PhotoJournal: Cabarete Thanksgiving Weekend & catch up

Cabarete in pictures. Great way to spend Thanksgiving.

Ok. Maybe this picture doesn't show how great the weekend was but it does show the camaraderie of CMS. Within minutes of our blowout 4 cars pulled over to help! Check me out in the background holding the babes.

Such snugglebuds

Catching up on Pictures

Legra's Law- * 15 * - The Toss

There are many rituals involved in a wedding. Besides the religious rituals, which change among all groups of faith, there are the wedding reception rituals: the best man's speech, the first dance, the cutting of the cake, the electric slide, etc. Among all these rituals is one so scary, so dangerous that some couples debate if it should be done. Stories of sprained writsts and fist fights breaking out amongst guests make the bride and groom think twice about the dreaded "BouQuEt ToSs". The horror.

My boyfriend's brother, Jeff, got married this summer and I was delighted to be a guest. I was wearing a beautiful vintage dress that belonged to none other than my own mother (see picture). I had bought - special for the occassion -the most striking pair of zapatos (shoes) that I have ever hoped to lay eyes on. Vintage art patterned, gold trimmed 4-inch heels by Carlos Santana that I named my "Havanas." I had done my own hair and make up and, if i don't say so myself, which I will - was ssssStunning.

They announced - The Bouquet Toss! My eyes closed in anticipated terror. I had already told myself before this day that I would not participate this time, not at this wedding. The first time meeting many of Mike's family was not the appropriate time to really show them who I was, right? Leave that for later in the relationship. Thoughts running through my mind of fist fights and wrestling moves that I had inflicted on others at numerous weddings. Standing next to a hungry pack of wolves, waiting for the bouquet and the hope that with that catch they would be the next on their way to wedded bliss. Me? I just liked winning the bouquet! It was all rushing back and there was no way I was sending someone to the hospital today...

I told Mike that I didn't think I should get involved in the toss, but since it was his brother's wedding, he urged me on.

"No, Mike," I pleaded, "I really don't think you understand. This has the potential of getting really ugly." On hearing this, Mike pushed harder.

Mike loves encouraging me - it's the biggest reason I love him - and he knew that I could win it (I mean - catch it). He pushed and encouraged like a quarterback coach in the last two minutes of a game searching for the "Hail Mary" touchdown pass from all the way down the field.

They took the "single ladies" ( a term I am sooo tired of hearing at weddings) outside, since the bride was throwing the bouquet from a spanish style veranda. I stood all the way in the very back left corner of the pack of single wolves who were starting to reach up to the sky. Maybe I could just stand back here and no one would notice? I could be involved without punching anyone in the face for the bouquet.

"LEGRAAAAAARR!!!" I turn to see Mike's brother yelling my last name in a touchdown pass making yell. "LET'S GO, LEGRRRAAAAARRR!" (Side note: Calling me Legrar was a joke started when the school that we worked at together accidentally labeled this wrong name on my mailbox. Mike thought it was so funny, he told his brother to make my name card Jennifer Legrar. Mike's brother thought it pretty funny, too!)

Oh no! Now even Mike's brother was expecting me to win it - darn it... I mean, CATCH it. My heart was pounding. Fast. Faster. Harder. I really wanted to tackle the entire group with one pounce, leap over there bodies with one bounce. Images of leaping up, jumping off other lady guests' backs, and running over the crowd towards the bouquet were coming into mind, but I was trying to be a "lady" in from of Mike's entire family. I felt my competitive beast starting to drool, trying to unleash her fury. She was about to throw it. She was throwing it. Oh no! She tossed the bouquet. It flew through the air in slllooooooww motion. Here it comes ......... what do i do?!??!?!??!?!?!?!

BOOM!

Without making a move, not a single move, the bouquet landed at my feet. Not a hair out of place, not the loss of a breath. With the quickness of a hawk, I snatched up the bouquet like a mouse in the night. A HUGE SMILE, a smile of happiness (and gloat) came over me. It was mine. I had won it. You know what I mean, caught it. A calm crashed over my soul. I had my moment. I had my bouquet. But most importantly I had my man.

Moral of the Story: The best things come to those who wait. (And I'm not talking about my bouquet...)

The actual dress, bouquet, and winning smile

Taking It In - Thanksgiving in Cabarete 2011

Video of our weekend to follow blog

This Thanksgiving I opened my email to find a letter from my mom. I love getting emails from my mom because she hardly ever sends them but this one was quite special. This was my first Thanksgiving away from home, and although our new little family (Mike, Rafaella, Olive, Jersey, and I) were living the good life in Cabarete with amazing new friends, holidys always make it harder to be without your family since so many memories of growing up flood in to mind.

