La Misma Luna (Under the Same Moon - 2007)

The movie should probably begin with a disclaimer, "Do not watch without a full box of tissues." When young mother, Rosario, decides to cross the border illegally to provide a better opportunity for her young son, Carlitos, she has no idea of the price she will pay for their separation. Four years, several jobs and lawyers later, Rosario isn't any closer to being reunited with her boy and he is now old enough to say, "demasiado"... enough ... Ridden with guilt, Rosario can't bring herself to marrying for a green card and doesn't know what else to do. When Carlitos abuela (grandmother) passes away, he takes matters into his own hands, paying to be smuggles across the U.S.A / Mexico border with cash his abuela had been saving.

Under the Same Moon is billed as a movie showing the "plight of American immagrants"... as an American, this may be the portion that irritates you a little. As a proponent for legal immigration, it did me. By telling the story through the eyes of a nine year old boy trying to get to his mother, the viewer's heart is instantly taken into the story because love knows no political boundaries. Botched smuggles, misplaced trust, the possibility of being sold into slavery, working for pennies, and in fear of the police at every turn not to mention the things the mother is facing - lawyer's fees, dishonest employers, and the cost of living in America while trying to support the family back home, are all played out on the screen effectively tugging at the heartstrings.

For me though, the question always remained in the back of my mind, "Why illegally?" Had the mother chosen to work in her own country or sought sponsorship she would not have unintentionally isolated her son for so long or put him in danger of trying to find her. The town they were from was not portrayed as a place where people were starving or naked. How can anything in Mexico be improved if the people who hunger most for something better do not stay and get LOUD? Someone will probably read this post and comment on how self-righteous and innocent one can be when born in "the land of the free and the home of the brave". Never having traveled outside of the USA, I could easily agree with that. But, living here, I know that we do not have the International corner on love or honor or culture or education. We just have Hollywood. Living here, I know that "all that glitters is NOT gold."

Brown M&M's

Have you ever purchase the full pound of M&M's just to run your fingers through the candy? The smooth sugar-coating rolling across your fingertips and falling into the bag like a percussion instrument smelling of cocoa... mmm... Yesterday, I shared some M&M's with my little ones. They're a great way to learn colors and counting (although a great grandmother would probably point out the mini's as an even better option for a teaching tool!) My three year old son spontaneously began an alteration to our game - matching. He would pick up an M&M piece, say the color and ask where the match was on the bag. He wouldn't eat it until he found the match. Can you guess which color he got stuck on? That's right! Brown.

There is no brown M&M character to be found in the commercials or on the bag. I remember hearing a bit of a controversy about it... something along the lines of the candy company being racist or something. Of course, there is only one female M&M and she's so "hawt" teens at my high school either ate her on purpose or avoided her like the plague for fear of any additional spur to the already raging hormones. So, what about the brown?

I think it should be pointed out that a brown M&M character would get lost in the chocolate. He (or she) would have to be masked and wear a cape (i.e., Zorro) to stand out from the chocolatey background of the bag. When looking for a picture to post with this blog, I came across an image of the green M&M undressed and it occured to me that all of the M&M's are brown underneath that colorful candy shell. Must be why the Doc and the Wedding Planner tossed the others for artificial health reasons. One way or the other, I think the brown ones keep tune to my cravings for sugar-coated-cocoa percussions just as well as the others in the bag. I can't wait for a purple one to join the crew. Taste that rainbow.

Cake

Chocolate Mud Cake
Carrot Walnut Cake

Yesterday was a cake day. No, it was anybody's birthday, anniversary, wedding, funeral, holiday or any other excuse-to-eat-cake day. It was just a day for talking about cake and eating it. My brother is thinking on getting married, so, of course cake came up. You see, neither of them have a sweet tooth. Sampling cake in a hundred different flavors is the last thing on earth you'd find either of them doing. So, the thought of being required to by some sort of matrimonial expectation makes them both cringe.

I did them both a favor and yanked them off the hook by saying, "Don't serve cake then. Serve fruit and dress it up with a chocolate fountain." I find it interesting that some of us work so hard to fit into the expectations of others and some of us work so hard not to. Weddings can be a tough business. There are whole series of television shows based on choosing the dress for crying out loud! When you look at the heart of the American wedding (in all of its variety), you find people who have been dreaming up the "perfect day" for a long time suddenly pulled to and fro by every declared "must" and "should" spoken by parents, relatives, and caterers. Remember, your wedding and reception are to allow the people in your life to witness an event to remember. It's just to let them know that you want to be married to this one person and nobody had to drug you to get you there!

Cake choices, or a lack thereof, can be very symbolic (or not at all). My husband and I chose a cake in three flavors. Vanilla for those guests with sensitive taste buds, Double Chocolate Chip for my husband, and Carrot Walnut for me. In many ways, our cake represented ourselves and our future. Neither of us is identical to the other. We just don't look at many things the same way. We have our own individual flavors and neither of us has wasted any time attempting to make the other fit ourselves. I'm a lark - he's an owl. I devour books - he devours video games. But we both love to laugh. I guess that's our common cream cheese frosting. We're also both aware of others and do what we can to help where we can. We are always aware of our children and talk about their needs and our responses as parents regularly so we can allow them to each grow into their own flavor of human being.

Last night, my husband brought home two slices of cake from the bakery -- Chocolate Fudge for himself and Carrot Walnut for me. I like that about us.

The State of the Linen Closet

Once upon a time, I watched an Oprah show where she gave young, hot designer, Nate Berkus a brand new set of towels for his linen closet saying, "The state of a person's linen closet reveals a lot about that person's life." I distinctly remember folding towels the next morning - mismatched in color, style, and sizes and threadbare in different degrees - knowing that Oprah was right.

Now, it being Independence Day and all, I could be posting something about the Founding Fathers or the fireworks popping outside my bedroom window, but tonight I went into the laundry room to check the dryer (my oldest child will be marching in her first parade in the morning) and found the entire shelf full of linens scattered on the floor. I'm not exactly sure of the who? why? and how? of this catastrophe. I just know that Oprah's statement resounded in my brain. My linens are, right now, scattered, unfolded, mismatched, and worn out ... what does that say about me?

a) I am the mother of many.

b) I am frugal and will use something until it is worn out completely. (Yes, that means my towels have a future in the rag business.)

c) I accept gifts as they come to me. (The bath towels I received as a family wedding gift are embroidered with everyone's name, mostly too small to wrap around our bodies, and wildly different colors.)

d) I am flexible. (I don't have to have everything folded exactly the same and starched to perfection.)

e) I value relationships more than things.

Perhaps Oprah would disagree with this assessment. I'm sure Nate Berkus' fluffy, white cotton towels are still fluffy and white this many years later. They both may say there is a lack of self-respect in keeping such a haphazard closet and a personal devaluation in not replacing something that is so sorely in need of it. I disagree, and I wonder...

What is the State of Your Linen Closet?