to impress them.


3.  I have bought all kinds of books.  Spanish for Dummies 1-4, Mexican Spanish Phrasebooks by Lonley planet, and signed up with an online school called Livemocha.com.  They are pretty cool, except, I seem to be having problems staying awake while I am reading them.  The online thing is great, but....

4.  I FEEL LIKE A HUGE IDIOT. 

I think this is what has kept me captive to the English language, not allowing me to venture forth into the language that will open up a good portion of the world to me.  Have I gotten too old to learn a new language? 

So, this is me, one week before my in-laws arrive, trying to learn more than cuss words so I can speak to his parents while they stay with us for the next month.  If anyone has any good ideas, let me know.

Change?

Addendum:  This is a paper I wrote for my Creative Non-Fiction Class this week.  I thought it was kind of fun and some what snarky.  Hope you enjoy it.

 

When I was four, I dreamed about the day when I would walk down the aisle, staring into the blue eyes of my intended. His name was Charles, and I was supposed to be his wife, to grow up to add to the population of pastor’s babies.  Never dreamed that change would come. 

            When I turned ten, the innocent fun was over.  I begged him to stay, but with a slam of the proverbial door, and a very steep hill in the setting desert sand, Charles followed my father’s departure into the horizon.  Change had arrived.  I also started my period that summer, making the changes in my bra area that much more prevalent.  Gee wiz…talk about luck. 

            I met a boy, again. A blue eyed god this one, with the voice of an angel and the exotic skin of the Mediterranean.  The other girls thought so too.  I caught his eyes with my own dark looks, but couldn’t manage to keep them.  Not long before he changed his mind too. 

            Love ‘em and leave ‘em became my personal motto.  Love them in a way they’d never forget.  Leave ‘em first.  Most still remember me. At least that’s what Facebook displays every time a new lost memory surfaces to request my friendship.  Did I ever really talk to you people?  I don’t remember if I did.  Hope it was good, although I have doubts on the stimulation of the brain cells with the passage of time.

 I left all my great loves before I was twenty.  Left the blue-eyed best friend I believed to be my soul mate for a cold and indifferent lover.  Stationed in Ft. Jackson, SC.  The arms of the ARMY beckoned me with promises of adventure and change.  Change from the little dust bowl I called home.  Off came the long tresses that branded me woman.  Donned were those beautifully proud greens, backed by the red, white and blue.  Change arrived again as swiftly as the day I signed the papers handing my life to that so-called lover, instead of attending a rather famous, (and very naked) bunny photo shoot in California.  My love for things green dwindled as freedom beckoned me with a tantalizing finger. 

            So I married a stripper in a gay bar after obtaining my release papers.  How’s that for a loop?  On top of the world, living in someone’s kitchen and sleeping on an air mattress.

 On top is how I found him over my best friend, and roommate when I was seven months pregnant with our baby girl.  Baby had no daddy after my night in a cold jail cell.  None of the officers blamed me of course, but they just couldn’t let me smack a guy in such a defenseless position.  Changed my mind about jail.  Sucked much worse than I first believed. 

Back home, hate Ohio, hate him.  Loved him, or the idea of him, ideal perhaps?  Safe in the desert sands again.  Safe and unchanging… except for the life that grew.  One sunny October morning, the biggest change of my nineteen years occurred.  I became Mommy.  Not only did my center of gravity shift, but my name changed in that second.  Regret?   Never.  It’s been ten years since that day, and I have continued the changing process.  Graduated from college, late, but done none-the-less.  Working on another degree.  Amazing for one who flunked out of Honors English in high school. 

Now, Baby two is almost three, and again, I dream of walking down the isle with my blue eyed fiance.  Only this time, he’s got a Spanish accent (although still named Charles), and a promise in his eyes.  The promise of changes to come.  The promise of no regrets, and of a future that only requires me to love.

           

Bridal Showers and Government officials

So here's the thing.  In seven days there will be a bridal shower here at my house, downstairs in the livingroom of my mother.  That wouldn't seem quite so impressive, except that I have changed my mind on the idea, time, and place for the shower about ten times.  Also, significant fact... I wasn't so sure I wanted to have one of these in the first place.  I can't stand the idea of having a bunch of people gather in one spot for the express purpose of watching me open gifts.  It's creepy.


So, my little brain came up with a wonderful idea that combined the words Wine and Festival, and Blam!  here's the Cederberg Wine Festival going on the same day as the Bridal shower!!!!!  Let's think, sitting in a small room opening presents, or wandering through the streets of Cederberg and wine venders and tons of food and pumpkin  carving and all that.  Not to put down the idea of a bridal shower in the customariy sense of the word, and I know that the people helping to put this thing together are just going to have a shit fit, but I really love the idea of doing the festival.  So, Please ladies, forgive me for changing my mind one more time.  Last time this week.  I promise. 

Now, on to the last part.  Today is voting day here in Milwaukee.  And again, I am not voting.  Now, many would yell that I am not being American, and that I should take the  oppertunity to have my voice heard through our officials.  And I agree.  That is exactly why I will not be stepping out to the ballots today.  I have not done any research on any of the candidates that are running, and it would be wholly irresponsible of me to cast a vote on decisions that I have not researched.  On the other side of it, I wasn't aware that elections were going on today.  So, does that make me irresponsible, or just unaware?