Category: Uncategorized

Mr. Chip Dameron.  He gave me great advice.

Mr. Glen Sorestad, the first Poet Laureate of Saskatchewan, Canada (2000-2004).

Last night, I attended a poetry reading at the Brownsville Museum of Fine Art.  The poets were Chip Dameron, a local professor emeritus of UTRGV, and Glen Sorestad, Saskatchewan, Canada’s first Poet Laureate.  I walked into the room and knew I was in the presence of greatness; literary heroes, if you will.

Chip signs my copy of his book, Waiting for an Etcher. He said I have a beautiful name.

I immediately zeroed in on Chip.  I wanted to soak up as much wisdom from him as I could.  From what I had heard and read about him, he was easily one of my new heroes.  With a number of published books on poetry and reputable as a professor, he represents a good portion of what I want to be when I grow up.  I picked his brain, asking about whether or not he recommended eventual grad school for writing, and how he suggested going about being published one day.  He was very personable and helpful, and provided me with good leads I would not have had otherwise.

But that was not my favorite part of the evening.  My favorite part of the evening took me by surprise, like words perfectly penned together often do.  Glen Sorestad read an entry from his collection, A Thief of Impeccable Taste, titled, Ten Years.

He read this poem with a simple and gracious ease.  And I wept.  Wept.  I didn’t anticipate that I would cry when I decided to attend this poetry reading.  I didn’t expect the emotion this particular poem would evoke in me.

What Mr. Sorestad didn’t know was that I have a four-year old boy at home who is one of my greatest joys.  But recently, I have found myself, on occasion, growing frustrated with him.  The words in his poem, “with its constant reminder, of how a mother is heart and core of what a son becomes,” cut me to the core.  And reminded me what is of utmost importance; the current stage of life my son is in is temporary, but his character will be lasting.  I am to continue the work I am doing in his life, knowing that it is not done in vain.

Glen Sorestad signs my copy of his book, A Thief of Impeccable Taste. I thanked him for reading Ten Years.

Hello, everyone!  It’s that time again—giveaway time!  I am teaming up with a dear friend, Leslie, who has an awesome blog, mykitchenisopen.com.

Go to her blog to triple your chances of winning!  She has great recipes and has recently starting taking charge of her health.  She is inspiring many around her, myself included!  Because of her generosity, I am raffling off the Pioneer Woman’s Flea Market 2-piece Ceramic Bakeware (see image)!  Aren’t they beautiful?

Leave a comment below, sharing your favorite storiesbytheseashore blog post, and why it is your favorite.  Then click on the Rafflecopter to enter!  Thank you!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

My enchiladas suizas —with a side of rice and beans.

My husband is a pastor.  I’m not sure if I mentioned that in previous posts.  There are parts of his job that I really enjoy, like connecting with other people and opening up our home.  There are harder parts, like accompanying him to wakes and funerals.  Occasionally, there are welcome surprises.  Our first meal at Rice & Beans was just that.  Members of our church, Carlos and Cindy Elizondo, recently opened up their own restaurant, and they wanted one of the pastors from our church to pray a blessing over it.  My husband was the chosen one, and the children and I got to accompany him.

Rice & Beans is not your typical Brownsville restaurant.  Everything, from the chicken to the tortillas, is made from scratch and prepared on site as it is ordered.  Open for only two weeks, the restaurant has already experienced incredible success.  Their motto?  “Be Happy:  Eat more rice and beans.”

When asked about the name, owner Carlos Elizondo shared, “The vision started with my family.  I grew up poor.  The only thing we always had at the table was rice and beans; that’s where the name came from.  We want everyone that comes in to feel like they are eating at home.”

The Rice and Beans menu

I was very impressed by the service we received.  We were treated like royalty and got to eat whatever we liked off the menu.  I had the enchiladas suizas and they were amazing!  The salsa verde they make is beyond compare!  When I go back, I am going to order the same dish because I liked it so much.

