Showing an American movie to Mexican Teens

I wasn´t sure if Mexican teens and almost-teens would connect with a movie about boarding school boys in the 50s when I started showing The Dead Poets Society, but they are loving it. It will give us lots to talk about when I bring up Theme next week.

What Ever Happened to Jack McKinney

A massage client who suddenly let me know he was well-versed in my dad´s story and oh, by the way, developed some software that allowed writers to do something that allowed him to read a lot of manuscripts, read my book. He read the entire thing on a Friday night. His poor wife.

But yo, he said he couldn´t put it down. He says I´m doing it all wrong. I need to stress to agents that they will learn What Happened to Jack McKinney. I immediately think of some Manhattan women who have no clue who Jack McKiiney. Those women who work as agents who I have been contacting. Who yawn at my story. So I think OK, maybe this guy, Pat, is right. I´ll try it his way.

To be continued.

I´ve changed the title of my memoir to I Married A Mexican Teenager. My friend, the NY writer Alice Denham, who wrote Sleeping With Bad Boys convinced me I Married... had more of a pick-me-up-from-the-shelf quality. I guess she would.

Dear Annette, I´m writing again...

I wrote a page. I wrote a page. I wrote a page. Twelve-year old Sean is so into her Snoggy, Nuggy Nuggy books about a teenager in England with a nose the size of Jupiter (she read me that part) that I´ve been inspired to look at the YA I started. So I did and then my fingers started flying.

And it was easy.

And it was fun.

And the story is good.

Pant, pant. I´m back.

And it feels good.

PS This space will soon - like when Sean gets home from school - have the correct titles and author named of the abovementioned favorite books. Apologies to the author.

Containing the Jealous Gardener

So my friend Maggi, of Malibu, California built in San Miguel in a gated little plot of ground with a gorgeous view where three homes share gardens, an ancient chapel and a lovely pool. Everything was beautiful until the owners of the two other homes (who happen to be related) had seemingly unbridgeable differences of opinions, and now one or both of the homes are for sale. Maggi wants buyers who will make good neighbors.

Enter Don Jesus.

Jesus identified a spirit or ghost who lived in the area of a mesquite tree on the property, rather peacefully. The problem, he noted, was not the ghost but the manager of one of the houses, whose livlihood would be threatened by a sale. Would he keep his job? Yes, Maggi concurred. Don Mario, we´ll call him, had been less than friendly, since an imminent sale was announced.

Don Jesus´mission was to cleanse the energy around Maggi´s house and minimize the impact of Don Mario´s insecurity. Again, as with the Burch´s house, Jesus opened windows, spread his magic water across the floors and spritzed the air. Then he cleansed all of us inside, including me, so we could spread good energy to the newly uncontaminated space.

My daughter, Carla turns 15 in December, which in Mexico means a quinceaños party. Traditionally the girl wears a formal, prom-like dress and maybe a crown, and she is escorted into the hall by a line of suit-wearing escorts called chambelánes.
Carla´s idea for her own party is that it will be at the equestrian center where we ride. She will wear riding gear, and when she is introduced, ride into the party on Lucky. Her chambelánes will be the grooms who tack the horses up - Ramiro, Chon and maybe Xavier nephew of the equestrian center owner. The idea started out as a joke but lately I´m thinking it´s not such a bad idea.
For the last couple of years, my Philadlephia friend, Amanda and I have been discussing about doing a double quinceaños party for our girls, Carla and Lily. We started this talk when they were twelve and had similar interests. But this summer, it turns out Lily came down from Philly as a designer flip-flop combined with old basketball shirt sort of kid, while Carla´s favorite story of the summer is how she chased down an escaped bull that was housed at our dressage barn for an upcoming Western event. Carla, in other words, is more of a horse gal than ever.
We have until next summer to plan an event, and I´m guessing formal dresses and a sparkling disco ball are not in the picture. My friend Gina, whose daughter went to pre-school and first grade in San Miguel, jokes maybe drive her dressed-up daughter through their western Massachusettes town in a pick-up as a celebration.
I´m open to all suggestions.

A New Meaning to Summer Cleaning

When one buys a house in San Miguel and wants to do everything in one´s power to assure that the city awards a permit to install a garage in the centuries-old structure, what is the first thing one does? Call the local shaman to give the house a limpia and general good luck shine-up, of course.
The house, with its lovely pepper tree-shaded garden, newly belongs to our Philadelphia friends, the Burches. They asked me to call Don Jesus. I´ve been a client of his for years. I see him when I get loaded up with people´s energy after giving lots of massages. A little copal, some general brushing off with an eagle´s wing, some energy moving with his hands inches from my skin and I´m good as new.
Don Jesus twitched, walking through the kitchen, from all the heavy, old energy left in the house after the previous owner´s months with cancer and her death. He said the house had two spirits hanging around. "Not bad spirits?" Charlie Burch asked. "I mean, like OK fellows?"
"You spend the night here and tell me tomorrow," Don Jesus said. He advised the family to light little alcohol fires at 8 that night in the strategic spots he showed them in the garden to shoo the lingering spirits.
After advising Charlie to open all the windows, he doused the floors with tap water mixed with some water he brought in a bottle, and moved it into the corners with a broom. When it dried, he lit little fires inside the rooms on a circle of rubbing alcohol he had squirted. Then he misted the air with another liquid he´d brought.
"Ya," he said, spreading his hands. All done.
"With all the stale energy gone, now the trabajadores will do better work And your family can move in comfortably."
We´ll see if the new energy helps convince city officials to grant the Burches a garage.