How I learned to stop worrying and love the mutt.


 Painting by Casey.

It's no secret I love cats. But I do consider myself solely a cat person? No. The truth is I love all of God's creatures (except for spiders and squirrels, but that's besides the point). I especially love cats, true, but my love for dogs comes just as close. It's just it took me a while to learn this love.

In my defense, my first experience with the Canis lupus familiaris was not a happy one. You see, before I was even a twinkle in my mother's eye, my mother had already had her first baby -- a baby with big brown eyes and a tendency to pant when she got overexcited. Her name was Dolly and she let me know practically the second I came out of the womb that I was not welcome. In fact, my mother loves to tell me about the time(s) when Dolly would stand at the foot of my crib on her back legs just so she could lean into my crib and bark at me. (Gee, thanks, Mom.) To be perfectly honest, I was never that nice to Dolly, either. As soon as I got out of the crib and was fully mobile, I immediately set upon taking revenge on this mean mutt.

Lest ye think I am calling Dolly a mutt as a disparaging slur, she actually was a mutt. I don't know exactly what breeds she was mixed with, but I have to admit she was pretty. She was of smallish to medium size with an orange-red coat and fox-like ears. Her snout was a bit foxy, too, in that it was long. Her eyes were not fox-like though, but those that usually belong to cute yappy dogs, those big brown eyes that practically puddle over with affection. Only hers didn't puddle so much as glare.

Back to the revenge part. How did I wreak my vengeance on this conniving canine? The only way a little girl can -- by dressing Dolly in my doll's clothes. It was poetic justice, in a way, given her name and all. I can still remember the frilly pink frock with matching bonnet into which I stuffed Dolly, her aggravated yips and yowls bringing my parents into my bedroom, upon which my mom immediately started scolding me. My dad knew humor when he saw it, though, and he ran to go get the camera. I still wonder where that picture is... I promise to post it if I find it.

By the time I was well into my teenage years, Dolly and I had made peace of a sort. She no longer stood on her back legs and barked at me. And I no longer dressed her in my doll's clothes, comedic gold though that was. But we were never exactly friends. There was never any love lost between us, and it was understood that yes, Dolly was my mom's first baby, as Mom liked to say. I didn't lose any sleep over this and any lingering resentment had long since faded when Dolly passed away in my 15th year. She was also 15. This was something I never thought about growing up -- Dolly had been born not long before I was and so we were like quasi interspecies twins, if you will. But seeing Dolly fade away at 15, my same age, was a sobering experience that made me question my seeming immortality.

It also made me look at Dolly herself in a different light. She and my mom had the perfect dog-human relationship. They were truly best friends, never far from the other. When one was down, so was the other. When my mom was happy, I remember seeing Dolly's tail wag in sympathetic joy. I realized then and there that this was something I wanted for myself. I wanted my own so-called "man's best friend." I wanted my own pet.

To this day, I've never had a dog like that. My cat Tigger comes close, but I think one day I'd like to get a dog. I yearn for that kind of kinship. We have had one other dog over the years, a Doberman Pinscher that we wound up having to donate to the local police as a K-9 after she decided to try and take a chunk out of my forehead, but that's a blog post for another day... Somehow that experience didn't scare me off liking dogs, though I will be honest and say I probably won't be getting another Doberman Pinscher in the future!

As for what kind of dog I would like, I am not sure. I will probably go to the pound and try to rescue a little puppy. For sure I would want a puppy. Breeds I like are the Papillon and the Cockapoo (the latter of which isn't a pure breed per se but rather a mix between a Poodle and a Cocker Spaniel). But honestly, I know that the dog I select will probably be based on what I feel when I meet him or her for the first time. Even if she's a mutt like my mom's dear Dolly. ;)



Trip to the Salon: $50. Free Therapy: Priceless.


Hair salon in 1950s Florida.
(picture courtesy of Flickr)

Salon, take me away!
Every time I sit down in one of those funny chairs in my local salon, the kind that swivel in place and can move up and down (not that I've tried this out or anything...), I breathe a reflexive sigh of relief. I can feel my limbs loosen, my stress melt away -- I am instantly relaxed. What is it about going to the salon that is so soothing, so therapeutic?

This is something I've been wanting to write about for some time, to try and answer that very question. I should state outright that I have never visited a salon in another state, or country, for that matter. So I can only discuss this based on my experience visiting salons in Miami. However, I've visited quite a few, and I think I can narrow down the types of salons we offer pretty accurately.