Elizondo has a big vision for Rice & Beans.  “I would like to see it in every city.  More than anything, I want to make sure it is 100% great, especially for our people that come here on a daily basis,” he added.  “We want to provide good food, good prices and a great atmosphere.  In the last two weeks that we’ve been open, everyone has come more than once.”

The prices are quite reasonable, and there are high chairs and diaper changing stations in the restroom.  In a city like ours, catering to families is of utmost importance if you want your business to succeed; we are a fruitful people.

Rice & Beans is open daily from 6 am–3pm, and also has a drive-thru.  Their weekends are busiest because of their barbacoa sales.  “We see a lot of people [in the drive-thru] in pajamas,” Elizondo said.

The Elizondo Family (from L-R):  Mario, Sophia, Briana, Carla, Mary Lou (Huerta), Cindy and Carlos.

“We would like everyone to give it a shot,” added Cindy Elizondo,”we provide excellent customer service and the food is always fresh.  It’s a friendly family environment.”

Popular hostess, Mary Lou Huerta, a retired BISD employee of 28 years, commented, “It’s inviting and makes people want to come here and bring their children.  We give God the glory.”  Because of their immediate progress, they have implemented a buffet specifically for BISD employees and other professionals that do not get long lunch breaks.

I hope you get the opportunity to check out Rice & Beans for yourself; you won’t regret it!  I know my family and I will be back.  For more information, please visit their Facebook page.

Rice and Beans is located at 5815 FM 802.

Salsa dancing, my absolute favorite!

“Voy a reír, voy a bailar, vivir mi vida…la, la, la, la, la…Voy a reír, voy a gozar, vivir mi vida, la, la, la, la, la…”  Translation:  “I’m gonna laugh, I’m gonna dance, live my life…la, la, la, la, la…I’m gonna laugh, I’m gonna enjoy, live my life…la, la, la, la, la.”

I remember the first time I heard this song on the radio while driving in my car.  It was just earlier this year, and I felt like my spirit was going to jump out of my body!  I loved it from the beginning!  The beat, the musicality and the lyrics made me want to get up and dance.  But I’m getting ahead of myself…

My love of dancing started at the tender age of 14.  Born and raised on the border of Mexico, it seemed like every other girl my age was preparing for or having a quinceañera (a big, 15th birthday party).  It’s the equivalent of an American Sweet 16 celebration.  Only, where I come from, it’s comparable to a mini-wedding.  While I had the option of having one, I was not interested.

Thus, I became everyone’s dama (English translation: lady—similar to a bridesmaid), which meant I got to dance in my fair share of quinceañeras.  I was in so many that I did not feel like I missed out by not having my own.  I was quite familiar with the whole process, and enjoyed it.

Being turned while dancing in my very first quinceañera.  I was hooked!

Typically, an instructor from Matamoros would come and teach us adolescents how to dance.  We learned traditional waltzes, cumbias, guapangos, and line dancing (to name a few).  Usually, there were fourteen couples made up of 7 damas and 7 chambelanes (chamberlains, or gentlemen).  The birthday girl’s partner made it a total of 15 accompanying dancers.  I absolutely loved performing at these traditional parties.  And, it taught me how to dance with a partner.

While I did not do any salsa dancing during this time, it gave me the foundation I needed for it.  Originating in Cuba, salsa is similar to the traditional Mexican cumbia.  I learned how to dance this when I lived in Des Moines, Iowa, and instantly fell in love with it!  It was lots of fun and great exercise, too!  With a “one, two three…five, six, seven,” beat, I quickly became familiar with artists like Celia Cruz and Marc Anthony—giants in the world of salsa, if you will.

This was a fun ladies’ weekend in Minneapolis, Minnesota. We went salsa dancing and spent a day at the spa…sigh.

Marc Anthony has always been my number one salsa artist!  I am inspired to dance a little harder and sing a little louder whenever any of his songs are played.  Now that I am married with two children, I don’t get to do dancing of any sort very often.  Sure, we have dance parties in our home, but it’s not quite the same.

