I look up at the title of this blog and am taken aback. I've changed the title a couple of times since starting this site and have settled on this one quite happily, or so I thought. Now I glance up and wonder who is writing this. Is the author talking about me? A woman of a certain age? I almost envision a bustle on the back of my dress. But no, it is me; and yes, I've reached that certain age. All of a sudden it's pleasurable and I feel peace and contentment. I don't want to be 29 any more.

So let me introduce myself. I was born in San Antonio, Texas some years ago (you don't expect me to actually give you my age, do you?) and spent my preschool years staying with my grandmother, Mercedes, who owned a hamburger joint across the street from San Pedro Park. I learned the business and how to lure people in (throw chopped onion on the grill and the aroma draws 'em in, and don't forget to sprinkle holy water around the perimeter periodically). It worked like a charm. Grandma Mercedes was a wonderful woman.

Catholic school snarled me up for 16 years, but I'm over it. I spent idyllic summers growing up in Mexico with aunts, uncles, and cousins; I also spent my fourteenth year at a Mexican school in Guadalajara to once and for all learn Spanish. Not being taught to speak Spanish before that is a whole other story for another time.

Hasta entonces.