Demasiado Frio

No Snow Day, today, schoolmates. It's a Cold Day. That's right; school is out for the cold, and the hard pack snow on Cuke County roads. The last substantial snow was Saturday. Since then we've had single digit temperatures that won't let salt or radiant sun do the job on the snow. Yesterday Opa Suave and I took to the streets and highways inspite of the conditions. The weather heads were right on the money; there wasn't a single stretch of road in decent condition. Hence, this is the second day of school closings.
Sunday, the list of church closings was longer than the "bar" listings in the Hamtramck yellow pages.
What with all the school and church closings, it is still amazing to see parking lots full at "non-essential" stores like the appliance stores and such. Gotta have a certain attitude to ignore warnings and take your ton or so of sheet metal out onto the ice at great speeds in order to shop. Just me.
The paperboy has delivered his bundle of propaganda throughout this blizzard like a mailman. Sunday, I was so inspired by his timely delivery during a painfully cold dawn, that I called his home and told his momma. Here's to the paperboy delivery guy fellah. They don't raise 'em like that anymore.
My brother's and I were paperboys. We speak a certain language. We get it. I'm am sure Casi Italiano and Periodista are both staring at their monitors right now, nodding in silent understanding. Hey guys, remember the costumer that never tipped but would call home and tell Mom what great paperboys we were? "May Sunday's paper land on his roof" we'd say. "Compliments don't pay for braces" Pops Suave would mutter. "Tighter then a Dutchman" Granny would add, never suspecting that one of hers might one day betroth someone of the, shall we say, Dutch persuasion.
Ah, the days of hand-held news. We delivered in all elements, to folks of all races, creeds, and gum diseases. Look at us now.
Here is to all you hardy folk out there, like our newspaperboy guy, that serve us regardless the weather or thriftiness of those you serve.

Con mucho respeto,

P. Suave

Blizzard '07

Saints alive! It's snowing like it's paid to, and all that. Aunt Nina's furnace was snuffed out by 10:00 a.m., at the beginning of a day-long white out. It is 4 degrees in Cuke County, which should be the high for the rest of the weekend.

We left the Casa Suave once, in order to take Opa to the Red Hot Pickle for a burger and fries. That was mid-day, and the one mile round-trip was a white nuckler. Even A-Pain Avenue had ruts.

Cogiendole suave,

Peppy

Un Cuento

The entire Cuke County Community (called "Triple C", or "C Cubed", depending on what side of the county you reside) awaits the arrival of Pepinoville royalty, the Pepino Chicks. Bob the Gorila's Yippee Skippe Warehouse of Whatever has informed us that the P. Chicks have landed at the county airport, and are on their way home in the Pepino Express ll.
As we wait, we share with you the story that Blessed Breading's sixth graders crafted in Spanish class today:

Hay tres animales, un elefante, un gorilla, y un penguino. El Elefante come penguino nuggets. El gorilla come helado chocolate. El penguino come un waffle. Tres caballos caminan por el pueblo. Se sientan en una piedra grande. Los caballos cantan, "You Are My Sunshine". El elefante, el gorila, y el penguino gritan, "!Yikes, los caballos cantan!", y corren por Snap Finger Heights, Idaho.
[Translation: There are three animals, an elefant, a gorila, and a penguin. The elefant eats penguin nuggets. The gorila eats chocolate icecream. The penguin eats a waffle. Three horses walk toward town. They sit on a big rock. The horses sing, "You Are My Sunshine". The elefant, the gorila, and the penguin shout, "Yikes, the horses sing!", and run to Snap Finger Heights, Idaho.]

We hope you enjoyed the tale.

Un lector,

Profesor Suave

Blog Log ll

Wow. This Blog Log thing is really taking off. The Bob the Gorilla Warehouse of Yippee-Skippee Yadda-Yadda is being inundated with calls, faxes, and smoke signals for more of Pepino Solo's daily goings-on. No football on the tube today, one guesses. Here goes:

1. See yesterday ('cept a pinch of churchen added. Sunday School rocked. We made surprised faces and said, in wonder and in unison, "ooooooohhhh!", to demonstrate an epiphany).
2. Rinse and repeat.
3. Then the neighbors Peloteros, sent over some hot soup. Two kinds, potato and cheese, were hand delivered by the young Peloteros, Atleta, and Chica Americana. Fantastic timing, as the author of these words was just about to pour milk on a bowl of GrapeNuts. I no sooner thanked the young'uns than I opened up the whipped cream container of Potato soup and went to town. Man, it was good. I was so enthused, I moved to eat the soup in front of the bay window, in case the neighbors wanted to see for themselves how much I was enjoying the soup. Weird but sincere. Delicioso. Many thanks, Peloteros. You got my back. I got yours (better keep a hand on your wallet Mr. Pelotero Pepino pickpocket.).
4. Watched Joe Crocker sing, "Get By (with a little help from my friends)" on YouTube. Ever wonder how fickle fame is? Simon would of booted the fellow Englishman in the first round and made fun of his looks, no cabe duda.

Florida update: Li'l Pepina called to report that she held a 3 foot crocodile in her lap this afternoon. Thanks for watching my kid, Pops. I always felt safe while you raised me. Come to think of it, I rode on the handlebars of speeding Harleys, played in streets and alleys, rode a bike without a helmet, rode in the backseat-facing backwards sans seatbelt of a station wagon throughout childhood, shared an orange bedroom with two brothers and lots of sharp corners, inhaled smoke second-hand, stepped on a crack, so on and so forth. Makes a crocodile in the lap of a child seem so innocent..
Pepina seems to be enjoying herself, as well. Check out her blog. She hasn't written anything in days. Girl's got a life...She is watching the Grease audition show tonight. Wish I could watch her face. I might take a picture of her Grease Face one day for this esteemed blog. Nothing like her Grease Face. Watching her watch a t.v. show is worth a million clams. She views t.v. with passion.

Vuelo solo,

Peps

Blog Log (Debut)

As promised, Pepino Public, the worlds first pickled Blog Log:

1. Awoke
2. Checked for paper.
3. Went to the lavatory.
4. Checked for paper.
5. Fed cat and "dug for chunks" in cat's litter.
6. Heard a noise outside. Checked for paper.
7. Turned on computer, checked for paper as it booted.
8. Retrieved paper and saluted paperboy as he trudged up the street.
9. Read said paper as I ate Golden Grams knock-off. Aldi's brand, I think.
10. Put on paint clothes (my play clothes inside-out).
11. Painted
12. Painted some more.
13. Missed a spot.
14. Cleaned up
15. Off to YMCA. Watched VH1 show about entertainers as young as my students as I jogged on a treadmill. Didn't get anywhere.
16. Showered.
17. Entered Meijer Thrifty Acres to by stuff for the week.
18. Went to Menard's to buy more paint stuff.
19. Returned home
20. Ate GrapeNuts while watching YouTube. I focused on George Carlin religious bits tonight. My favorite is his compacting of the Ten Commandments into Two Easy To Remember Commandments ("Moses could of carried 'em down the mountain in his pocket, for Christ's sake!").
21. Wrote this/am writing this Blog Log about the day in the life of a Pepino whose family is sunning in Florida.