Based on my experience visiting salons in Miami, I can categorize the major types of salons into three groups:

  • Top Dollar

  • Ethnic (Cuban, Dominican, Haitian, etc.)

  • Cheap and Sloppy

There may be other types of salons that exist, I don't know. But these are the three that I've visited.


Top Dollar
In Top Dollar salons, you can tell it's Top Dollar because they greet you at the door with a glass of white wine and a fluffy white robe. There may even be rose petals in your pedicure water. The stylists all wear white monogrammed coats that have been starched within an inch of their life, and they are, of course, impeccably groomed.

All mani/pedi treatments at Top Dollar salons come with a requisite hand and/or foot massage, and your hands will literally feel like new afterward. The same goes for hair treatments -- whether your visit is for a trim, dye, straightening treatment, or simple blow-out, etc., you will no doubt have your hair washed by someone with magic hands. By which I mean they will give you the best scalp massage of your life. (I still tingle all over remembering this experience.) Their blow-outs are great, too, and can last for days.

The only downside of visiting a Top Dollar salon? The price-tag! Something as simple as a blow-out can cost a hundred dollars or more. You may be relaxed and sweet-smelling by the end of your visit, but chances are the stress will come right back when you see the bill! But if you want quality and don't mind paying top dollar for it, this is the salon for you. Some great areas in Miami for Top Dollar salons are South Beach and Coral Gables.

Ethnic
My only experience with an Ethnic salon has been visiting Cuban salons in Miami. I myself am Cuban, so this is the salon I'm most comfortable with -- especially since my paltry teacher's salary means I can't afford to visit those classy Top Dollar salons (sniff, sniff). But what my little Cubiche salon may lack in class, it more than makes up in warmth. You may not get rose petals in your pedicure water, but you will get a grandmotherly lady who will give you advice on your latest spat with your mate. You may not get white wine, but you will get a piping hot cup of espresso (which will keep you fueled for the next 24 hours).

While Top Dollar salons use quality products that truly make a difference on your hair, hands, and feet, I find that my Cuban salon's products, while generic, get the job done. And the blow-outs honestly are often just as good. The price also happens to be right -- it usually costs me about $25 for a wash and blow-dry, and $25 for mani/pedi.

The only downside to visiting an Ethnic salon like mine is that sometimes the stylists don't speak English. For example, in my Cuban salon, everyone speaks only Spanish. I speak Spanish, so it's no problem for me, but I can see how it can be an issue if you walk in wanting your hair cut or dyed -- and you don't speak any Spanish. However, this is an easy fix -- find someone to translate for you! One of my good friends is my salon buddy, and she speaks little to no Spanish. In fact, I think she's been picking up more Spanish ever since she started coming to my salon. :) Good places to get your hair and nails styled -- and practice your Spanish --  in South Florida are in Hialeah, where the majority of salons are run by Cubans and other Latin Americans.

Cheap and Sloppy
When you need a haircut that's both quick and cheap, this is the type of salon you will probably visit. They take walk-ins, they don't bat at an eye if you have to leave right away, even if it means leaving with your hair wet. Best of all, the price tag is super cheap. I've seen some places charge as little as $15 for a wash, cut, and blow-dry. (This would run me $30-35 at my Cuban salon, for example.)

It seems like a win-win situation, right? You get your hair washed, cut, and styled in minimum time and you pay a minimum price. Plus these types of salons are ubiquitous and can be found virtually anywhere. What's not to love?

Actually, there's a lot not to love. In my experience, the stylists at these Cheap and Sloppy salons aren't that experienced (I had one lady get her round brush stuck in my hair), and since their paychecks are probably pitiful (how high can they be with such low prices?), they don't show their customers that much care or attention. (Supercuts, I am looking at YOU.)

The Long and Short of It...
Maybe it's different for you -- maybe your local Cheap and Sloppy salon is Cheap and Not-So-Sloppy. If so, count your blessings! Remember everything that I've posted above has been based on my experience. And my experience in short is this: I visit my local Cuban salon every other week for a mani/pedi and to have my hair washed and blow-dried. Each visit runs me $50 plus tip. It's a small price to pay for my happiness (not to mention sanity!) -- I find that after a stressful day, visiting my salon is an instant pick-me-up. I leave the salon not only looking better, but feeling better, too. And that's what going to the salon should be all about, right?

Now that I've given you my two cents (more like a twenty bucks, right? ;p), I'd love to hear what you have to say. Do you go the salon? How often and why? Let me know in the comments!




