25

Today is December 27th.

Twenty-five years ago today, my parents were married at my mother's home church in the small town of Mercedes, Texas.  My mother was 24 and my father had just turned 30.  They were somewhat young and in love.

They may not be as young anymore, they may need to use glasses to read or have to ask "Can you say that again, please?" occasionally, but they're just as much as in love as they were 25 years ago, maybe more.

This past February, my dad took my mom, my sisters and I to my grandpa's house, just a few steps away from the church they were married in.  It was Valentine's Day, exactly 25 years from the day he proposed.  Like the first time, they were surrounded by their closest family members.  This time, he didn't have a ring but promised to have one by the time their anniversary came around.  Instead, he had a large bouquet of pink roses.

Since then, the big 25 has been a work in progress.  The date was set, the location was booked, flowers arrangements were ordered, linens were chosen, dresses were bought and altered.  Finally, all there was left to do was to wait for the day to arrive.  It's finally here.

It's uncommonly early to see Keren up before 9:00 AM, but special days call for special, early alarm clock rings.  It's only about 2 hours before things start hoppin' round these here parts.  Soon, my aunt will arrive with hot rollers, curling irons, flat irons, bobby pins (can you believe they sell those by the pound now??) and the hairspray will by flying.  I'll get started on my mom and sisters' makeup, full sets of lashes, the works.  My dad has it easy.  All he has to do is get himself dressed.  Sometimes I think women should get paid for having to do their hair and makeup.  It's ridiculously time-consuming.

I have to remember to bring the dinner music- all which I downloaded off Youtube- the music for the surprise my sisters and I have planned for them, tissues, the music for the entrance, the music for their big dance...it's just a never-ending list.  Being the first-born daughter is basically the maid of honor in this case.

All that, of course, will be worth it when I see my parents' faces as their enjoying their night.  Whatever crap is happening they don't need to know.  All they need is to remember their love for each other and how rare an occasion this is nowadays.  It's truly a blessing.

Proposal: The Sequel, February 14, 2010

Keren

Moments Like These

It's officially three days until Christmas.

It seems like every year, the days get shorter and the list of things to do gets longer.  The annual Christmas hustle and bustle is in full swing across America; presents being bought, hastily wrapped and put under a lit-up tree.

Everyone says "we need to take time to remember the little things that make Christmas special" but either no one listens or no one gives themselves time to remember those things.  That's one thing I definitely say with all truth I do.  It's not the moments I look under the Christmas tree to feast my eyes on prettily wrapped presents or uncooked dinner in the fridge.  It's the unplanned moments that bring a tear to my eye during an emotional moment in a movie, a lyric from my favorite Christmas carol or even my first memory of the holiday.  That's what Christmas is to me and that's why I start celebrating it before December starts.

While the to-do list may get longer every year, I'm glad this time of year has remained special for me.  It doesn't matter that I might only get one present this year or that it may not be the perfect Christmas, it's the fact that I have a Christmas, that I have a family and close friends to share it with.

Christmas represents a number of things for me- happiness, hope, love, family, laughter and many other emotions I can't put into words.  That's why it's my favorite time of year.  Plus, it's the one time you can get away with a cheesy blog about a cold day and lots of food without being ridiculed for it.

I thought I'd post a few videos of my favorite Christmas moments and explain why they're so special to me.

My first Christmas memory isn't of opening my first doll or anything like that.  It's watching a segment from Sesame Street.  That show was one of my favorites as I rarely watched cartoons or other traditional kids shows.  Apparently, it was only Sesame Street, Mary Poppins or The Sound of Music.  Anyway, I remember watching it and wanting to cry.  I remember not knowing why I felt like that and embarrassed to not know why.  Watching it now, I realize the show managed to capture Christmas at its most innocent- wishing a good friend a merry Christmas and giving them a little something but knowing your wish for them is greater than any materialistic thing you can physically give them.



The next video represents the first twenty Christmases of my life. Having grown up in one church for most of my life and being part of a very active family in that church, Christmas and church activities became synonymous. My dad was pianist and choir director and my mom, my sisters and I participated regularly by singing or my littlest sister playing an instrument. Our family always did something for the Christmas service at church; some years we did everything (wish I was kidding). Moments like these gave me my love for Christmas music and music in general. During moments like these, in and out of church, made my family and I closer every year. This is my dad and little sister two years ago.



I heard this song a few years ago in the car with my family. When it was finished, no one said a word, we just wiped away tears. I dare you to watch it and not cry.



Lastly, I had to post my favorite Christmas song of all time, sung by my favorite singer of all time. The melody is so simple, as are the lyrics and it's sung so often that it can easily be overlooked but that's where its preciousness lies. Every time I hear the song or watch this video, I can't help but get a knot in my throat. I'll never tire of this song/video. It's just amazing.




Merry Christmas,

Keren

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Hello, my name is Keren and I'm a beauty product addict.

Yeah, yeah..."tell me something I don't know," right? 

As I tweeted, I dyed my hair again.  I never thought I'd be one of those girls who dyed their hair ever two months because they got tired of the color.  I thought maybe I'd start dying my hair because of greys (which I already have)...once they were too hard to hide.  But since this past March(ish), I've been doing my hair every couple weeks to keep up with my nearly-black roots.  While my hair isn't nearly as thick as it once was, it still grows like weeds, or at least it seems like it.  Three inches in about five months...is that fast?  I don't know.  So, once I got tired of keeping up with the blonde and the blonder highlights, I decided to go brown, a nice medium brown.  But a few weeks after the initial brown dyeing, it faded to what celebs call "ombre" hair, meaning it's darker at the roots and lighter towards the ends.  The only difference is that celebs pay for that crap.  I just ended up with that.  So, we thought if the brown didn't really take, maybe I need to go darker than before so I end up with the first, original color.  Makes sense, right?  Well, I had a couple boxes of "dark brown" color at home that my mom ended up not using so I tried it.  Of course it took all too well to my roots- they're basically black now- but the shaft/ends are a nice dark brown.  I'm hoping the roots fade a little so it doesn't look as harsh but yeah..."natural" Keren is back.