To our Florida readers: if you see Pepina or Li'l Pepinita, give them my best. So does La Gatita (we strive to protect our pet's anonymity), the fiercest feline in all of Cuke County. That cat has been running around this place like she's smoking the cat nip. She ran down the hallway as fast as she could, jumped onto the rug, and slid into the door. I woulda' paid to see that again. She won't repeat the feat.

El gallo pinto no pinta; el que pinta es el pintor,

Pepino Solito

En Rumbo

The Pepina Chicks are en route to warmth. They've taken the last airplane out of chilly Cuke County for sunny Florida, winter home of Bompa and Grandma Sauve. Pepinita is so thrilled, she isn't concerned about rain in the tropics. There's always the Shell Factory, she claims.

I picked her up early from school. She stuffed a note in my pocket. I read it after she left. It reads:

Dear Dadyo,
I reaeaeaeally [sic] miss you. I wish I could sqert [sic] yuo with a bumper bowet [sic] sqert [sic] gun in a bumper bowt [sic, again]! I hop [sic, last but not least] you have a good time without me.
Love,
Talea
P.S. Please write back!xoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo(the "xo" pattern continues throughtout an entire page 2)

As I write these words, the Chicks Pepino fly over miles of U.S.A on their way to Papa/Mama Suave's sprawling winter play land complex, replete with horseshoes, shuffles and accompanying boards, pools, miles of paved golf cart highways, and weather to write home about.
Something of note: Their arrival will immediately lower the average age of Florida folks from 78 years, 5 months, to 78 years, 4 months, and two weeks. Pass that on. No charge. Keep your wallet in your pocket.
What does a humble Pickle do while the lasses are gone? Well, I just finished watching 45 minutes of Stevie Ray Vaughn clips on YouTube, after scrapping ice off the drive, eating a salad while reading the Pepino Press, and am now planning on watching the Comedy Channel until I get the urge to stare at my eyelids. Maybe I'll do a weekend log on the blog. A log of the single pickle. Pepino Solo.
Stay tuned.

Ando solo,

Peppy

Grannyism: "The Dickens"

La Monja gifted us this picture. It could be a picture of Pepinoville today.

It is snowing like the dickens here in bucolic Pepinoville. Chicago beat the dickens out of New Orleans tonight (New Orleans previously had the dickens beat out of them by Hurricane Katrina).

The dickens Granny used when she couldn't easily come up with a standard unit, but she was emphatic that it would be a big unit, indeed. Examples:

"I beat the dickens out of that rug, and it's still full of dust."

"It's (raining/snowing/sleeting/other act of God) like the dickens."

Feel free to use this Grannyism, or any other, as Granny neglected to copyright her modismos. They are public domain. Use 'em like the dickens.

En mi humilde memoria,

Pepino Nieto

Hace Frio

This week, the good people of Pepinoville are distracted from their constant concern about global warming. It has been colder than the dickens (Grannyism. Look for it in a near future entry) in and around Cuke County.
Cold weather brings an interesting phenomena to the hallways of the schools. I like to call it the Snow Pants Shuffle. It is the sound of nylon against nylon as kids swish through school, leg rubbing against leg, creating static electrical charges that could fuel the school, if harnessed. The climax of the SP Shuffle is the contorted gymnastics most kids endure in getting out of or into their snow pants. Nothing like standing at my doorway watching kids struggling with their winter wraps as they gossip with each other. A millions times more entertaining than America's Funniest Videos, a Suave Family tradition.

Me pagan por eso,

Profesor Suave

Cuatro Rincones

I have avoided Four Squares like a plague. Four Squares, I always believed, was in the Hang Man league of games-that-are-fun-but-don't -teach-anything. Educational cotton candy. Time fillers. Empty calories. Down time. Yada. Yada.
Anyway, my dear charges at Bob the Gorila's Home for Wayward Skateboarders were treated to a different Spanish teacher last year while I was away reforming the Mexican educational system. Seems the beloved Sra. Alfonsina indulged the students in the black-listed Four Square competition on many occasions. My kids insisted it was fun, safe, low in calories, and why not play it. This plea was heard by my elfantin years 465,987.098 times over the last semester, more or less. I finally relented. The flesh is weak.
I tweaked the rules to the game by re-naming the corners (rincones, accent over the "o" can be applied by magic marker, as I can't do it with this key board and my limited tech skills) with Spanish vocabulary that we are going to need for the next class story. I pull a stick from the stick jar, and the kid whose stick it is (why, the sticks are numbered!), goes out into the hall way. We run for a corner, all of us, while chanting, "!Vaya,vaya, vaya!" ("Go, go, go"). When we are all in a corner of our choice, pushing and shoving like businessmen on a crowded elevator, we shout, in unison (sounds like the way the Ed McMan always shouted, "Heeeeeeeeere's Johny!),
"?Queeeeeeeeeeeee rincon?" ("Whaaaaaaat corner?"). Our friend in the hallway, without looking in on us, shouts the name of one of the corners. If he/she/it calls your corner, ya'll gots to sit down. !Rayos! (either, shoot, darn, snap, drats, or oh man. You pick).
By the time the game was over, the students had shouted/listened to the new vocabulary a few dozen times, atleast. They didn't even feel like they were learning.
Well, good citizens of Pepinoville, there's your tax money at work. Stay tuned for a review of our latest class story, a culmanation of four mini-stories, in Spanish, of love and loss.

Progreso para el futuro,

Profesor Suave

Galletas

On behalf of Li'l Pepinita and the Girl Scouts of America, buy some cookies. I highly recommend the short bread if there's milk in the house. If not, thin mints are a good option. Post your cookie requests on "comment" below. Our li'l Girl Scout will be in touch...

Te doy una galleta,

Papa Suave

Pepinita's News

The hottest new blog in the blogosphere is right at your fingertips. Li'l Pepinita has launched her own electronic journal : Pepinita's News. This log of things Pepinita is located at:
www.pepinita.blogspot.com, or double click on Pepinita's News under "Pepino Picks" on the side bar at right.