Beau, me and Beau’s beard at the Marc Anthony concert —it was an amazing show!

You can imagine my surprise, when just two weeks ago, I was scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed and saw that my cousin, Susan, was selling a pair of Marc Anthony tickets she and her husband had purchased.  “Marc Anthony is going to be at the State Farm Arena (our local concert venue)?!”  I could scarce believe my eyes.  I immediately commented and asked if she, in fact, was selling these tickets.  We corresponded through text and she confirmed that she would sell the tickets to Beau and me at an even greater discounted price!  We couldn’t say no!

And we are so glad we got to experience this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  The show was phenomenal.  Marc Anthony is not a big man, but he is a big performer.  His voice is amazing, and his passion permeates every lyric that comes out of his mouth.  The horn section, pianist and violinist in his band are all world-class musicians as well.  We have been to other concerts in the past, but this one blew them all out of the water!  Go ahead and see for yourself:

 

Having access to social media sites like Pinterest and Facebook makes it incredibly easy to look up exercise and food plans.  It can also lead to us (especially as women) playing the comparison game.  After months of doing Zumba a couple of times a week, my body craved a change in routine.  I was seeing no results.  My daughter was 18 months old and I was still carrying around 8 pounds of her!  The whole, “I just had a baby!” excuse had expired long before.  When I stepped on the scale every couple of weeks, I usually saw no change in the number—or worse, an increase!  I couldn’t figure out what was going on and became incredibly frustrated!

When I would casually mention this to others, there was a few times that I was met with eye rolls.  “Yeah, Giana, you really struggle with weight issues,” they seemed to say.  At just under 5 feet tall, I am petite.   However, since the tender age of 11, I have also been curvy.  And since then, like the average woman, my weight has fluctuated.

I knew something needed to change because I wasn’t feeling good about myself and lacked energy.  My eating habits are never perfect, but my family and I do strive to eat and snack on healthy food (most of the time).  I decided towards the beginning of September that I would make up my own 30 Day Challenge.  My goal was to do something active for at least 30 minutes each day.  Using the notes app on my phone, I diligently recorded my exercise (see below).

30 Day Challenge

Day 1- 3.7 mile walk with small group

Day 2- 2.4 mile walk

Day 3- 6.3 mile bike ride

Day 4- 1 hour Zumba class with mother

Day 5- 2.4 mile walk with Laura

Day 6- 30 minutes of yard work

Day 7- no exercise

Day 8- walked 2 miles with small group

Day 9- no exercise

Day 10- no exercise- still sick

Day 11- walked 1.38 miles pushing Ceci in stroller

Day 12- 15 minutes of arm exercises

Day 13- no exercise

Day 14- 1 hour of Zumba

Day 15- walked 3.39 miles with small group

Day 16- 15 minutes of arm exercises

Day 17- 1 hour of Zumba

Day 18- no exercise

Day 19- no exercise/ still sore from Zumba

Day 20- nothin/super busy week

Day 21- walked one mile with small group

Day 22- no exercise/ day 3 of tummy trouble

Day 23- biked 5.91 miles

Day 24-no exercise/ are you kidding me?! Crazy week!

Day 25- 15 minutes of arm exercises

Day 26- nothing

Day 27-walked 1.4 miles

Day 28- nothing

Day 29- walked 4.08 miles with small group

Day 30- nothing

Exercised 18/30 days

The first 6 days, as you can see, I was highly motivated!  My mistake:  I had no real accountability.  Sure, I told my husband about what I was doing, but I didn’t share with anyone else.  At least, not in the beginning.  Later in the month, I found out that a dear friend was wanting to get in shape and needed accountability.  Texting one another helped me tremendously.

I read an article, years ago, on the success of dieting programs like Weight Watchers.  The number one factor researchers said contributed to participants losing weight was simply writing down what they ate.  I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment!  Instead, I wrote down what I did each day.  This helped to encourage me and see, at the end of the 30 days, that I spent more time being active than not.