My mom's email was thoughtful and loving, reminding me always that we were in her thoughts and prayers. She told me how much she would miss me since this was the first time, since 1980 (the year I was born) that we would not be together but that it was comforting to know that I was happy with my baby girl, husband, and such good friends.

Hello tears! Those flooding memories I talked about - here they come.

Did you ever notice that good memories have the ability to cheer you up or bring you down? It's not that the memories made me sad, it was that this year would bring new memories and THAT made me sad. Life is tough that way. Moving on and moving forward is exciting, but even when great things are happening in every point of the compass around you, moving on and forward can be the hardest direction to take. Though saddened that I wasn't home watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade at my sister's, eating stuffed mushrooms, I quickly knew that my mother's email was not about sadness but about happiness for the life I am living right now.

Later on that evening, I was sitting around the pool with 4 other girlfriends: Sara, LaToi, Raquel, and Katherine, doing what girls do... talking. LaToi, I believe, started talking about how sometimes she looks around and can't believe that this is the life she's living. This resonated with me because there have been so many moments I ask myself, "Are you taking this all in?" These are the times that I look to Mike or Rafaella or even our doggies and can't believe that we are living this life - together - which makes me luckier than most to have someone to share this with. We are so fortunate. "Renting a luxurious villa on one of the most beautiful places of this island" fortunate. "6 other houses full of friends to spend the holiday with" fortunate. "Setting up a family day full of flag football and volleyball" fortunate. This is the life we're living right now. The life that my mom was happy for me to be living. LaToi was right. This is an opportunity and getting this opportunity will forever be a part of my story now. It quickly reminded me of the lyrics from the song that gave me the name of this blog, Good Life by One Republic, "When you're happy like a fool, let it take you over. When everything is out, you gotta take it in."

And so instead of looking at what I was missing this Thanksgiving, maybe it's a better idea to look at all that I have and be grateful for it.

... And tell my mom that next year, we're all spending Thanksgiving here!

Top 14 moments to be THANKFUL for on Thanksgiving 2011

14. We only had 2 tires blowout on our way to and from Cabarete instead of 3. (Props to the Highway Patrol who stayed with us and entertained us for 2 hours - Oscar de la Renta)

13. A massage listening to the rain - real rain.

12. A quiet Saturday morning at what seemed like our own provate beach with my family but specifically the dogs being able to run around like wild beasts (in video)

11. A beautiful villa on the beach to spend Thanksgiving with wonderful friends and a real Thanksgiving dinner - with yummo stuffing.

10. Cabarete Coffee Company - organic, local, and delicious.

9. Mike fulfilling a lifelong dream of surfing (or trying. It was only your first time, Meeks, you will get better.)

8. Sitting with Elizabeth on her porch while Pepito made us delicious fruit milkshakes - just like mom makes 'em!

7. Mike taking the middle of the night feeds to give me a break (one of the many reasons I love him!)

6. Mambo Fish Tacos at the yummy Mexican place

5. My first attempt at making my mom's flan - although I screwed up the first and had to go back to the store to get more ingredients - it was still tasty (props to Miki for coming with me)!

4. Watching our little daughter take her first steps and swim into the great big ocean.

3. Finding out that Auntie Sparkles (in espanol Tia Esparkles [Shayna]) not only loves babies, but loves our baby and our baby LOVES her back so much that she stayed with her Auntie for hours!

2. A huge game of flag football (& volleyball) at the beach with families watching and cheering and knowing that I had a part in setting it up.

1. Taking a nap on the couch with my baby and dogs while sneaky daddy took pictures. (this picture could be a Christmas card to follow - many of you know what that means!)

An American is Born: Part Dos

Short and sweet just like Rafa Rubio.

This year, we've been told, will be a year of many firsts. First bath, first smile, first doctor visit, first words, first steps, first (fill in the blank). When many think about these "firsts", many would not include first passport in that list, but for Baby Rubio it was. It was very important (especially to her Cuban abuelita) that we get her paperwork in order so that our Dominican born baby would also be una Americana.

So here it is, without further ado. Her passport and Consular Report of Birth Abroad. Now there is no mistaking her, mom; she is an AMERICAN who happens to live in Santo Domingo.

Although I don't think that either captures her full cuteness, her original picture on the left made her look like an old man elf. Mike and I were joking that since we were flying in for Christmas, airport security was going to think that she was one of Santa's elves trying to get into Newark Airport with a fake passport. Thankfully, when we got to the consulate they said that that picture was too close and they had to take another. The picture on the right is the picture used in her passport.