Un padre orgulloso,

Papi Pepino

Presidential Fly Over

Twenty-one F10 Fighters flew over town, concluding President Gerald Ford's burial ceremony. The squadron flew up-river, just above the lingering smoke of the armed salute. As the 21st plane broke off and soared straight into the clear, golden dusk, the crowd standing with us on the Leonard Street bridge watched in hushed reverence (except the young lady in the Honda honking at the stopped traffic. Late for a hair appointment, apparently. We all hope she got there in time. Sorry for the inconvenience.).

Thanks to our friend, La Contable, for the picture.

Un humilde ciudadano,

Pepino Suave

La Patriota Tia Nina

The following was received early this morning by the Bob the Gorila Editorial Board. It is an unedited message from our incredible Great Aunt Nina, Granny's Mom's cousin-in-law. Aunt Nina is the fastest 88 year-old on the face of the earth. Among her many achievements is her service as a W.A.C., with her sister, during World War II. She is also a long-time supporter/former leader of the Girls Scouts. To list the rest of her activities, honors, awards, and good deeds would take several entries, so stay tuned for more about our heroe, Aunt Nina.
Here is what she had to say about her first hand experience of the arrival of the former President Gerald Ford's casket and entourage to Grand Rapids last night; typed all in capital letters as all of Aunt Nina's correspondence is sent:

I WATCHED THE FORD FAMILY BOARD THE PLANE IN D.C ,, THEN HEADEDDOWNTOWN GRAND RAPIDS... PARKED IN THE WESTMINISTER CHURCH PARKING LOTAND WENT IN AND ASKED TO PARK THERE FOR THE DAY... WALKED MONROE MALL TO THE MUSEUM.. THEY HAD TOLD US THAT THE VETERANSWOULD LINE PEARL STREET... WHEN I GO THERE .. THERE WASN'T A VET INSIGHT.... SO I JUST WALKED ACROSS THE STREET AND STOOD IN DAYS INN YARD..SURROUNDED BY LOTS OF PEOPLE BEHIND A FENCE.... THEN THE BOY SCOUTSMOVED IN.. THINK EVERY SCOUT IN MICHIGAN WAS THERE.... WE WAITED ANDWAITED... WIND WAS BLOWING BUT THE CROWD STOOD CLOSE AND SO I WAS NEVERCOLD....SOME ONE THAT LIVED NEAR THE MUSEUM SAID THAT JUST BEFORE SHELEFT HOME.. THAT THE PLANE WAS 45 MINUTES LATE LEAVING D.C... SOOOOOOOOOOOOO IT WAS AFTER FIVE WHEN THEY ARRIVED.... ABOUT 6... WESTARTED TO MOVE IN FOR THE VIEWING... AGAIN,, THEY TOLD US THE VETS HADBEEN ON THE MICHIGAN ST BRIDGE AND WOULD GO AHEAD OF THE SCOUTS,,,, ANDTHEY DID.... SO I WAS STANDING AT THE EDGE OF THE STREET AND APOLICE OFFICER SAW ME... HAD ON MY LEGION HAT ,WHICH HAS MY WAAC EMBLEMON IT... HE SAID WAIT A MINUTED ,, YOU COME RIGHT IN HERE BETWEEN THESETWO SCOUTS... NOW GUYS TAKE CARD OF HER.... SO FOR AN HOUR OR MOVE WECREPT ALONG TOWARD THE DOOR.... A LOT OF THE SCOUTS DIDN'T HAVE ONJACKETS... SOME WERE VERY COLD BEFORE WE GOT INSIDE... IT WAS VERY QUIETONCE INSIDE... WHILE I WAS WAITING A YOUNG MAN ASKED WHAT THE EMBLEMON MY HAT WAS AND WHY I HAD ON A LEGION HAT... WE EXCHANGED A FEW WORDSAND HE LEFT... IN A FEW MINUTES HEW AS BACK WITH A REPORTER ANDPHOTOGRAPHER.. I HAD SEEN HER ON THE NOON NEWS... WE CHATTED AND SHE SAID IT WOULD BE ON THE EVENING NEWS... NOT SURE IT WAS ,, I WASN'THOME YET... SO THAT WAS MY DAY AND I MET LOTS NICE PEOPLE AND WE ALL AGREEGERRY FORD WAS A NICE MAN...... LOVE TO ALL MOM, NINA ,, AUNT NINA ,,WHATEVER FITS.

Es nuestra tia,

Pepino Orgulloso

El Recien Llegado 2007

!Bienvenidos 2007!

Les esperamos mucha prosperidad,

La Casa Suave

El Antiguo 2006

!Adios 2006!

Que Dios les bendiga,

La Familia Suave

Fortress of Commerce

No entries since Christmas as Pepino Suave accidently snipped the phone wires while excavating the Casa Sauve basement. . No problem, as we had already planned an overnighter on the other side of the state. Sister Monja and brother Casi Italiano both hosted us in their respective abodes over the course of two days of eating, playing table games, and eating.
As we returned to Pepinoville today, we passed by the oasis of marketeering: the outlet malls. After miles of midwest, midwinter fields, barns, and greyness, the Pepino Suave Express II turned off the interstate and into the Fortress of Commerce. I dropped the Pepina Chicks off at the Children's Place outlet, and doubled back to the gas station to fill up the PS Express II. Upon returning to the Bastion of Bancruptcy, my savvy and spendthrift family had made the following purchases:

1 package socks
1 Martin Luther King big book, Spanish edition
1 baby bib set (for new baby of friends)
1 outfit for Li'l Pepinita

I am blessed with a dear Dutch wife.

Super tacano (you put the tilde over the "n"),

Peppy

Feliz Navidad

Merry Christmas.

Paz y amor,

La Familia Suave

Soft-Boned Sibling Ode Part 2

Late last night, while sugar plums danced in Li'l Pepinitas dreams and Santa was leaving merchandise in parlors throughout the county, the Bob the Gorila Editiorial Board was alerted to the fact that a very important La Monja mishap was left out of Saturday's La Monja Mishap Montage (commonly, "Triple M").

Once Upon a Time...

