I once was a writer...

"You have your mother's eyes." That's a phrase Harry Potter heard way too many times in his life. #littleBabyHergett is only 7 months old and he has already heard it at least as many times as Harry by book 5. He has my eyes. He does. I love it. I really do. Until I remember what happened to Harry and to Lilly - Harry, who had his mother's eyes. You see, the moment I became a mom, every single little thing that I see or read about becomes a probable outcome for my child. Commercials about starving little children make me thing about the possibility of my own child starving, and to what extents I would personally go to try to avoid him from ever feeling even the slightest bit of hunger. I'm typing with one finger, because my right hand is holding a bottle to his mouth right now. Movies with kids not getting birthday or christmas presents, and their sad little faces and their tiny teary eyes, make me cry while crafting the most intricate list of possible gi...

The first day of the fall semester has come. The State University of Middlemarch opens its doors to the hundreds of new freshmen, among them Dorothea Brooke. Dressed prudently for her age, she finds the room where her first class will take place, Introduction to Literary Studies  -- unlike her fellow students, her face is not buried in her smartphone, because her old, trustworthy Nokia has no internet connection. She has no need for ostentatious gadgets: her phone must make and receive calls, and it does. Her younger sister is with her today (high school does not begin until next week, and as a Senior in Middlemarch High she wants to see what expects her next year); but Dodo and Celia share only their last name. Celia, though less pretty, shows more skin and is more interested in worldly possessions. While Dodo hopes to eventually graduate with an MBA, Celia aspires to get an MRS. Meeting them at the entrance of the department of languages and literature is James Chettam, Junior ...

I like German words because they sound powerful. There is one word that I have come to respect greatly. It sounds awesome (it kinda rolls on your tongue) and it is regal, majestic, and final: Verboten . It means "forbidden", but forbidden still sounds like something you can do when no one is watching. When something is verboten  you better seriously NOT do it. Since we signed the documents which make us legally married in Germany, my husband has a " Verboten " one-item-list to abide by. Upon reading said one-item-list, and the subsequent Sub-clauses, you might think that I am much too influenced by the media. If so, I say to you, Perhaps. Yes. But still, my husband is mine, and is verboten from doing the following things. (1) Die. My husband may not die. Ever. - Sub-clause A: My husband shall not run, handle, manage, work in, above or at a crystal meth laboratory, stationary or otherwise. He may not consume, sell, distribute or handle crystal meth in any w...

There is a Colombian tradition, law almost, which states that in order to welcome the new year properly, one must wear yellow underwear. Preferably new. Preferably blinding-sun-yellow (as opposed to pale yellows, or ochre tones). The more absurd and ridiculous, the better (granny panties, for instance), but that is more a matter of personal preference than it is part of the law (g-strings and thongs are allowed). I can't remember the last time I didn't wear yellow panties - that is, the last time before this NYE 2013. For the first time in a million years I failed to wear yellow drawers. I could blame it on the lack of supply of yellow knickers in Germany, but I honestly did not even look. I could say that both my yellow underpants were in the dirty laundry pile, but I'm afraid my nose would grow too big. I will thus only come out with the truth and say that I forgot. And for that, I am terribly sorry and ashamed. May this year be amazing, in spite of my not having welcomed...

I very much appreciate the English language for providing a difference between a wedding and a marriage. I was never afraid of the marriage, because I knew I was marrying the one . I was, however, terrified of the wedding, because planing a wedding from a different continent is no easy feat. But my mom and sister were amazing, and thanks to them, and my aunt the Wedding Planner, we had a perfect wedding. I don't quite believe in omens, but if I did, I would have to believe that a great wedding is a good omen for an awesome marriage. Take a look at how much fun we had. Isa, bridesmaid, and Santiago, groomsman. She flew over from Australia, and he flew over from Spain. My sister Nini, the Maid of Honor, and Tomás, the Best Man. Nini reading, and Honey and I checking out the ship in the background... Our first dance, Enya's Flora's Secret. Honey and his mom. My dad and I. Sarita, Honey's niece, and Alejandro, my cousin. ...