“In a minute…”

“Soon…”

“Um minutinho…”

“I haven’t finished yet…”

“Not yet…”

“No, I haven’t…”

“I will, but not right at this moment…”

“Ok, I will…” (Translation: “Haha! Never, honey!”)

There is an old saying in my country: a dog who falls off of a moving truck can’t find its way home again.

That’s me! I ended up in Seattle.

Where’s next?

Why don’t plants like me?

Bringing them from Home Depot to the apartment in a small car is a big project, frowned upon by my husband, but I still do it.

I take care of them (whenever I can) and I water them (eventually). In exchange, I wish they would stay healthy and green.

I call my mom and my aunts and my in-laws and do all they tell me to do, but they still rebel against me. Now they decide they don’t want to stay straight up. Look:

As time goes by, human beings dwell more and more on the significance of the thoughts that seem to accompany them at each specific stage of their life.

In the stages of my live I’ve dwelled on, wondered and worried about — and analyzed, and over-analyzed —  my obsessions with school, career, sex, love, boyfriends, husbands, the size of a burger, the color of the sky, the sexual life of bugs, being too nice or too bitchy, whether to buy a house or a bike, the direction of the stock market, the fate of the planet, the plight of a far away nation, whether I should eat a salad or a steak, or enjoy some booze or coffee.

Lately, I have been thinking about getting old and dying. And, when you’ve been thinking about a particular issue, you become more observant about how that theme plays out through the life surrounding you at that particular moment. I was having brunch with my husband at this nice bistro by the water on a bright, crisp Sunday morning when THEY arrived. They were a lovely old couple, supporting each other through each frail step. They sat at the table across from us. They possessed that singular trait of two people who know and love each other and will do so forever. They smiled and laughed through the entire brunch, well-pleased with their fresh croissants and warm coffee. And they talked and they listened to each other. Not once did they look bored or at a loss for a topic to converse about. There they were… the antithesis to the surrounding customers who seemed to have become terminally joined to their e-gadgets and oblivious to the crisp morning and to each other.

I wished they could be the reflection of my husband and I down the road… after we are done bugging each other and arguing about who does the laundry or the dishes or how much we should tip the server.

Especially in an urban setting?

This happened recently in Miami, FL and was itself worth a pot of gold:

Photo Courtesy of Emília Campos Schaffler

I don’t know much about packaging but I am sure it’s a big business that tries to use the latest innovations and technology for a cleaner planet.

But I have come across three types of alternative packaging that I want to share.

You may be familiar with some of these.

1 – Sausage in a burlap bag

My sister-in-law from Kentucky sent me this traditional sausage from her region. It’s really good but you have to squeeze it like toothpaste. No, I’m just kidding. The sausage comes out quite easily.

If you are tired of hearing about “organic”, “healthy” foods, check these out:

http://www.broadbenthams.com/

2 – Fanta “to go” in a plastic bag

If you’ve seen the second Hangover movie, you may remember the guy buying fanta in a bustling Bangkok neighborhood. The drink was poured into a plastic to-go bag. This was common in school cafeterias and other establishments in my home country a couple of decades ago.

Note: straw is a must-have

3 – Grinded coffee in a box

I had this amazing coffee in this hole in the wall coffee shop and asked the person at the counter which coffee they used. He told me it was Colombian and that he could sell me some if I wanted. To my surprise, he grinds me a pound into a cardboard box. I had to run home and transfer it into a sealed container.

Note: I am not talking about a sealed or vacuum packed container.

A marriage can be a source of infinite inspiration for not so inspiring, yet funny histories.

The battle involving household chores is a never-ending one. I made it clear to my better half several times that he’s responsible for at least half of the domestic work. Servants are no longer part of the modern world. (And no, we wives did NOT replace them!)

Let’s talk about laundry: they pile up like unpaid bills. To make things worse my husband uses a pair of jeans for half a day and puts it in the dirty clothes basket.

I decided to rebel and declared I was no longer responsible for any laundry – his or mine. I had at least one weapon: I have more clothes than he does, especially underwear.

About three weeks went by and the humiliating moment came: his last clean underwear was gone. I thought he would do a load of undies and move on but he tackled the challenge and did multiple loads until the pile was gone.

Then the giant pile of clean but unfolded clothes sat there for several weeks. Then he started to throw the dirty ones there and we didn’t know which ones were clean and which ones were dirty.

I couldn’t take it! I started to fold them and put them in the closet.

That’s when I realized most of my clothes had shrunk to kid’s size!

My dresses no longer cover my derrière, my shirts show my belly button and my socks only cover half of my feet.

Time for a new wardrobe!

I’ve seen some pretty interesting New Year’s resolutions around.

Some are actually realistic: My husband changed his laptop screen resolution to 1440 x 900!

Some are mind-boggling: I have friends who are lucky enough to not smoke and who are not fat. They had a hard time coming up with resolutions.

Some concern ethics: Telling people about your New Year’s resolution is like a tell-all interview with Oprah Winfrey.