(or, "The Part That Was Left Out the Other Day")

As a wee lass, La Monja munched on a hot dog. The wiener somehow bypassed her Chiclets and lodged in her wind pipe. We, her valiant brothers, half-panicked/half busted a gut watching our little sister turn deeper shades of blue by the second while we ate our potato salads. Her eyes bulged like those on the dead fish lying out front on the Lake Erie shoreline. Opa Suave, ever valiant and ready, swept into the gaggle of his offspring, as best a 300 pound man can sweep in, scooped up his little princess, tipped her upside down and held her ankles like a trained pediatrician, and whacked her little back like he was paid to (tip of cap to Aunt Nina). The frankfurter shot out of her little larynx like a missile, made a screaming b-line for the far end of the room, ricochet off the ceiling and rendered one of Granny's lamps useless. Li'l Monja sucked in air like a surfacing oyster diver (first thing that came to my mind. Actually, the second. The first was reference to the time Casi Italiano fell from a tree while we played Cowboys and Native North Americans Decendant of Asian Emmigrants No Offense and he landed flat on his belly. He forgot his name for half a day, and couldn't catch his breath; sounded like a stuck donkey. Another story, another day. See why I went with the oyster diver?), and started giggling like she had awoken in the middle of horseplay with her Daddy. Dinner continued as if a fork had dropped.

Back to your Christmas dinner, now.

Olvidadiso,

P. Yuletide Suave

La Noche Buena

Peace.

Con amor,

La Familia Sauve

Ode to a Soft-Boned Sibling

Greetings to you this, the Eve of Christmas Eve. Pepina and Pepinita lie snuggled on the futon, next to an unlit fire, in front of a glowing t.v. screen emitting scenes from "The Sound of Music", under the faux-wood beams of the Sala Sauve. I sit on the other side of the Suave compound, the East Wing, in front of a glowing computer screen emitting these parsed words, under a framed black-and-white of my brothers (Periodista and Casi Italiano) and I dressed in our snow suits and boots playing in a 60's era snow drift. We had snow drifts back then, pre-warming of the globe. Technically, sis La Monja was in the picture, as well, buried by her beloved brothers in the snow drift. She was always fun to play with, like a mouse is to a cat, or three.
Yes, these holidays give the Suave siblings a chance to look back to the good ol' days when we lived under the same roof, within the same half-acre, blessed with a vulnerable, easily manipulated, relatively light younger sister. We look back on pictures of yuletide past, and invariably find our youngest sibling wrapped in bandages, or pock-marked with bruises, or buried in sand, snow, or other material, smiling wanly in an attempt to feign enjoyment. She put an "s" in sport. Tortured sport.
To this day we enjoy provoking a wince from La Monja by merely moving a limb. Ever game, even as an adult, we have witnessed her don roller blades to blaze down Pepinoville's steepest avenue, only to stop herself with her face on a lawn. Asked if she was all right, she managed, "Don't touch me," in a breathless command, and remained curled up on a strangers damp front yard for a good while, muddy faced.
She has launched herself over Li'l Pepinita's baby stroller, and landed on the same face on a shopping mall's asphalt parking lot.
At a cousin's house, she bounced so enthusiastically on an exercise super-ball, she managed to carpet-burn that same face and incur a mild whiplash, to boot.
She accompanied Pepina and I road biking in Idaho a few years back. Hers was the bike with the handle bars askew, discovered thanks to La Monja's test piloting the drunken vehicle down ten miles of rocky Idaho trail. That same face kissed the trail several times, once hitting a flat rock so squarely with her mug, I thought for certain she wouldn't walk again, dead or alive. She did walk again, straight into a hospital with a head to foot poison ivy rash she contracted from missing the road at times, and falling into the brush.
This season, as we gather together my siblings and I, we'll see if La Monja is game for some snow boarding. Or maybe a snowball fight. Snow football?

Un hermano fiel,

P.S.

Sin Verguenzas (You put the dots over the "U")

I went to the YPCA for a workout yesterday.Yea, cucumbers workout; cool cucumbers, especially. Anyway, I didn't even get into the building when my pulse began to rise. I watched as a group of young men jumped into a van parked in a handicapped parking space. They didn't just jump into the van, they ran, pushing each other and laughing, from the building entrance to the van. What really shocked the gherkin was that there was one one of Pepinoville's Finest standing at the van writing a ticket. The youth didn't even acknowledge the officer. The driver put the van into reverse, and began to leave. The officer handed the ticket to the outstreched arm of the laughing driver as the van moved out of the well-marked handicapped space. As soon as the van was in drive, all the windows were rolled down, and all the occupants (without a hint of shame, embarrassment, or regret - heck, they were humored, if slightly indignant that they were seen as not above the law) began to hoot, holler, and mock the civil servant. They sarcastically asked her where the best donuts are, they accused that the officer wouldn't give the ticket to a law breaker of a different race, they swore, mocked the officer's size, weight, gender and ethnicity. They drove off.
Call me a dill, but I understand that parking in a handicap space, when you are not handicapped, is illegal. But that isn't even my reason for being absolutely astonished by what I saw; the lawbreakers instantaneously, like a reflex, saw themselves as the victims. Their most immediate synapse registered oppression, inequity, injustice.
They parked in a handicapped space!
Once the van pulled away, it revealed a small sedan. Outside of the driver's side door stood a man holding a ticket, flanked by his car and the handicapped parking sign. I wish I had a camera at that moment, because his face showed the contrition and mortification you would expect from someone caught doing something beyond the Bonehead Point on the Imbecile Scale of Idiocy (this scale is trademarked by Bob the Gorilla's Hey, Jerk, That's Just Not Right!Warehouse of the Incredulous, available at your local CukeMart stores). Hey, the blushing bonehead was still an idiot for parking there, no compassion from this rattled pickle, but at least he had a reasonable response to doing something unreasonable, if not stupid, selfish, and, again, illegal.
I won't even get into the issue that is all over the Cuke County newspapers, radio, and t.v.: a local high school principal was assaulted by a student while trying to break up a fight between students. The student's mom told reporters and police that if her daughter were going to be expelled, than the principal should be, too.
I'll just let that issue speak for itself. My blood pressure is way too high.

Que coraje,

Pepino Sin Justicia

Pepino Aleman

One of the finest actors to ever come out of the Bob el Gorila Not Ready for Snack Time Studio, Coco Loco (mas hermoso que George Clooney, mas intelegente que Einstien), gifted Sr. Suave with the fine pickled ornament you see above. Needless to say I was touched by the sentiment as well as the creativity. This ode to all Pepino will hang in a prominent part of the Suave Family tree, between Pepina's Field Hockey Girl ornament and L'il Pepinita's Cheetah Girls ornament.
The Pickle ornament is actually part of a German tradition. The ornament brings good luck to the child who finds it on Christmas morning. The lucky cherub who finds the gherkin gets a bonus gift from the Santa. !Dichoso!
To Coco Loco we send our sincerest thanks, with admiration for your considerable bilingual acting skills. Es obvio.

