The Maraschino Effect

As I have just learned AGAIN, nothing goes as planned in my life. Many times this is a blessing. In this instance it just took up 2 hours of my life.

I'm back (enter images of The Terminator ).

But no really, after a 2 year hiatus I'm back. I've been wanting to write. Trust me, last summer I thought for sure it would be my comeback to the world of blogging. My original blog was created from my blessings and disasters post 9/11 and losing my mom on that day. It was about recovery, self-discovery, and resilience. With lots of pop culture, marathoning, weight lifting, music, food, and of course the intricate cast of characters in my life. It was about loss and love. Growth. Grief. You see last summer would have been the perfect time post The Great Discard to write again. Because in many ways I went through that same cycle. Shock. Denial. Sadness. Anger. But I couldn't. I wasn't ready. Honestly, I've been ready for months but it just didn't seem like the right time. There was something missing in me. That urge that I HAD to. That it wasn't an option. Like the great F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote:

Out of all the extraordinary things that have happened to me in the past 15 months, it was finding a jar of maraschino cherries at 10:53 last night while taking a break from binge watching season 3 of Stranger Things to eat some ice cream (OMG, STEVE!!) that the voice inside of me screamed, "It's time." Just so you think I've gotten all serious by quoting famous authors and such, here's my nomination for Best Hair for next year's Emmy's.

And as usual, I have completely forgotten where I was going. Oh yeah. The cherries. I had this revelation in my Ewok night shirt and literally all these dots starting connecting, and words whirling in my head. It was time. I wish I could say that I stopped watching, got the Mac Book Air out and started writing. But I didn't. I had to get to episode 7. Priorities. So this morning I woke up with the intent to start again. No need for a new blog, I would use the old one. It has a rich history to all the hits and misses of my life.

Easier said than done.

Ok, do you know how many gmail accounts I have? None of the passwords worked. Finally I got in and they've changed so much and I hated all the new features so I was like, fine, I'll start a new one. Fast forward hours later and here we are.

Back to the cherries.

After watching 4 episodes, the boy (well, more like man seeing how he's now 20, towers over me, has hair long enough for a ponytail and plays the guitar in all of his spare time) was like, "Hey mom, didn't you say you bought ice cream?" I did! And no joke, it was Steve's ice cream (I can't even make this up).

OMG, soo good. Must be in the name. Anyways, I was like I know I have some hot fudge in the fridge. Yeah, no I didn't. Not to worry, there's some in the cupboard. I always have extra of everything. And that's when the Attack of the BBQ sauce happened. As I went through the "extra" cupboard it became quite apparent that indeed there was no hot fudge, or caramel sauce, or even Fluff to lather the ice cream in. What I did have was at least 5 different bottles of bbq sauce which is kind of surprising seeing how I don't necessarily like bbq. Faces of various men plastered on the bottles looked back at me (why weren't any women on the bottles? are we regulated to only syrup?) This was one of those instances in life when you are shocked at your lack of preparedness (ice cream sundaes) and over preparedness (chicken thighs) for things in life. The stuff that as a reader I love to read about. The stuff that as a writer I HAVE to write about. Then I saw it. Lying behind the 6 packs of albacore white tuna, a red glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark cupboard full of Pauls and Stubbs; a small bottle of maraschino cherries.

Sigh. All would be well. I didn't have hot fudge, but I had cherries. Life was good again. We made our sundaes, put Netflix back on and watched the most delicious treat of this summer.

I've experienced this Maraschino Effect so many times in my life, especially this past year. In my quest for hot fudge, I found cherries, something that actually was better though I didn't know it at the time. And they weren't even organic ones.

As I did with the previous blog, I will leave you with music (and as the story of my past year of blessings and disasters unfolds on, just WHY music is such a huge part of my being, literally runs in my blood, will be explored). I've been writing this to Rodrigo y Gabriela Spotify's station. I've seen them twice. They are electrifying in concert. Here I am today rocking my 2006 concert tee while taking the dogs for their daily hike/run.

The song is called Diablo Rojo which means the Red Devil (or clown depending how you look at it) which I find pretty fitting seeing how I know clowns too well. Even to this day I still find those damn red balloons around the house. Like the hot fudge and maraschino cherries, some would say THAT story would fall under disaster. Maybe at first, but the clown turned out to be the disaster and the story that followed turned out to be the biggest blessing of all. Well, it's time for a run (yes, I'm running again, and yes I'm a complete yogi now too). I actually went to yoga this morning but am feeling the need to move after so many hours at my laptop. May you enjoy this music, watch season 3 of Stranger Things and make out with some Steve's ice cream.

#icecream #stevesiccream #maraschinocherries #hotfudge #strangerthings #running #yoga #latina #latinalife #singlemom #dogmom #rescuedogmom #rodrigoygabriela #resilience #blessings