Time.  This is often the deciding factor in whether or not something happens in my life.  While being healthy is a priority of mine, I’m not willing to sacrifice quality family time for exercise.  On average, my family and I do something active together once a week (usually a bike ride).  Thus, most of the activities I participate in happen before the children wake up, or are done with them (ex: going on walks).  The exception to this rule is Zumba; that’s my time.  My exercise routine may not always look like this, but it does during this particular season of life.

It wasn’t until I got rid of our scale and quit concerning myself so much with that number that I began to see true change.  After about 3 weeks, a few people began commenting on differences they saw in me.  “You look really good,” they would say, or, “Wow, you’ve lost weight!”  To which I would simply reply, “Thank you, I’m trying.”  While losing inches (and receiving compliments) has certainly been a plus, I was reminded that it is not where I find my worth.

Whether you are a size 00, 4, 18 or anything in between, the most attractive thing you can wear is confidence.  Knowing your beauty and your worth, regardless of what the current societal standard is.  So how do we get and maintain this positive self-image in a world that is constantly telling us we fall short?  That, my friends, is another post.

Fresh, sweet basil from our garden.

This past Saturday, September 26th, a dream came true for me:  I was a vendor at the Brownsville Farmers’ Market for the very first time.  It seems like such a simple thing, growing produce and selling it.  Yet, a little over one year ago, I had no interest in growing anything (see my post, On How I Became a Gardener, to get caught up with that process).

Assorted basil dressing options.  As a vendor with a license, any value-added item that is sold needs to have the ingredients listed on the product.

The market is a great place for mother-daughter bonding time.

I sold herbs from our garden, including sweet basil, oregano and chives.  My family and I picked them the evening before, and packaged them in one quart ziplock bags to sell for $3.00.  I did not know what to expect, so I took four bags of each to sell.  We ended up completely selling out, with the exception of the last bag of oregano, that I gave to my tent neighbors after they shared free zucchini bread samples with us.

In addition to fresh herbs, I also wanted to sell a couple of value-added items.  My friend Angela, The Master Gardener, had shared basil dressing and compound butter recipes with me before.  I had made the dressing a few times, and wanted to try my hand at the butters.  I chose to make a Lemon and Chives combination, and a Garlic and Parsley one.  Altogether, I had four of each that I sold for $2.00 a piece.  The dressings had a variety of prices depending on how many ounces they held.

Compound butter-mmmm….

Eager to arrive early and get everything set up the day of the Farmers’ Market, I convinced my cute, younger sister, Erin, to help me.  There are gracious maintenance men at the market that assist vendors in setting up and tearing down.  My small group that I walk with on Saturday mornings was gracious enough to meet at Linear Park so that I could briefly exercise with them and get to work.  The whole process of me becoming a vendor took communal effort.

My sister helps set up our table.  My mom made the sign.

Once people began arriving, I was impressed by how many fellow vendors stopped by our table and inquired about our products.  It felt like we were part of a great community that hoped for the success of everyone there.  Whenever a customer passed by our table, I greeted them and asked if they wanted to try any of the samples we had on hand.  We learned a great deal in this process that will help us better prepare for next time.  Outside of completely selling out, seeing people who came to support us was the best part!

We will be back with more products in two weeks, on Saturday, October 10th.  If you would like to try some delicious basil dressing or compound butters, it is best to arrive between 9:00 and 9:45 a.m., as we quickly sold out of both!  Here’s to more Farmers’ Market days!

My first, official customers!  They may or may not be in my small group.

Mr. Fletcher and I taught middle school history together years ago. I was delighted and surprised to see him!

A sweet friend and loyal customer that has already preordered some items!

Laura was pleased with her purchase!

Even one of my piano students stopped by and bought some chives!

I used to have a self-proclaimed black thumb.  I had no desire to grow plants.  Whenever I was gifted one, I’d think, “Great… another one I will end up killing.”  My mother once gave me a mini cactus.  It required minimal care and could be kept indoors.  That died on me, too.