Con mucha admiracion,

Profesor Suave

Llega Santa

Santa passed by Pepinoville this morning! Li'l Pepinita even got to board the train and talk to the jolly traveler. Above are the pictures of the Big Guy's arrival, loitering, and departure; entirely out of sequence. Pepinoville citizens look forward to his return next week.

Me gustan las posadas,

P. Ho-Ho Suave

Ouch!

Se cae. Come nieve. Buen provecho.

Productos

The good people at Pepino Suave Yippee Skippee Multi-Lingual Games, Songs, and Stories (PSYSMLGSS) aren't in the business of endorsing products. Sure, we promote famous, beautiful, intelligent actors, like Rosa Rosada, Lindisima, and Coco Loco, but rarely do we ever endorse a manufactured product. O.K, maybe the odd rubber chicken, rubber chicken cannon, or rubber chicken toss-toy, but other than that, we try to stay out of the free market. Nonetheless, we feel compelled to share with you some products that our cherished readers need to know about:

Headblade - the headblade, and its line of accesories (HeadSlick Shave Cream, HeadSlick Head Balm, Head Slick Coffee Mug, etc.) are revolutionary tools for the hygiene of the face enriched/hair challenged. No longer is Pepina burdened with the weekly shaving of Pepino Suave's rock. Free at last! For more information, go to www.HeadBlade.com Shine on, crazy Bald Guy! Pepina won't know what to do with her free time...

Psylium Fiber - Two words that could be combined into one : Regularity. "Natural Bulk Producing Fiber" reads a descripition. Yours Truly couldn't describe it better, or more tactfully. Lowers cholestor, as well (just as an after thought).

Long Johns - From October to early April, these cotton classics are a Familia Suave staple.
Roof Rake - Keeping lake-affect (effect?) snow off the Casita Suave eves has become a winter ritual. Better that a roofing ritual...

Cereal (your own favorite brand) - Eaten as the dinner meal, cereal is quite a treat. Try it.

Un negociante sin verguenza* (o simplemente sin verguenza*),

Pepino "Coco Brillante" Suave

*If you truly need those two little dots over the "u" to make the world linguistic-cool (oops, did it again), use a washable marker on your monitor. We don't have the technological savvy to keyboard Spanish punctuation. Es obvio.

Ear Muffs

'Tis the season for carols. A big part of the Pepino Suave Yippy Skippy Christmas/Holiday Not to Offend People of Any Race, Creed, or Political Affiliation Spanish Program are songs of joy and thanksgiving. Some of the songs incorporated into our classroom are traditional, others are made-up on the spot, like last year's "Santa tumbo el chocolate" ("Santa knocked over the hot chocolate").
Yesterday, I kicked off the yuletide musical period with my somber quasi-baritone version of "Noche de Paz" ("Silent Night"). My debut performance was for my first graders, and, as they haven't heard the song yet, they sat in silence as I belted out an inspired performance.
Mind you , these kids come from as much a musical tradition as do my in-laws (known to break out in song as if life were a musical. "Pass the potatoes" could get you a few versus of an old Dutch derge). See my picture on the upper right of your screen. It is evidence of my only musical experience, my failed '05 Mariachi Frustrado Mexico Tour. I am sure you all recall this, my first and last concert tour of my Mariachi career (see my Autumn, '05 entries for concert dates and entries on the side bar at right). Pepino Suave made Spinal Tap look like a serious musical effort.
Anyway, the kids are eye-balling me as only first graders can; as if Pepino Suave were a rock star. I was unsettled, though, by the sweet little girl in the first seat, directly in front of me. This little girl is the picture of innocence; a girl who unfailingly listens, greets, helps others, and finishes her addition facts before recess. Simply put, she is 30-odd pounds of sugar and spice. The girl has no hint of worldliness, cynesism, sarcasm, or spite. Yet, as I start getting whipped up (around about the, "Armonias de Paz" part), little sweety frowns, lowers her head to her desk, covers her ears with her hands, and looks up at me like a cowering poodle.
Suddendly zapped from my musical revelry back into the reality that I have absolutly no musical inclination, and that I am singing in front of kids steeped in harmony and pantamoter (whatever), I soberly ask,
"Is my singing hurting your ears?"
Still clutching her ears, she nods her head forlornly, and is supported by classmates shouting, in chorus, "Si, si, Pepino Sauve, si. Your singing hurts our ears! Please stop. For the love of all that is Holy!"
Today I will use the CD player and the solid vocals of the famed Jose Luis Orozco.
Pepino Suave has left the building....

Canto como un sapo,

Pepino "El Mariachi Frustrado" Suave

Confirmado

Just in: Pepino Suave's two Friday schools, Uncle Paddy's Home for the Wayward Angels, and Blessed Breading are closed due to snow and ice.
Instead of my usual teaching threads, I will don my long undies and tackle the Sauve One-Car Driveway, as it accumulates what the Pepinoville Channel 8 Weatherman calls "precipitation".
May all those Pepino Suave friends, family, and oficionados not enjoying a snow cancelation be careful on those roads. Bring 'em back alive (and if you think of it, with a gallon of milk, loaf of bread, and a dozen eggs. Thanks).

Palando,

Peps

Dia de Nieve

As of this hour, Pepinoville metropolitan area is glazed with ice and snow, apparently with more to come. School closings are pouring in. Both Pepina's and Li'l Pepinita's schools are confirmed snowed out, yet my two schools are still flirting with the inevitable. Coffee cup in hand, I stare out the window...

Esperando,
Pepino S.

Teaching With Tylenol

Yesterday Pepino Suave taught with a sinus head ache and a sore throat. I felt like 6 feet, 180 pounds of mucus. I feigned enthusiam giving my lessons, and my students pretended to care while receiving them.
Today I taught with the same symptoms, although well masked by a dose of Tylenol every four hours. There was no pretending. I whipped our rubber chicken around like it was essential to language acquisition. I wore a wig and walked like a duck. I sat on a fake sandwich. I claimed, in Spanish, that the principal dances with elephants. I was inspired. It appeared the kids learned, too (although we don't have emperical proof, as yet).

Agradezco la farmacia,

Pepino Sano

Cinco Palabras

Five words that, together, define gastromical excellence:
Midnight Milky Way Candy Bar

Que disfruten,
P. Delicioso Suave

Mouths of Babes

Today was one of those rainy-high-pressure-no-outside-recess kind of days at The Home For Wayward Angels, one of the schools where I teach. Kids, all classes, all grades, were unusually full of life. I saw behavior and heard comments that are more common in early September than late November.
At the very end of the day the rain came down like it was paid to, and all the jittery kids were waiting in the main hallway. One little girl, clad with a pancho and a hood, ran up to me and exclaimed, "Pepino Suave, look, I have a hood!"
I thanked her for making me aware of her head gear.