Doesn't she look like she's saying, "What? I f-ing dare you!"

Happy Birthday, Jes: una hermana y tia.

Years ago I was at a bar with two friends and we were coming up with the three words that we would choose to describe the other person. I don't remember most of them but the one I do remember that both friends used for me was loyal. I also remembered, at the time, feeling disappointed. What a run-of-the-mill description. Loyal? Like a dog? But since then and through the years, I've thought about loyalty, what that means, where it comes from and how they were completely right.

The first person I remember feeling loyalty towards is my sister, my hermana. To some degree, I probably learned how to be loyal from the loyalty I felt towards her. And this is only one of the things I've learned from having a sister. It has taught me so many things not just about relationships but about myself.

I clearly remember us being at Marilyn's house (my sister's first friend in the first grade but one of our neighborhood shared friends) with Marilyn's older brother who is probably 5 years my elder. Her brother, TOTALLY joking called my sister stupid. I believe I responded by tackling him in the water and just about strangling him until he apologized (for being kidding). No one could call her stupid in front of me, unless it was me.

Another time, I came home hurriedly from school knowing very well that progress reports were due home that day. When I arrived at our mailbox, there was my very expected progress report (I was far from the best student in elementary school). What I did not expect was my sister's progress report (quite possibly the best student in elementary school - showing one of our many differences). I thought about it a while and then snatched them both, took them to my room, and hid them both.

On a few occasions, things would get broken in our house, usually my dad's stuff since he's the collector of everything. He would ask me if I broke it. I would say no and many times this was true. I didn't even know what he was talking about. He would then ask my sister, who also replied that she didn't do it. He would come back to me and ask why I was lying. It obviously could not have been my sister. I would take the blame. To this day, I don't really know who broke it or how it broke but the thought of my sister crying for getting yelled at, pulled at my heart and I couldn't have that. She was definitely more sensitive than I was (there's another difference). I was the kind of kid that would yell back and put myself in timeout. I haven't really grown out of that.

There is something incredibly special about having a sibling and for me even more exceptional about having a sister instead of a brother. Let me preface this by saying that my sister and I were never the kind of sisters that did each other's nails or told each other secrets. We were the kind of sisters that fought like Ali and Frasier but had fun like Lucy & Ethel. We made up games you that looking back must have seemed insane: Roommates, Killer, Mailbox, and The Flying Tromboli Sisters were some of my faves. We made up dances in our garage to Beat It, Rockin Robin, and countlessDirty Dancing songs. We attempted (and failed) the Dirty Dancing lift too many times. Our pool was countless hours of fun. Riding our bikes was never just riding our bikes; sometimes it was bumper bikes, sometimes it was a way to explore our neighborhood. We kept each other busy and entertained through too many places traveling by car or airplane. We hated each other with as much intensity as we loved each other.

I actually remember being upset when my sister first said she was getting married because the thought of Christmas morning without her was too much to bear. I was (am) selfish and not a friend of change, I wanted her to myself, like she had always been. Christmas with my sister was bearable, silly, and quite rewarding. My mom used to work Christmas mornings. Do you know how hard it is be a child waking up Christmas morning and WAIT?! Now add onto that that our Christmas tree was stocked with presents. I mean stocked Toys 'R' Us Style. There were years that presents were stacked on top of each other and the stacks were taller than us. And we were tall girls. We had closets full of games, a garage full of toys. It was obscene. I loved it. So for us to wait was unbearable. But waiting was also fun. We would make up songs about opening presents, we would choose which present we were going to open first, we would divide our stacks - this was says Jessy, this one is for me - which was pointless because we got the same gifts only in different colors or we got presents that were to Jessy y Jenny from Santa. Even Steven...always.

True to form of any little sister, I think I was totally obsessed with her. I wouldn't have admitted it then but I wanted to hang out with her all the time, do what she was doing. Isn't that why younger sisters are annoying? They want to do everything you are doing and you don't want them to. My mom on a few occasions had to remind me that in time, I would be doing the same thing my sister was doing.

My sister and I were always told that we looked alike and sounded alike. On various occasions people would ask if we were twins. People would call our house and never be able to tell who was who. Before I was an actual teacher I would substitute at our old high school, where she is a chemistry teacher (showing another of our many differences being that I am an English teacher through and through). I was walking down the hall getting to the next class on my sub schedule and a Spanish teacher that had both my sister and I waved me down. She asked how I was doing and then told me how great my hair looked like this. I was baffled. Did she really remember what my hair looked like when I was 18? No. I realized afterwards that she thought I was my sister and thought I had done something different with my hair.

