And then. . .

Sopita is a really simple food. It can be found in most ethnic food aisles. Small dry pasta shaped like letritas, semillas de melon, and conchitas, When I was younger, I could never cook it correctly. It always came out under cooked or overcooked, salty or flavorless. Now, I can cook it with minimal effort. I throw onions in a pan and saute it until most of the pieces turn a golden brown. While it's browning, I open a short can of tomato sauce, so it's ready to pour in. I learned to do this after burning the small alphabet and onion pieces so dark I had to thrown them away. It had been a long day, and my last bag of sopita. Sopita is a simple food. My husband doesn't like it. The one time I did make it, as a side to a thin sirloin steak topped with chile, tomate, and cebolla, he looked at the plate oddly. I didn't understand. Now, I rarely make it. Usually, I only cook it when I know that we are having separate dinners. My favorite meal is picadillo con sopita. I mix ...

I like lists. I make them to have the satisfaction of crossing things off once I've completed the task. The lists range from simple tasks like "go to grocery store" to "finish story". I write things down, I have an app called Color Note, which has fallen by the wayside for good old paper and pen, and I have specialized lists for things like the grocery store. Lists make my life complete, at least I think. For the past month, on my list there has been "post on blog" and each time I think, "I'll do it right now." In this case a list has not helped me. The sad part about it is, that I've missed my posts. I miss my inner Carrie Bradshaw voice talking and mussing about things. So the questions is, why haven't I made time? 1. I had family in from Colombia for three weeks. 2. I took a vacation to Phoenix. 3. I got new wonderful job I'm elated to have. 4. I've been trying to work on my chapbook a (tiny) moment in time and r...