Con mucho paciencia,

Profe. Suave

El Arbolito

That tree has been cut, delivered, and trimmed. We deck the halls today, and we're ready for the season.
That's a slanted blue spruce you see there in the Casa Pepina. We selected and cut a blue spruce; it was the tatooed youngster manning the trunk drilling machine that put a little "wow" into our yuletide lumber. Nothing a shimmy or two can't fix.

Tienes una casa en Pepinoville,

P. "Ho-Ho" Suave

Dia de Accion de Gracias II

Hope your Thanksgiving was as great as ours.

Atentamente,

La Familia Suave

Dia de Accion de Gracias

Happy Thanksgiving to the thousands of Pepino Suave family, friends, oficionados, and creditors. Thanksgiving '06 finds me with my annual Thanksgiving cold and flu, thank you. I am 180-some pounds of cough, mucus and misery. Physically, anyway. Otherwise I am goofy with mirth and thanksgiving. Li'l Pepinita is over at Opa Suave's crib helping out with the bird. Dear Pepina is in our cocina doing the trimmings. In an hour, we'll drive over with a wagon full of goodies, and celebrate at Opa's.
I leave you with my incomplete list of Things Pepino Suave Has to be Thankful For (TPSHTF, and pardon the dangle Grammarians).

TPSHTF:

• The Two Beautiful Ladies I live with that show me how to love and to give.
• My wife who is a walking definition of unconditional love and goodness, and giving. Each day, Dear Pepina proves that the glass is half-full.
• My daughter who I love like nothing else in this world.
• A family, both in-law, out-law, and blood relation, that are there throughout thick and thin, puns good and bad, sadness, gladness, and casseroles.
• A job that I love and that is the envy of everyone on weekends, and holidays, and during summer months.
• Students, their parents and colleagues who inspire, challenge, and make me belly-laugh.
• A relative body temperature of 98 degrees Fahrenheit and a pulse.
• The daily newspaper, Pepinoville Press.
• Four seasons, especially spring and fall.
• Leaf blower/vacuums and mulching lawnmowers.
• Seconds, especially when the firsts include mashed spuds.
• Split wood piled high in the garage.
• Long underwear, and short winters.
• Raisin bread toast and pork rinds.
• Homemade wine.
• The movie, Its a Wonderful Life, viewed with my family.
• Wrestling Li'l Pepinita after school.
• Cereal for dinner.
• Great nieghbors.

That is just the first page of a volume of thanksgiving...

Super agradecido,

Pepino "Gobble" Suave

El Gato

Angel is our cat. Li'l Pepinita welcomed her into our, until then, petless abode on her birthday. Li'l Pepinita is very happy with Angel el Gatito.
Today we found a cat fece on the front room floor.
Can a cat fit in a slow cooker?

Gateo,
Pepino "Gato Sabroso" Suave

Honey Crisp

You have not had an apple until you've tried an Honey Crisp. It's candy disquised as fruit. Adam would get a little more empathy from us sinners had he been offered a Honey Crisp by naggy Eve.
I didn't understand all the talk about the biblical fruit until I finally ate one the other day. It's just like they say: sweet as honey, and crisp as, well, it's crispy.
What are you doing? Go get yourself a Michigan Grown Honey Crisp.

Me qusta la manzana,

Peppy

*This message brought to you by the Michigan Fruit Growers Association.

Aunt Nina

This Veterans Day weekend, I had the pleasure to visit our favorite army veteran, Aunt Nina. She had lots of pictures to share from her autumn cruise to Alaska. She's planning a road trip to Florida in a week.
While sipping free-trade coffee, the spry octogenarian reflected on life in North Carolina during the 30's. Her house didn't have a well, so she and her sisters had to "carry water". It wasn't until a well was dug that they didn't have to carry water, or carry it that far. In the winters, the well pump had to be primed with warm water before it could be used.
Andale, I have to go get my tea out of the microwave...

Siempre agradecido,

Pepino "Cargando Agua" Suave

Post-Election

I woke up to an unsolicited email from a be-suited banker, broke and over-weight, claiming he "told me so" (he has " told me so" about dieting and finance, too). Apparently the early results of yesterday's election made him feel rightously (sp?) vindicated. As well, he apparently felt the elections somehow castigated the likes of this humble pepino. He didn't vote. I did.
Regardless of what the be-suited banker may believe, I don't have a particularly strong political persuasion. However, I am happy for the very independent Mr. Joe Lieberman. His party, that of the "people", all tolerant and open minded, jumped off his band wagon faster n' a pickle on a wet dinner plate, and he still won an election; by a bunch, too.
Locally, we give our sentiments to the biggest loser, dollar for dollar, Mr. DeSoap. Although he invested more money into the gubenatorial campaign than the U.S. has spent in Iraq, his bubble burst big time. Mr. DeSoap, you still have your "soap". Or lots of people to sell your "soap". Or lots of people to recruit lots of people to sell your....
And finally, the electorate was convinced that school funding is bad for business. No well educated child is going to get in the way of making a buck in this state. Proposal 5 flunked.

Bien confundido,

P. Dedo Morado Suave

Election Day

I have received 2,345.09 unsolicited, pre-recorded political phone messages since the weekend began. What little t.v. I watch is jammed packed with political marketing.
My vote this mid-term election was carefully calculated by a long, dirty laundry list of data, hunch, and reflection. If I go thrue yet another day of tele-arrogance, and televised groveling, I will throw the list to the wind, and vote for the people and proposals that least invade my privacy.
So there.

Super molestado,

Pepino Representado

Bald Guyz

Pops Suave gave me the heads-up on a new product for the scalp-rich. Bald Guyz Head Wipes are the perfect remedy for the five o'clock shine. One of these wipes will knock the gleam off your dome. The secret is a quick drying swiss formula "specially formulated for The Bald Guy". Plus, it has a Green Tea extract that will leave your head with a "natural healthy look after each use." Buy a box now at your local pharmacy.

Coco pelado,

Pepino "Brillante" Suave

Happy Halloween

The streets of Pepinoville were full of frolickers; it was as if there were no cable t.v., Game Boys, or computers. Dads and moms, grandparents, and kids mingled and shouted "Happy Holloween", and "Thank you", and "How are you?"

Me queda encantado,

Pepino S.

