The Train

When I was a little girl I would hear the train and have a nostalgic feeling for no apparent reason. I've never been on a train. I use to day dream that I would jump on the train either at sunrise or sunset and go on crazy adventures and send postcards to my grandmother. I knew that oned day I would find the meaning (my meaning) to the sounds of the train.

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Last Friday we went to celebrate our friend's birthday. She was turning 40 years old, and had been fired only 3 weeks prior to today. Because of her, my fiance and I met . . . the rest we did ourselves. I always thought that I owed it to her to match us so perfectly -- or so I thought. We wanted to do something nice for her. Anyway, we took her to a karaoke bar, bought her a cake, and invited a couple of office buddies. We had a blast. I had not seen my man in such a good mood in almost a year(August 11th, was our anniversary). But, by the end of the night I managed to offend him.

Purposely ommiting the comments that were made, I can say this much : we don't trust each other. I do trust that he will be faithful to me, to our love. He does trust me in that matter too. It's just that we don't really know each other that much. We explode with our emotions, so intense -- just like our love. When I hurt his feelings, it kills me. I've done it at least 3 times -- that I am aware of. It hurts. It hurts more to know that I am capable of hurting him, than him saying things that I wish he had not. I am sure that we love each other very much. This man is my reason for breathing. I'd be lost without him. If I don't stay to fight it is because it hurts to see him so disconnected. I fear that he won't want my love. What if we can't change those things that bother us from each other? What if he doesn't love me as much as I love him? We pretty much had an inventory of our emotions . . . and now we are obviously trying to fix these things that we didn't like. I know I am far from perfect, I know there are many flaws to me. I know that I am a strong woman. I know that if he was not in my life, I would be able to survive. But I am not sure that I would be alive. And I mean alive in the sense that I would laugh and love in the same way that I do now. He is my intensity, my raw chunk of energy, my motivation to live. I can live without him, but it would be so sad. I do know that after him, there is not one single chance that I will be happy in the "romantic-love" department. He is the one for me.

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On my way back home, after our fight, I was at a crossroads - literally. I watched the train pass by. It took 7 minutes. As I watched the train in plain action tears burst out of my eyes. Those 7 minutes were so painful. I wanted to be home, with my love. I wanted him to hug me and tell me that he loved me. I didn't care who was at fault. Me, him, circumstances, it didn't matter! What mattered- what truly mattered was that we loved each other. That he would forgive me, that I would forget what was said, that we were going to be together, and nothing would come between us, not even ourselves. And there it was, that awful mechanical thing, rushing infront of me. Taking 7 minutes away from my love and I. A train between us.

I finally got home. I took a shower and went to bed. I had only slept two hours that previous night. It had felt like months away from home. I felt so out of my body. I was not myself without him. Other than a business trip back in June, we had never been apart since our 4th date. Even as I lay there on my best friend's couch, the couple hours my body colapsed in weakness, I dreamt about him. Back in our bed I asked him to join me, to hold me. He held me gently until I stopped crying. We slept. Together, we slept.

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Today, I feel like it was the worst nightmare I've ever had. I still cried a little today throughout the day. I still cry as I write this . . . and as I hear the train pass by, I like to think that it will be a daily reminder of the day that I almost lost all that really matters to me and I will learn how to cherish and protect what I love so much, my love for the man I love. Now I know why the train passes by with such a portent sound. Somewhere in my soul the sound of the train would alert me of this almost tragic day. . . and that is my meaning of the train.

Sweet as Onions

Recipe for RED CHICKEN ENCHILADAS:

You will need:

• 1 lb. of chicken (split breasts work the best)



• 2 1/2 cups of grated cheese (cheddar/muenster add more flavor)



• 1 dozen corn tortillas - thick



• Red chilli sauce (look below for recipe)



• 1/4 cup chopped onions
  
  I argued with my fiance yesterday . . . over onions. I want to slap the back of my head for this. It was so juvenile of me to start an argument over ONIONS! He said "Onions are crap" as I was talking on the phone with a co-worker and I mentioned something about onions. We were both making Enchiladas for a potluck to celebrate a friend's birthday. I ignored him at first and then he repeated it "Onions are crap." I don't know why that offended me so much. He doesn't realize that his opinions have a huge impact on the people that love him so. If he said: "I love veggies," I am sure that his little girl would be more open to try them. She is not old enough to make the right decisions. What child would choose to go to bed early, or go to bed at 11 pm? Take a shower or not? Who would choose veggies over cookies? Water over fruity drinks? Onions or no onions? I've always loved onions, but not enough to start a fight with the love of my life. Let me peel the layers off this topic.

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• Boil the chicken for 1 hr. and 30 mins. Let it coo. While chicken is cooling off, use the time to grate the cheese.


• Once the chicken is cool, pull apart the meat in medium strands.



• Chop 1 onion into small cubes.



• Boil 6 to 10 red chilli pods. It is easier to remove seeds and stem before the chilli is boiled. (This can be found in most stores in the Mexican foods aisle.)


• Once the chilli has boiled, place it in a blender with 1 tblsp. chopped onions, a dash of salt and 1/4 cup of water. Blend for 4 minutes. Garlic may be added to enhance flavor.