Years later, I sit here and think about what having a sister has meant to me, what it has done for me. There was an article I read once about how no one affects the person you become as much as a sibling. They are there through the most important years, shaping your history and your personality without evening knowing they are doing it and without you even knowing it is happening. Siblings show you a mirror of yourself. Sometimes they show you who you could be and who you are even when you don't want to admit it. In so many ways, no one knows you better. Even in our relationship, which as I said before, was not one in which we always shared secrets, my sister still knows me in a way that most people ever will because she has seen it from the beginning. She knows that underneath all of my "crazy" lives a person quite sturdy and passionate and serious in who she is. She knows that although I can be tough as nails, it is usually because I have conviction and care so deeply about something that I don't give up. She knows that my loyalty and love for people runs strong and hard.

And I know her too. I know that although people think I am the stronger of the two of us, it is actually her that is. I know that she is sensitive and that things affect her more than she lets on. I know that while she seems easy-going, she is a competitor and hates to lose. She hates to lose as much as I do; I am just more obvious - well, loud - about it. I know that being soft-spoken doesn't mean she isn't opinionated; she just doesn't always find it necessary to speak. I know that people sometimes confuse being sweet with being naive which she isn't.

The most amazing thing about having a sister is the history that we share an that we will always share. And that is something that NO ONE will ever take from us. No one can erase the years we have spent together, shaping each other's lives, living each other's stories. Because she has been in every significant and not significant moment in my life. Playing school and teaching school. Walks to school and walks down the aisle. Being babies and having babies. There isn't a second that she hasn't been in my life, not one. From the time, my mom was pregnant with me, I have always had a sister and I am very thankful for that. Because I have been blessed with the most gracious, elegant, intelligent, and kind sister to guide me through life. And now, there is a whole new person, new generation that will benefit from having the most gracious, elegant, intelligent, and kind tia to help guide her.

Happy Birthday to a sister that has been through it all with me and that has complimented me. You are the quiet to my loud, the hand to my falling over at a Springsteen concert, the taboo clue giver to my clue getting. We have always made an excellent pair. And I hope life makes sure we always stay that way.

Here's to you, hermana.

Chinola Margaritas and Amazing Women

Ready... (Pic by J.No)

Jump. (Pic by J.No)

Splash! (Pic by J.No)

Sneaky Sparkles

When Mike and I would talk about our move, we knew that we had made a good choice. Besides leaving our family behind, the choice to come overseas was a no-brainer for so many reasons. But how would our idea of living here and our reality match up? When we got here we realized that our reality was much better than anything we ourselves could have dreamed up. Everyone, and I mean everyone was welcoming, helpful, accepting, genuine. And isn't that what family is?

When you are part of something special, take it in and be thankful that you get to be a part of it.

Yesterday, many of the girls from Carol Morgan went to Boca Chica to celebrate Jolene's Baby Shower. A bus was rented where we drank champagne to welcome Baby Collier to the clan (Jolene, of course getting her own non-alcoholic bubbly). I got to spend some time talking to Melissa about her experience traveling abroad (she's been doing this for 18 years!) and it always excites me and makes me sad to hear such incredible stories. (Excited to do the same, sad because it might mean not getting back to the U.S. for a while.) Her stories of visiting Canada for Christmas and having snowball fights conjured up ideas of what Christmas looks like in my mind. Particularly funny was her story about her daughter who, because never having lived anywhere cold (she was born in Africa), refused to put on boots. She walked around in flip flops for half the trip! Like with most things, when you don't always have something, you learn to not take it for granted. I would imagine, it's even prettier than when you have to constantly clean it off your car and shovel it off your sidewalk so someone doesn't fall and sue you. Because they aren't around snow much, snowfall fights become part of the agenda, a must do. Because let's be honest... when was the last time you had a snowball fight?

Mama to be, Jolene

Lovely Melissa

Bus ride with Gamache

Champagne Celebration

Shayna and Kris

We arrived at the restaurant, built on a dock connecting to the water. Drinks were immediately ordered with the majority of the table ordering Chinola Margaritas - passion fruit margs. Spell delicious... C-H-I-N-O-L-A M-A-R-G-A-R-I-T-A.

J.No, Elizabeth, and Ellen

The Great Kris Bumpus

While drinks are a favorite part of my social get togethrness, the people sitting around that table were quickly competing with a good glass of wine. And if you know me, that is saying a lot. A WHOLE LOT. To my left, Courtney and I shared our love of our dogs. How it is amazing how you could love an animal that much. How some people (non dog people) may not realize it, but sometimes a dog is in every memory of your life and becomes engrained in who you are. She had gotten her dog after college and he was with her for all the landmark moments of her life. I started thinking how true that is with our dogs. When we look back at our life, Jersey and Olive lived with us in our first apartment. They are in our Cinco de Mayo engagement pictures with sombreros on, our wedding pictures attired in a tuxedo and wedding dress. They traveled with us to our first abroad experience. They were home for the arrival of our first daughter.