In other news, I officially feel old, like it's time to really get my act together.  Tomorrow one of my best friends is graduating from college.  That, itself isn't so abnormal.  The thing is that he's about half a year younger than I am.  He wasted no time with school.  I don't know how he did it, but he got through all the necessary classes in three and a half years plus was a T.A. for one of his professors.  Next month, he'll start a job at a local private school as a math teacher.  I'm so proud to have a close friend as a productive member of society but at the same time, I feel like I'm behind.  

I'm not far from graduating but I don't have a job opportunity lined up like he does.  Sometimes I really feel stupid telling people I want to be a beautician/cosmetologist/makeup artist when they ask what I want to do.  They always try to keep a smile like their impressed but I can always tell they're thinking I'm wasting time and money getting a degree at a four-year university.  It's like I'm not practicing what I preach when I say it's wise to have some kind of degree to have something to fall back onto.  That's something my parents instilled in me since I was a wee one but they've already gone through school and when it comes down to it, they won't be the ones held accountable for my life decisions.  It's all me.

I suppose it's just the word "graduation" that scares me a little...okay, a lot.  It represents both an end and a beginning, a wake up call to tell me that I'm no longer a child.

Keren

Choked

In response to Kim's last post, I thought I'd share some stories that involve choking...some that really shouldn't be funny but are.

The first time I saw someone choke was in the 8th grade.  My friend and I were selling pizza on behalf of our class as a fundraiser for our trip to Washington, D. C.  We were in the cafeteria, handing out pizza to 4th graders and making sure everyone had what they were supposed to have.  All of a sudden, we hear "he's choking!" from parent volunteer in the room.  A little boy had been laughing and eating, eating and laughing and then I guess a piece of pizza had gone down the wrong way.  He was still sitting in his seat, coughing but choking.  The parent volunteer went up to him and smacked him on his back- exactly what you're NOT supposed to do.  He stopped coughing; the piece of pizza had lodged further in his throat, completely blocking his airway.  Then he started to really panic.  Poor boy couldn't breathe at all and no one knew what to do (this was before I knew anything about CPR or the Heimlich).  Then, out of nowhere, my mom ran from the kitchen into the cafeteria (she was a lunch lady/kitchen manager at our school for a while) and started doing the Heimlich maneuver on the little boy.  Nothing.  She tried harder but still nothing.  I guess her adrenaline was really pumping because the next thing she tried was something none of us expected...something that totally had me hanging my mouth wide open: she turned this too-tall-to-be-only-in-the-fourth-grade boy upside down, held him by his legs and shook him up and down.  She turned him right side up again and he coughed it up.  Paramedics were called and the boy was fine after but no one moved right away...we were just in shock that my mom was Superwoman with superhuman strength.  Looking back, I giggle, "Damn, mom!"  The woman does NOT panic but somehow always knows what to do.

The second time I was around a choking person, I actually missed it.  We'd just come back from the pool a couple blocks away from my house with my friends Joyce and Gilbert.  I was in the shower, rinsing off the chlorine while Ana and the other two were snacking in the kitchen.  According to what they told me once I was out of the shower, Gilbert was about to eat a banana and was dared by the girls to see how far he could "take it."  Of course, everything was in good fun until the top tip of the banana broke off at the back of his throat.  Needless to say, he choked but never coughed.  Yep, completely lodged from the beginning. At first the girls thought he was joking as a "that's what you get" joke since they'd dared him but soon enough they realized he wasn't joking.  Both Ana and Joyce knew what to do but Ana sprung into action since Joyce is a little girl and Gilbert's a big boy.  Ana has long limbs, perfect for the Heimlich, so she started trying.  After three tries, Gilbert coughed it up and was fine...all before Miss Keren could get out of the shower.  Boys who like boys need not demonstrate on soft food.

Keren

100%

This weekend was amazing.  I'll say that much right now.

An old friend, Michael Callas, came down from New York to give a master class to the music majors at school as he is a Brownsville native and gone on to do some great things with his life, one being a part of New York City Dicapo Opera Theatre.  He performed, accompanied by his pianist, Douglas Han, for the first time at the new UTB Performing Arts Center.  


He came about three years ago, gave a concert and then again last year gave the first master class.  A lot of my friends became friends with him but they didn't know my family and I have had a relationship with Michael since before my sisters and I were born.  He actually went to my parents' wedding in '85.  See, his grandmother and my grandmother were best friends.  They went everywhere together, so naturally, the grandkids knew each other.


Having him in town for a couple of days was so much fun.  Michael's one of the biggest sweethearts I've ever met and talented beyond anyone's expectations...not to mention funny.  I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.


We all hung out at Chilli's, Whataburger and his hotel.  Lots of stuff went down, all super fun.  He's seriously THE gay man I'd like to convert to the dark side.  Haha!  Not to mention he's a baritone...and everyone knows how I LOVE baritones.  ;)


Here's a video a local news channel did on him last time he was here.  Michael, if you're reading this, I apologize for the channel's use of that black and white picture.


Keren


EDIT:  Here are some clips from the concert he just put up on Facebook.  Thought I'd share.  :)


http://yourlisten.com/channel/content/73164/O+Carlo+ascolta...Per+me+giunto...Io+morro+from+Don+Carlo


http://yourlisten.com/channel/content/73163/Eri+tu+from+Un+Ballo+in+Maschera+by+Verdi+performed+by+Michael+Callas,+baritone+and+Doug+Han,+piano