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Dope Smokin’ Blattaria

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When I was a kid, we would sing the lyrics to “La Cucaracha,” completely unaware that the song is talking about . . . .

D O P E!

I’m embarrassed to admit that as a grown up Latina, I had no idea that we were happily singing about vile insects that go around smoking dope.Where the heck were my parents? Didn’t they realize what we were singing?

I just found out today while listening to an Old Timey music show. What a pocha!

Did you know the lyrics?

La cucaracha, la cucaracha
Ya no puede caminar
Porque no tiene, porque le falta
Marijuana que fumar.

(The cockroach, the cockroach
Now he can’t go traveling
Because he doesn’t have, because he lacks
Marijuana to smoke.)

Ya la murio la cucaracha
Ya la lleven a enterrar
Entre cuatro zopilotes
Y un raton de sacristan.

(The cockroach just died
And they carried him off to bury him
Among four buzzards
And the sexton’s mouse.)

Now that I know what we were really talking about here, can someone tell me what a sexton is?



Cold Mountain

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I climb the road to Cold Mountain,

the road to Cold Mountain that never ends.

The valleys are long and strewn with stones,

the streams broad and banked with thick grass.

Moss is slippery, though no rain has fallen;

pines sigh, but it isn’t the wind.

Who can break from the snares of the world

and sit with me among the white clouds?


My Living Room

The Rockies beckon, I recon

I’m ready to stay in this strange place called “home”

where I will gradually fall into a routine

and forget what it’s like to roam.

at least for a while.

Summer aspens are still bare

but soon their clackety leaves will appear

The Moose will roam far and yonder,

the rains will come and the sky will go BOOM!

all of this I’ll watch from the comfort of my






It’s Summertime in the Rockies!

Foiled by the Kumomoto Oyster

There’s only so much that a coastal-born, almost-vegan cowgirl can take.

After spending several months living among dry scrubby lands infested with dirt devils and thorny plants that could pierce your skull in two, I packed my bags and headed west.

Back to the land of tall trees and foggy coast. Sucky weather but some of the best damn seafood you’ll ever have in your life.

Where kumomoto oysters sprout up from the cold ocean waters like the poppies along Highway 101.

How could I resist?

Pop one in your mouth and feel the Pacific Ocean’s crisp salty air flood your palette while the most, meaty creature slides down your throat.