To my right, Shayna and I have become instant friends. Reminding me of most of my friends, Shayna is fun, fun, fun with a side of sparkle and a dessert tray of sneaky. When Jolene started opening presents, I was excited to give her mine, a themed present of ROCKSTAR: A bib and outfit saying, "My Mom Rocks," a guitar decorated onesie, and a mix CD of Rockabye Baby with a collection of timeless rock songs turned lullaby. Where did my bag go? I knew I took it off the bus. I knew I had only had one Chinola Margarita so I didn't lose it. I looked down the table and it was 3 seats down. How did it get there? Was I first intending to sit down there, I thought? No. Eventually I realized that sneaky Shayna took it and hid it at the other side of the table. When Jolene was finished opening presents, Shayna's newest idea involved jumping off the dock, holding hands, for a picture. We decided that holding hands wasn't the smartest of ideas, but cannonballing definitely was. And so we did! Once in we decided to swim to the resort next door to see if we could find a volleyball for the net in the water. Once we secured the ball, we called over the others for a 4 on 5 game. Interestingly enough, Jolene, about 7 months pregnant was the best player that day... at least I think so.

My rockstar onesie

Shayners

After a little while of playing, Noreen announces that she has lost her wedding ring. Immediately, my mind goes to the story my mom has told me of my grandmother's wedding ring getting lost in the ocean, never to be found. The game was stalled and 9 women are in the middle of he ocean, feeling around the ocean floor looking desperately as if it was there own ring that had been lost. We tried searching in a grid, lining up and combing the sand, a stranger even joined our search. I went over to borrow snorkeling gear and brought back the snorkeling dude who helped us. We searched for what seemed like forever. I, usually a great finder of things, was pessimistic about this. But many others stayed optimistic always, "We're going to find it." A group of about 7 guys came out to the water to play volleyball and at about this time Noreen, realistic but I'm sure sad, announced that the search was over. "Thanks guys, but we're not finding it. Let's go have some cake." And just when we thought the search was over, snorkeling dude comes out of the water like a tiburon and shows me a shiny ring. I screamed in disbelief, jumped on him and hugged him and then every other woman did too. Snorkeling dude was covered in bikini wearing women. And then as if the celebration wasn't glorious enough, the volleyball players joined in. There was an eruption of celebration like no other celebration I've ever seen. It was like we all felt the loss of that ring and were just as invested in its being found. And as if nothing happened, snorkeling dude was gone with no expectation of being rewarded. Maybe being part of someone's forever story was reward enough.

On our bus trip back, Shayna decided on karaoke. Eventually, I joined. From Gaga to Christmas, we were trying to get karaoke started. A great moment was the bus driver, who after having no idea what we were singing for a half hour and probably asking himself what he had done to deserve this, heard "Feliz Navidad" come on. I said to him, "You know this one, right?" We put the microphone to his mouth and he serenaded us with his accompaniment to the classic Christmas song. Beautiful! My favorite moment was when we played, "Jolene" a Dolly Parton classic remade by Vikki Martinez and serenaded mama Jolene. Yeah, I'm sure this has never happened to her before!

Karaoke or something like it

It was an amazing day for me. I finally felt like I was getting back to normal. Amanda said, "I knew when I met you, pregnant and all, that you were in there." And she's right. Pregnant Jen was still a powerhouse but in a different sense. Parts of me were packed away like sweaters in the summer. I was me, always me, but toned down and more careful. I had to be, it wasn't just me that I was thinking about. But yesterday, made me feel like me again. And what a wonderful group of ladies to share it with.

As I looked around the table, I was thinking that when you are part of something special, you have to take it in and be thankful that you get to be a part of it. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.

Although I didn't get to spend time with everyone, this was written for amazing women whose stories I would one day like to know over a vodka sprite with Chinola and lime drink. (Yep! I made that up on the spot and it was delish) : Jolene, Shayna, Melissa, Courtney, Gina, Laurie, Amanda, Raquel, J.No, Elizabeth, Mary (who got up and danced with me to "Eye of the Tiger" on the bus), Sara, Kris, Jaymin, Ellen, Diane, Noreen, and Katherine, Giselle, and Laura. And Julia, although you couldn't be with us!

All hands on deck for Baby Collier