Fine Line

My dear daughter, Li'l Pepinita, nurturing my love for books, gifted me Alan Alda's new memoir, Never Have Your Dog Stuffed. Alda isn't just the actor behind the great Hawkeye Pierce of M.A.S.H., the fellah can scratch out a good line or two. The title of his autobio is brilliant enough, but pales in comparison to the first line of his book, one of the goofiest I've ever stumbled across:

Chapter 1

"My mother didn't try to stab my father until I was six, but she must have shown signs of oddness before that..."

Alda's book shows, page after page, that it takes a cruely bizarre childhood to eventually be nominated for 32 Emmy Awards, write, act, and produce in dozens of movies, and get home in time for dinner. Actors

My favorite chapter so far? Chapter 4, which tells the tale of Alda's childhood pet that eventually ended up stuffed next to the den fireplace.

Leo,
Pepino Lector

Applebee's

If I got one call about my promise to review Ron Fournier's Applebee's America, I got a million. Tranqui, tranqui, nieghbors, I'll get to it. I only finished the tome of marketing wisdom a week ago. I guy has to digest all the universal truth it contains, and peep at the new issue of Mad Magazine before a guy can synthesis how it has changed a guy's course in life. Chill.
My long awaited comments on reknown author, wiffle ball allstar, and quick-witted recontour Ron Fournier and his Pulitzer-bound tear-jerker, Applebee's America will appear in various November entries. As Granny would say, "Keep your pants on. Or, " Hold your horses. Or, "Where's the fire". Or, a sharp, stinging thimble pie to the temple.

Super ocupado,
Pepino Suave

Tech Support Plea

Hey, my tech-savvy readers. How do I get great icons, like the one to the left, on my sidebar? Maybe brother Casi Italiano is out there reading this. Could you punch-in and help out a 'mano? I want to get these hot links on this baby before the rest of the world catches on and I'm just coughing road dust.

Atrasado,

Peppy

Haunting Begins

The first handful of many Holloween bashes were held yesterday. Above, a Li'l Pumkin displays the gastromical offerings at Pepinoville's Santo Sobrio Lutheran Church annual celebration of the Satanic. It was followed by revelry at Pepinoville Elementary Escuela de Expectaciones Realisticas. Li'l Pepinita enjoyed a day full of haunts, starch, salt, sugar, corn syrup, and artificial flavors.
Only 48 hours until actual Holloween day, and there is still plenty instructional time to be interrupted in celebration of things spooky. On Tuesday, let's put behind No Child Left Untested, cancel math class, and have a costume parade.
Remember, it's about the kids.
Asustado,
P. Boo Sauve

Pennsylvania Wedding

A wedding party playing in an autumn field, a ride in a cauliflower truck, dad and daughter dancing, and bubbles from well-wishers; these kids know how to throw a wedding.

Felicitaciones,
La familia Sauve

Pig Trough Dancing

Apparently, in Pennsylvania Dutch country, if an older sibling of the bride or groom is yet unmarried, he/she is made to dance in the pig trough. Here, the single sis of the groom trips the gruel fantastic, as they say. She fell on her pompis, at one point. A trooper, she got right back up and cut a rug in the porcine platter.

Baile pues,

Pepino S.

En Camino

I'm in Pennsylvania as I file this entry. Can you tell? The clan Suave, accompanied by Opa and dear friend Patriota, have spent the weekend in Pepina's hometown, a sleepy burough tucked into the hills of south east P.A. We're here to attend the wedding of two great youngsters - our beautiful niece, Simpatica, and her fine beau, Electrico. The wedding was great, as were the sights. We saw a vivacious Penn-Dutch gal dance in a pig trough. We saw Pepina's childhood surrogate Mom, Mrs. Conversar, clean a floor while maintaining a, frankly, very engaging chat with her visitors. Pepinita and I experienced the plight of an ilegal alian; we hitched a ride to the wedding in the back of Agronomista's cauliflower truck. When, in the wet darkness of the post-wedding evening, Uncle Doble Pensionado opened the back of the truck and peered over the mounds of vegetable at our wide eye selves, Pepinita and I feared it was the Migra, and we had no papers. What fun!
All this, and more, when I get back to headquarters. Stay tuned and the author of this blog and his staff of handsomely paid gorillas will inform you of our gay adventures in the birthplace of our beloved Pepina.

Coliflor,

Pepino Menonito

Los Tigres

Felicitaciones a todos los fanaticos de Los Tigres de Detroit.
It has been a long time coming.

Un fanatico de nuevo,
P. Suave

Applebee's America

On Wednesday, all of Pepinoville and Aunt Nina came out to party at the Dill Boulevard Applebee's, one of only 14 in metropoliten Cuke County, as one of our home-town heroes, the much-herald author Ron Fournier, came to town to sell some books. Not just any book, mind you; the book Mr. Fournier was hawking was co-crafted by his own nimble fingers. With him he brought a partner author of Applebee's America to sign books, eat snacks, and sip iced tea with throngs of fans, potential readers/coffeetable book collectors, and creditors (Papa Pepino). There was a cake, too (see above).
We thank Mr. Ron Fournier (hope I spelled that right), his partner in prose, Matthew Dowdnier, and the fleet-footed staff at the Dill boulevard Applebee's for the bountiful book bash.
Pepino Suave Readers, I can't recomend this book more highly. I am on Chapter 7, "Americans On the Move", and would have finished the book by now if I could just set aside this month's Mad Magazine and concentrate. I'll include in my October entries some of my analysis about my reading (of Applebee's America, not Mad Magazine. Silly) and encourage you to do the same by commenting when appropriate. The Pepino Suave editorial board encourages Mama Pepina's comments to include her "outside words". Children sometimes read this blog...

Con orgullo,

Pepino "Lector" Suave

Autumn

Gozando de la vida pepina,

Peps.

Aniversario

Another year has swept passed us. Yes, today we celebrate Papa and Mama Suave's 44th wedding anniversary. As we did a year ago, the Pepino Suave Editorial Board has packaged some marriage vocabulary for our esteemed readers, in honor of our beloved padres:

No lo hagas - Don't do it. Classic pre-marital advise with a latin twist.
Te quiero a morir - I love you to death, or, My love for you is killing me.
Besame Juanita - Kiss me Jane. As with one of last year's entries, this one has little to do with the marriage theme, but is a classic meringue lyric.
Hay Pero Que Calor - Losely tranlated, Dang Its Hot. Another memorable meringue hit that refers to the tropical climate. Many tropical married people dance to meringue (so it's a stretch. It's 6:00 in the morning, fans).