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I am so scared of becoming a wife, and possibly a mother. I've always wanted to have children. My future husband has a daughter, she is eight years old. She lives with us. I always wanted to have a little girl . . . but now I find myself running to the bathroom just to have some alone time. On top of that I am really late (like 3 weeks)! I bought a pregnancy test today on my lunch brake. It's not that I don't like my future step-daughter. I just don't know how to connect with her because we are so different. I tried by cooking together or doing activities she likes; coloring, drawing, watching cartoons, walking the dog, etc. But it always seems like it's worthless. She wants to do things her way and boss people around, and I really don't allow her, or anyone, to boss me around. I guess that is what we have in common. I asked her to be my flower girl and she refused. She wants to be a ring bearer with my little brother who is her same age. I'm delighted that she wanted to participate in any way. I was really afraid that she would refuse to be part of it. This is my first wedding and hopefully my only one!! Anyway, I am kind of sad that my fiance wants only one more child. I understand why he wants this . . . a better future for our children and he says that if it doesn't work between us and for some ungodly reason we split up, he doesn't want to have a bunch of kids just spread out all over the country. It really annoys me for a couple of reasons.

• Why would we split up? He is the one for me. The only one!!


• His daughter's mom has two other children from other relationships, but that doesn't mean that if we were to split up, that I would be getting pregnant and have my child exposed to awkward family relationships. I am not in that same category . . . nothing against her. But I am different!


• My future step-daughter is eight and honestly, she will be too old by the time our baby (if I am pregnant or for the future) is older. I don't want our child to grow lonely -- or even worse SPOILED!!!


• We are too different in some things . . . culturally, spiritually, etc. What if we don't agree on our up-bringing of our child?

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• Using a drainer place the red chilli sauce in a container. Make sure there are no seeds or skins from the chilli pods transferred to the sauce. I like to store the sauce in glass containers to keep the flavor intact. For this recipe, it is easier to place the sauce in a shallow bowl.


• Add 1/4 cup of water to sauce. If you would like to keep the sauce lighter, add more water.


• Heat corn tortillas over medium heat. Make sure they are not over cooked. We just need to heat them up.


• Bathe the tortillas in the red sauce. Place tortillas in a 9" baking dish.


• Put some shredded meat and grated cheese, and roll up into a 'taco.'


• Repeat this for every tortilla . . . once finished you can add more red chilli sauce on the enchiladas. This way you add more thickness to the sauce before it goes in the oven. You may just want to lay the tortillas flat and alternate rows of chicken, and then cheese. But if you roll them up, they look nicer and it shows that you took time to cook for your loved ones.


• Sprinkle cheese on top.

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I am so stupid for having all these fears and not voicing them. Instead I fight over onions. I love him so much, and although I am having a difficult time with this precious little girl, I love her too. It's just easier to fall in love with my love, in a different way, every day, than it is to 'fall in love' with her. I don't think she understands how hurtful she can be. I don't think she does it on purpose. But, I need to realize that I am the adult . . . and that she is not my child. I didn't raise her. Her dad and I have barely been together for 11 months. We have been engaged since May 23rd. I am so used to being the princess that I cannot adjust to being the queen. I have jumped into an unknown territory. It's hard, but at the same time I love it. My fiance is such a good dad, I shouldn't be scared to have a child with him. I love him . . . just like onions. I don't expect others to agree on this. You either like onions or not. But like onions, and I love my man very much. I've had many people oppose our relationship. I've stopped talking to so many "friends" that started judging me ever since I've met him. I can count with one hand how many people are actually happy for us. But what do they know? My lovely man is actually sweet, just like the onions. Sweet, tasty, spicy, nourishing, and leaves his flavor after each kiss. Most people would not agree, but they don't know.

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• Place in oven for 10 to 15 minutes at 350* F.


• When ready, take out the enchiladas and sprinkle more cheese on top. Don't forget to also sprinkle the chopped onions. Serve with white rice with corn and a fresh salad, or refried beans. Oh, and don't forget the sour cream . . .

My fiance's daughter asked me if she could stay with me, if her dad and I broke up. I took her on a ride with me on the evening. I asked her if she thought I was mean to her. She said no. I told her that if I seem very strict, it is because I am trying to teach her what I think it's important. Then she asked me if I still wish upon stars. "I do," I answered. "I like to do that too. But I don't like vegetables," she said. I smiled and understood that I might be out of place trying to influence her when she has been brought up in a whole different way. All I can do is eat my veggies and drink lots of water . . . see if it rubs off on her . . . and I cut my onions separately-- just for me.

I never thought that I would be doing this . . . the whole getting married thing. I've always been very independent; and although I love romance -- I just never thought it was real. And for some twisted reason, I believed that MARRIAGE was losing your independence and subjecting yourself to a non-romantic relationship. Something was very, very, wrong with me. I don't even know why, my parents have been married for 28 years and even re-newed their bows a couple years ago so that my little brothers could see them getting married. It's not like I grew up in a loveless home.

I remember being a little girl, in Mexico. My family would get together on weekends and take the children out to the park and then for an ice cream or a movie. Part of the ritual during this outing was walking through a "plaza" surrounded by bridal shops. I had 6 cousins who were all a year or two older or younger than me. I was right in the middle. They use to fantasize about what wedding dress they would wear on their wedding day. I would just freeze. I just couldn't picture it.

Then, one day we were all invited into a new shop to try on flower girl's dress. The owner of the shop told us that it was like wearing an actual bride's dress. My cousins went crazy trying on the dress of their choice. I picked out a cherry-red dress. Everyone was in shock when I came out of the dressing room. My mom laughed and hugged me as my aunts and cousins giggled and commented on my choice. "It doesn't matter what dress you choose to wear when you get married, what matters is the man you choose," my grandmother said.

I believe I have chosen the right man. He loves me, he values me, and he understands me when I don't even get myself. He gave me hope when I had none, he gives me strength, and he gives me goose-bumps every single time we kiss. Above all, he gives me the kind of love I was so afraid to find.

I feel more independent, stronger, and with lots of romance in my life. So now the dress is not even one of my main worries, I already have my perfect fit.