Destined not to be friends with growing things, I had an answer ready for whoever asked.  “Well, it’s because I’m more of a people person,”  I’d say.  “I don’t care for plants.”  When we bought our house three years ago, we inherited a dying garden bed of basil and tomato.  I considered turning it into a sandbox for my children.  Though I ignored it, the basil (that grows quite well in South Texas) continued to thrive.  Eventually, my family and I ate of the biannual herbs and enjoyed them.

When the basil came to the end of its cycle, we missed it.  It was during this time that my dear friend, Angela (a.k.a. The Master Gardener; read the poem I posted about her) asked if she could use our garden as “therapy.”  “Sure,” I thought, “why not?”  Gardening was necessary for her.  We would chat while she worked on our garden, and I would closely observe her.

She cleaned out our garden bed and turned the soil over with her own compost, and proceeded to plant some new basil.  She told me to keep an eye on it, and to water it about every other day. I learned how to properly trim it so that it would continue to grow after being harvested.

The correct way to trim basil:  look for the area where two leaves split, and trim right above it to ensure proper regeneration.

A couple of weeks later, she returned to find the basil had grown quite a bit.  “You’re an excellent basil student,” she said.  And that was all it took.  Before I knew it, she was asking me what else I wanted to grow.  “Be sure that you will eat whatever you plant,” Angela advised.  This past year, we grew chives, oregano, parsley, tomatoes, lettuce and green beans.  Over time, I fell in love with gardening.  It became therapeutic for me, too.

This was our garden in January (you can see basil, chives, lettuce, green beans and tomato).

 
Our garden area looks different during different seasons, as does life (more on gardening, life and spiritual parallels in a future post).  Angela recently moved to Florida.  My family and I have continued the tradition of making our own compost and planting herbs and vegetables.  We planted many of the same items this year, and have added corn.  Most recently, I was overjoyed to discover that I was accepted to be a vendor at the Brownsville Farmers’ Market!  I will be selling some of our basil, chives and oregano, as well as value-added items like basil dressing, pesto and compound butters (keep your eyes peeled for when that will be!).

I do not know where this journey of growing food will take me, but I am enjoying the ride!  I am convinced that people can learn how to do most anything, so long as they have a teacher that believes in them and inspires them.  Who knows? Perhaps one day I will be a Master Gardener myself.

One of my favorite things about gardening?  It’s a family affair.  This is a picture of my daughter helping in the spring, shortly after she turned one-year old.

If you are looking for a fast and easy dinner dish, this is a great one!  Often, when I am looking for a recipe, I skip long introductions to get to the main part:  the ingredients and preparation.  Thus, I am going to post that first, and the history behind this meal (which is really fun!) last.

You will need:

1-1 ½ lbs ground beef (I use lean*)
*½ or 1 whole onion (I use half)
2 large cans Hunt’s tomato sauce (generic works fine)
*1 package of mushrooms
1 tsp oregano
½ tsp garlic
1 package spaghetti noodles
*Basil (preferably fresh)
Serves about 4-6 with some leftover

*denotes ingredients we have added to the original Hesterberg spaghetti recipe

The original Hesterberg spaghetti recipe, written and passed down to me by my mother-in-law, Kathy (Reyna) Hesterberg.

Prepare noodles according to package directions.  When done, pour some olive oil over them (so they don’t stick to the pot), and mix them up with chopped up fresh basil.

The noodles tossed with olive oil and basil

Chop up onion and mushrooms, and brown them with the ground beef and garlic.  Finely break them all up over low-medium heat.  If you are not using lean ground beef, drain the fat.  Otherwise, proceed to add the oregano and tomato sauce and heat through.  Serve over spaghetti noodles.  Enjoy!

We enjoy picking fresh basil and oregano from our garden!

The marinara meat sauce really makes the dish!  My husband could literally eat this everyday and not grow tired of it.