7 things about me.

One of my new favorite blogs to read is Champagne Bubbles, which I discovered thanks to The Rockstar Diaries. (That's the lovely part of reading blogs -- one great blog inevitably leads to another and another and another.)

The writer for Champagne Bubbles, Camilla, recently wrote a cool blog post: "7 things about me." I thought it would be a neat thing for me to do, especially since I've got new followers on this here blog who may not know much about little ole me. :)

And away we go...

7 things about me
  1. I am a fussy eater. It takes a lot for me to try something new (though I've gotten better), and I don't like it when food runs together on a plate -- I like to have everything in its own place.
  2.  Even though my job as a high school teacher comes up with a requisite 6 AM wake-up schedule, I am a night person, happiest to be awake when the rest of the world is sleeping.
  3. I can only read one book at a time, and if I put down the book for an extended period of time, chances are I won't pick it back up again.
  4. Although I have traveled to the Caribbean, Europe, Central America, and Asia, I have only visited one other state in the U.S. -- California. I hope to rectify this soon!
  5. I have never broken a bone. *knock on wood*
  6. I love playing video games, but I hate fighting the last boss. Which explains why I have yet to finish numerous games like Final Fantasy VIII, IX, and XII.
  7. I am allergic to bee stings. I discovered this in Panama while I was visiting Ricky's family. A bee stung my arm and it immediately starting swelling to double its normal size.

    Now that you've learned a little bit about me, go and post your own 7! Be sure to come back here and give me the link so I can learn more about you, too. :)



    Stretch.

    This has been a very relaxing long weekend. You know the feeling you have when you wake up and stretch for the first time that day? That loose limbered laziness that washes over you? Yeah, I've felt that way all weekend.

    On Friday, I went to the salon with a good friend from work to do our hair and nails. Afterward we met up with my boyf at this Tex-Mex restaurant called On the Border where we had some margaritas and tacos. After saying goodbye to our friend, we went back to Ricky's house where we took a long, cozy nap.

    Saturday was pretty lazy, too. We went to Anthony's Coal Fired Pizza for some yummy sausage and ricotta cheese pizza, did some groceries, and then came back home to watch "500 Days of Summer" (which Ricky adored -- I'm so glad he's my boyf :D).

    Sunday was a so-so day for me. I was down all day, thinking of my grandma, trying to come to terms with the idea that she's gone. It still hasn't hit me 100%, I don't think. But I know she would want me to be happy. So I will try.

    Today's been better. I woke up at around 10 AM, ate some chocolate chip mini waffles, and caught up on my blog reading while I waited for the Ojon to work its silky magic on my hair. Plans for today: shower, blow-dry hair, laundry, grade midterms, go shopping for my mom's birthday gift and a new agenda for me, and sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.


    Picture courtesy of Flickr.

    Lolcat of the Week


    I wasn't liking last week's submissions over at I Can Has Cheezburger that much ... until I came across this one. LOL!

    Have a great week, everyone! :D


    This is my earliest memory.


     I was messing around with my new favorite interwebby toy, formspring, when I received the following question:

    What's your earliest memory?

    And this is what I wrote...

    My earliest memory is something that many will claim I won't remember, but I swear I do. In my earliest memory, I am just a little girl, about two years old. I am at the beach with my family, and everyone was having fun, except for me. Why? Because I am caged in a "playpen" on the sand, in the shade, away from the shrieking laughter of my cousins who are playing in the surf. For my enjoyment I have been given a little red bucket and a little yellow shovel, the two of which entertained me for about five minutes before I decided enough was enough -- it was time to break free of my confines. Using my little red bucket as a makeshift stool, I climb up until I am grasping the top rail of my playpen. Freedom is so close I can taste it! I take one small step ... only to fall face down in the hot sand. Needless to say, my escape was short-lived.

    Now it's your turn! What is your earliest memory?

    P.S.) Want to ask me a question on formspring? Go for it!


    Help Haiti.

    I've been in my own little fog for three days now, but I'm slowly coming back to myself. Something that helped shock me sane yesterday was learning about the devastating earthquake in Haiti. I couldn't help but think, My God, what can I do to help?

    Well, today I found a way to help:




    I just did it and it's super simple. They message you back so you can confirm, and all you have to do is text back with "YES" and you're done. Just a minute and $10 of your time, and you can provide so much. But it won't be as effective unless we all do something. So do something.