Grandma and Grandpa’s house didn’t have much in the way of entertainment for kids. There was never anything worth watching on a Sunday afternoon (this was before I found M*A*S*H* entertaining). There were no toys, no video games, and the only jigsaw puzzles Grandma owned were those really tough 500-piece puzzles.

Despite all this, I was never bored, especially when all my cousins were around. Tía Lupe and her five sons — all older than me — lived directly across the street. Tía Lucy and tía Mary also lived nearby. Together they could add nine kids to the mix. Tío Johnny lived further away, but he’d often visit on Sundays too. And of course, my siblings and I were down for games. We’d easily have a group of a dozen kids ready for a game. [Note: my dad’s younger siblings’ children were too young to play or not born yet.]

We played freeze tag and other variations on tag. When we tired, we’d sit on the broad porch and play war or old maid with a deck of cards (but hiding them from Grandpa who didn’t approve). My favorite game was Colored Eggs.

First we’d ask who was in an who was just a spectator. The spectator cousins — usually the younger ones — would be forced to sit up at the top of the porch out of the way of those in the game. Next, all cousins would put in a single foot to choose a Wolf via the “eeny, meeny, miny, mo” method.

Once the Wolf was chosen, the remaining players would take seats on the porch and silently choose a color for his/her egg. The Wolf would stand out in the middle of the front yard and eye his cousins on the porch steps suspiciously.

Wolf: knock, knock.
Kids (I think we were supposed to be chicks): what do you want?
Wolf: an egg!
Kids: what color?
Wolf: [chooses color] purple!
Kids: we don’t have that color!
Wolf: [chooses another color] sky blue!

At that moment, the cousin who chose sky blue would jump down the steps and begin running around the house in the counter clockwise direction as the Wolf gave chase to get his egg. The rest of us would get up to see from the edge of the porch was our cousin dodged plants, stray cats and parked cars in the driveway and tried to make it back to the porch safe. If the Wolf caught her, then she’d have to trade places and become the wolf. If not, the game would continue with the same Wolf. (Bea, if I have any of the details wrong, please correct me. My guess is your memory about this game would be more accurate.)

I hated being chased or being the Wolf as most of my other cousins were older and could run faster. It was still fun, even if I did end up scraping my knee or dirtying my dress.

La Pregunta: What was your favorite game as a kid?

I’m defining game as an indoor or outdoor competitive activity without any props that required electricity or batteries. The only energy you needed was the kind you get with a large group of kids.

When I was growing up, my mom never watched telenovelas. I doubt she had time to sit down with four kids running around. In fact, the only time she watched TV was when she ironed clothes or folded clothes still warm from the dryer. TV was just background noise.

The only people who watched telenovelas at home were Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni. When I was 8, my parents sent me and Danny to their home in el Cargadero, Zacatecas for a few weeks during the summer. I played all day with the kids in el Cargadero. In the evening, I’d settle in front of la tele with los abuelitos, to watch the latest chapter of Rosa Salvaje. Rosa (Verónica Castro) was the perfect heroine. Ricardo, Rosa’s wealthy love-interest, was swoon-worthy. And what’s more scary than evil twin sisters with big ’80s hair and shoulder pads?

I loved it.

But then I came back to the states, third grade and the Disney afternoon. I forgot all about Rosa and her rags to riches story.

In the next ten years, I’d get hooked on only two more telenovelas, Baila Conmigo and Soñadoras.

Since 2000, I haven’t paid much attention to the telenovelas that always confused me as a kid. A blonde person speaking Spanish? Really? Where were all the brown people? It wasn’t all so confusing. After all, I did learn plenty of insults and words like “idiota,” “jamás” and “engañar,” but the acting was bad and the plot lines were predictable. Plus, I had way too much going on to tune in every evening for an hour.

La Pregunta: Are you a novelera/o?

Dad comes to my rescue whenever I need him. And I need him a lot.

Last week, I called him a bit freaked out because my car was overheating. I was in Northridge about 20 minutes from my apartment with no cell phone. I made it safely to my friend’s apartment and called dad to figure out what to do about my overheating car.

I gave him directions to my friend’s apartment and a few hours later, he and my mom showed up in Northridge. They’d driven out from Hacienda Heights (45 minutes to an hour away) to check up on my car. Of course my dad could have told me how to do some basic checks under the hood. And he could have told me to call the roadside service included in my warranty, but I’m his daughter. He drops everything if I — or Lori, Danny and Adrian — need him.

The whole experience made me realize that I’m not as independent as I thought. I need my dad and his Charlie Services™.

La Pregunta: Why does your dad rock? Amusing anecdotes appreciated.

I’m not a fan of most street food, but I can’t resist raspados de tamarindo. I love tamarindo whether it’s raw, in gooey candy or in a liquid form over shaved ice.

Raspados de tamarindo are the perfect treat after marching around downtown LA or after driving around the LA area trying to get your car fixed. Sigh.

La pregunta: What’s your favorite raspado flavor?

Photo of raw tamarindo on the left by Nathan Gibbs. Used under Creative Commons license

I just got through eight days of serving on a jury — my first time!

La Pregunta: How do you feel about jury duty? Have you ever served on a jury? What was your experience like?