Though I never had the privilege of meeting her, my father-in-law’s mother, Cecilia (Jones) Hesterberg,  was the first to make this spaghetti.  She passed it on to my mother-in-law, Kathy (Reyna) Hesterberg, who then passed it on to me, Giana (Gallardo) Hesterberg.  It is a favorite that we have made for family and friends here in South Texas; Des Moines, Iowa; Seattle, Washington; and most recently, Littleton, Colorado.  

We hope that you enjoy Hesterberg spaghetti and would love to hear about how you make it your own!

Grandma Ceil, the originator of the recipe.

His name is Sr. (Señor) Gallegos, and every couple of weeks for the past three years (as long as we have lived in our home), he has cut and trimmed our front yard—free of charge, without expecting anything in return.  A man in his sixties, he is the father of one of our neighbors, and also cares for his son’s lawn.  If you’re anything like me, or how I used to be, you’re wondering, “What’s the catch?” or “Why is he doing that?”

In the beginning, I asked myself the same questions.  Seeing him has been one of the highlights of my children’s week.  “Hey, pretty boy!” he greets my son, with his limited English and big smile.

“Say, ‘hola,'” I coach my three-year old.

Not to be left behind, my 18-month old daughter yells, “Hiiiiii…”

“Hey, bonita (pretty)!” he responds.

And we converse—about the weather, and life.  He asks the children how they are doing and gives them high-fives.  “Mira, el futuro presidente (look at the future president),” his favorite reference for my son.

We all smile, and I come inside with the little ones, while he gets to work on cutting the grass.  He wears a white shirt, with an opened button-up on top, jeans and a cap that protects his dark skin.  Sometimes, the highs are near 100 degrees while he works outside.  And he works without complaining, encouraging me to go inside because, “es muy caliente (it’s very hot).”

He makes our house and our neighbor’s look very good, like some of the best on the block.  He was very careful initially, asking me to check with my husband to see if he wouldn’t mind Sr. Gallegos cutting our grass.  Of course, my husband didn’t mind and welcomed the help.

When he first started serving us, I would cut up fruit for him and offer him water.  On other occasions I would bake diabetic friendly treats for him and his wife.  Eventually, my daughter was born and I was not able to do anything for him in return.  This sometimes bothered me.  I felt this obligation to repay him for all he had done, though I knew that was impossible.  I would often pray about it and felt like the Lord continually said, “Giana, let him serve you.”  Let him serve you.  

The spiritual implications of observing him have been great and twofold.  First, I want to serve the way Sr. Gallegos does.  When I think of him, the verse, “Work with enthusiasm, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people,” (Ephesians 6:7, NLT) comes to mind.

His name will probably never be in a hall of fame, but my family and I will certainly remember his example.  I hope to be like him:  faithful and humble—not expecting recognition or praise, but simply doing what I am called to do.

Second, growing up in South Texas, I have been influenced by the “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours,” mentality.  I ran myself ragged as a single person through most of my twenties, constantly overextending myself by helping others, and trying to keep an “even score” with those who helped me.  It didn’t work.  I was tired and could never keep up.

Now that I am more mature and in my thirties, I often reflect and wonder, how many of us do this in our relationship with the Lord?  Burnout because we are trying to repay Him for all He’s done through our actions?  I am reminded of the verses that say, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast,” (Ephesians 2:8-9, NIV).

Is it bad to do good things?  Of course not.  And serving others is something we should always try to do, in one form or another.  But as for me, I am done with trying to repay others or somehow earn my way into Heaven.  That’s not how it works.  And I’m glad it doesn’t.  I would never be able to do enough.

When Sr. Gallegos is done loading his gas lawnmower, trimmer and weed eater into the bed of his truck, I thank him, wave and say, “Hasta luego (see you later).”

He waves back and always answers, “Si Dios quiere (if God wills it).”

And just like that, the Keeper of the Grounds gently reminds me, I still have much to learn.