Not In Cuba Anymore

There's a conspiracy going on and I'm the victim of this global devilish plan. Here's the thing, whenever I get out of my car and I proceed to close the door, I get shocked. I'm not talking about a minor discharge of static energy, but a strong and annoying one. It has happened so often that I'm literally afraid to touch the door handle when I leave the car. What I do now is to carefully get out of the car and close the door by pushing on the window. Glass is fine, thank you very much. What this means for you is that if I'm riding in your car, there will be smudges on the window after we finish hanging out.

This used to happen in Miami, but it has gotten really bad here in Topeka. If only it was my car, then I wouldn't complain as much. But whenever I leave the car and let's say want to go inside the bank or Wendy's, well, those door handles also shock me. What I do sometimes is to pull on my coat's sleeves when I open a door and that absorbs some of the shock, but it still gets me. Lately, Elena has been kind enough to almost open every door for me. This of course makes me look like a jerk to the rest of the world when they see that I don't open the door for my pregant wife. Oh, but they just don't know the pain, the fear.

Like I mentioned, it was bad in Miami, but it's definitely more severe over here. Things that have happened to me:

• When I turned off a light switch in the basement, there was a loud sound like lightning had struck me.


• When getting off the couch to grab my computer, I was zapped by my crappy Acer PC.


• At the bank's drive thru, my ear slightly touched the door frame and I saw a number of colors and stars.


• Once, and this happened in Miami, my cousin Yinet barely touched me and a bright and visible spark almost ignited her hand.


• I had a pair of pants that if when wearing them I touched the side of my car, I got shocked badly. My brother inherited those now.

As you can see, there's a conspiracy going on. Wherever I go, I can almost hear a gentle song in the air that says, "We Will, We Will Shock You!" And I don't like it a bit.

The first time I drove by "Bobo's" I burst out laughing. Elena was confused, thinking I had become schizophrenic or something for just laughing out of nowhere. But then I explained to her that if for example, someone did something really dumb, I would say in Spanish, "Que clase de bobo!"

This translates to "What a dummy!" when talking about a loved one, or "What and idiot!" when talking about someone you don't particularly like.

So there you have it, whenever I drive by Bobo's I'm always going to chuckle, but don't worry, I'm not going crazy.

As all of you know, I recently just moved here, so there's a lot of different things going on. But right now I need your help in finding a job. Preferably an office job. Although a dream job would be writing or even translating. Hablo y escribo muy bien el español. But yes, an office job would be fantastic. I would really appreciate your help.

You can reach me here: lovedoesntletgo@gmail.com

Or just leave me a comment. Thanks!

This is what I'm used to and miss, lots of noise, lots of people. Good times!

Living in Topeka feels like an episode of Cheers. Not that we hang out in bars and know someone named Frasier or anything like that, but because everywhere you go, you are bound to run into someone who knows you. I'm not saying that this is bad, or that this is good, it has its pros and cons, but that's the reality.

The thing is, I'm not used to it. I was born in Havana, and then moved to Miami when I was 11, so I'm used to big cities. Here in Topeka, when I step out of the house, people know me by name and perhaps what I had for breakfast that morning, and the things is, I barely know anyone. In fact, 85 percent of the people that greet me I have no idea who they are. Sorry, but if you are reading this, you may be one of them. But because my momma didn't raise no fool, I politely say hello and waive.

I'm sure that with time I'll get to know more people, and just maybe even what they had for breakfast, too.

For Thanksgiving, I'm used to having dinner, which includes turkey, but also pork, rice and black beans and yuca. When Elena told me that typically Thanksgiving is a lunch event I was definitely surprised. I felt my jaw drop at the news. Thanksgiving at lunch? What?

Fortunately, I have a pretty amazing wife, so she made some black beans and rice. It was really delicious and everyone at the table had some. It also made the transition of being away from the rest of my family easier. And it was a picture of our marriage, Cuban and American, black beans and mashed potatoes, Apple Pie and Pastelitos. Besides my Cuban food for Thanksgiving (or San Givi, mispronounced in Cuban Spanish), I'm also used to music, dancing and lots and lots of people. Not only is Cuban Thanksgiving a family dinner, but friends are also welcomed. Beers are also welcomed, although I must clarify that I always drink just one.

But this year, now in Kansas, it was different, the sun was still out and there was no pork and no dancing, but I still had a wonderful time. Renae, Justin, Bekah, Rick, Rosalie and even the dogs, Tanner and Bella were really fun to be around.

So there you have it, my first real American Thanksgiving at lunch, or well, does it count even if I had black beans? My wife would say yes, this is our life now, Thanksgiving and San Givi, and both are beautiful.

Rick Wenger, my father-in-law, is a great guy. He has always been very helpful and has become like a father to me. He also talks like he lives in the 1950s and that is pretty awesome. On any given day he'll use an idiom or phrase that I have never heard of in my life. And I'm not the only one, sometimes not even Rosalie (his wife) knows what he meant. So, recently whenever he would mention something that sounded like it was used as slang 50 years ago, I took out my Blackberry and made a note of it.