On behalf of the countless Pepino Suave Blog fans around the globe, and especially Pepino S. and his siblings, Periodista, Casi Italiano, and La Monja, we wish Papa and Mama Suave a happy anniversary. You are the authors of our days....

Con amor y respeto,

P. Diddy Suave

Una Soga de Mocos

Tbere is a veritable plague of colds seeping thrue Pepinoville elementary schools. I have classrooms of children sneezing like a gang of alergic hungry hippos. One remarkable sneeze accured yesterday in Mrs. Lithium's second grade class. Little Stue reared back and let loose a sneeze that released a rope of light-green mucos. The booger lasso landed a good foot away, and attached itself to his wrist. He stared at me, a string of boogers stretching from his left nostrol to his arm, as if I had an answer to his dilema. I pointed to a tissue box (Mrs. Lithium provides a box of tissue at each cardinal direction. Stue went South). He made it to the tissues and back to his desk without breaking his brilliant band of boogers. It took him the entire calendar routine to clean himself up and disenfect ( a bottle of hand cleaner can also be found in any direction, He returned South). Hardly a classmate was wiser, Stue and I were so discrete.

Muchos mocos,

Profe. Suave

Navigator

Hey Pickled Peeps of mine.The guy that gives me the low-down on everything from fashion to furniture, my personal navigator, a slack-joweled lokel named Ignatius, has told me about a book called Applebee's America. This tome of contemporary marketeering was written by a couple of guys, and by Ron Fournier, a revered journalist and savvy Pay-the-Man wiz. You got to get your mits on this book. Today I am going to tell nine people to read it.

Lector familiar,

Pepinazo

P.D. You can own your very own copy: www.amazon.com

Rubia's Birthday

Happy birthday, today, to our beloved cousin, Rubia. Rubia, our readers surely recall, is the author of the finest ambrosia recipe this side of Rio Pepino. Our youthful thirty-year-old-or-so has yet to disclose the ingredients of her marshmellowed concoction to the Pepino Suave community. As she eats her cake, we await.

Esperando,

P. Suave

Overheard

In a Cuke County area bathroom, the wife brushes her hair, and the husband shaves while listening to the radio news show:

Husband: Did you get a load of that reporters name? Gerald Stupedowski. Wow. What do you think his nickname is?

Wife: Gerry.


Oigo todo,

Peps

9/11/01

It was the second morning of sheparding 48 fifth and sixth graders at our annual camping trip at a YMCA camp some 50 miles from school. It was our kick-off event; a way for the students and teachers to come together as a group as the school year began. My cabin was the first awake that morning. We were a group of 6 boys and myself and we were eating breakfast in the cafeteria close to the parking area. We heard the sound of tires on gravel, and went outside to see who was arriving. A handful of parents were popping out of their cars into the sunlight of a gorgeous fall morning. At first, I guessed the parents decided to play hooky and spend an uninvited day with us in the sun. Their faces didn't show that sentiment; they looked rushed, distracted. They told me some buildings had been hit by planes in New York, and they were going to take their kids home with them. That was the first we heard of the catastrophy.
Those of us that remained followed the camp staff down to the lake where the flag was at half-staff, and we discussed with the students what we knew of the tragedy. I spent quite a bit of time jogging between our group and the main lodge, trying to get a hold of my wife using the camp's phone (we purchased our first cell phone soon after). Ironically, I could only reach my parents in Canada, and they relayed messages between us. My wife told us of her dad's heart attack upon watching footage of the disaster, and the shamefully exploitive gas prices at the gas stations in town. My brother, an Associated Press reporter covering the White House at the time, was one of the last to evacuate the potential target.
Our bus returned to the school half-full that evening. I remember being surprised that not a single parent was late in picking up their child. A disaster of that scale made folks punctual, apparently.
I returned home to a changed world.

Atentamente,

P.S.

Patriots Day

The Pledge of Allegiance
I Pledge Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands,one Nation under God,indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Puro Estadounidense,

Pepino U.S.A. Suave

Grandpa's Ears

First of many memorable things I hear in hallways:

"When I get home I tickle my grandpa's ears."

Oigo todo,

Profe. Peps

First Day of School

Actually, my first day back to the classroom was last week. Some of my schools thumb their collective noses at the new law that would have students return after labor day. Technically, I was teaching illegaly last week. I hope I don't get fined for my transgression.
As I begin another school week, my thoughts are with the teachers and families in the Detroit Public School District, whose schools continue to be closed because of a strike. May those who count the beans choose to do what is best for children.

Atentamente,
Profesor Pepino

El Agronimo Bailarin

Many moons ago, when ol' Pepino S. still possesed a tuft of hair or so, he toiled as a volunteer for an obscure governmental organization in a land far away. The wise beaurocrats in Washington assigned our friend to the Agricultural Program, as he had been reared in Detroit. Our young, idealistic American was to promote modern agricutural techniques to poor campasinos. After three months of training that included the identification of key agricultural tools like the shovel, he was sent to a remote part of the countryside often refered to as the "arm-pit". Soon, his success as an agricultural extensionist spread throughout the land, like manure on a fresh plowed field. He was asked to consult at the village of a fellow volunteer, Lee "Subjuntivo" Scott. After fifteen minutes of pointing at trees and other green stuff, Pepino Suave asked Subjuntivo if there might be some libation in those parts. Subjuntivo led young Pepinito to the Middle of Nowhere, home of the rockingest discoteque in the Carribean; the wildly popular Sammy Play. There, Subjuntivo and Pepino put into practice the keen meringue techniques that they had acquired during training in the capital. The locals had never seen anything like it: two tall, bumbling gringos dancing like they were paid to (thank you U.S. taxpayers). Upon the closing of Sammy Play, Subjuntivo and Pepino were obliged to walk back to the village, as neither could balance on motorcycle or horse.
That night remains a great part of local lore, and to this very day, the author of this blog is refered to as "El Agronimo Bailarin" (The Dancing Agronomist), and his good friend and contractor, Lee, is remembered as "Subjuntivo," for his unparralled mastery of the cruelest verb tense in the world.
This memory was dug-up out of an old pile of nostalgia labeled "No Future In Politics" when Subjuntivo paid us a visit last week. He happened to be in town on business, accompanied by El Tejano, a man with a strange physical resemblance to Pepino Suave, but much wiser and employable. Unsolicited, he shared with us some terms that we had never heard of, and cannot share with you on this very public blog. The editors of this fine entry would not dare to offend the readership with terms like Gorila Fingers.
El Tejano reports to Subjuntivo. Pepino Suave reports to no one. Save Pepina.

Hasta la proxima,

Pepino Agronimo