Hogar Dulce Hogar

One time when I was a little girl, my mom returned from Homemaking Evening bearing a sign made of three wooden hearts tied together with raffia. Each pink heart had one word written on it–“Hogar Dulce Hogar“–which is Spanish for “Home Sweet Home”. Every time I come home from a vacation I get that foreign phrase stuck in my head; I guess that was my mom’s way of teaching me Spanish without my knowledge. Sneaky.

I am home as home can be, and it is nice to be back where it is hot, with no strings attached. It was humid there in the Gulf of Mexico, and I had no idea how to deal with that little “glitch” in my image of the beach. For those desert rats of AZ (like myself) who don’t know about humidity, read up on it here. I wish I had taken a moment to educate myself before I left. Silly me. At any rate, I am glad to be where it is only hot, instead of hot-and-sickly-sticky. I spent a great deal of my time in Texas watching Season Two of “24” with the entire extended family (grandparents included), which was an absolute blast. I also took the opportunity to get sunburned while reading Harry Potter #7. Fabulous. Bonded a lot with my far-away cousins from Texas who I don’t get to see very often. And I ate a lot of seafood, which always floats my boat.

I have posted some of my favourite photos of the trip…

This is Adell with Clint at the Texas State Aquarium in Corpus Christi. I like this photo because it captures the “Pregnancy Glow” in my big sister. [Even though she is totally slacking and hasn’t started a blog, scrapbook, or even a journal of her pregnancy, I will try to update the world of her progress via my blog.] Doesn’t she look great, for being four months pregnant (and sick all the time)? Clint, of course, looks like a dork, because that’s what he is. Good guy, Clint.

Kyle and I drove all the way from Corpus Christi, TX to Mesa, AZ today. It was about 16 hours in the Jetta, and I am proud to say it hardly phased us. (That is, it definitely didn’t phase Kyle, who is a professional, and it only phased me a little bit at the end when we started talking about ex-girlfriends [which, for me, is always a little phasing {and the worst possible subject of discussion on a road trip with a member of the opposite sex.}]) Thank goodness for satellite radio to get us through the rough spots…
(And yes, I actually am proud of the fact that my stud-of-a-fiance can fit 50% of his daily calorie intake into one mouthful of Double-Stuff Oreo Cookies.)


This is the docent at the Alamo (that’s right, the Alamo,) in San Antonio, Texas. He is by far the most interesting-looking person I have ever seen. I didn’t catch his name but I like to imagine it is something equally interesting, like Edgar or Igor. Or Bart.

Wow. Sorry this post has been so long. I suppose mine is one of the most boring blogs in cyberspace to date… If you have stuck with me to the end of this, you must truly love me.

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
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2 Responses to Hogar Dulce Hogar

  1. Lindsey Burnham says:

    Contrary to what you believe, that blog was not boring in the least! I loved reading about your trip :o) I haven’t seen you yet, but it’s comforting just to know that you are back in Mesa.

    Just so you know, 3 people you love started new blogs: Shauna Searle (my roomie), Tessa, and Bryce and Karlie. You should go check them out. Their links are on my blog.

    p.s. I have to work ALL day long tomorrow, so it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to do your hair… I;m so sorry!

  2. Adam says:

    First Thought: Did you go up and meet that mutant character @ the Alamo? Did you actually speak to him/her/it candidly to determine its gender? Or are you assuming it’s a man?

    Second Thought: I would name it Stew if it was a man and Scarlet if it was a woman. I like to tag crazies with those names.

    Third Thought: I know exactly what it’s like to ride in awkward silence after an overly-“honest” response to a seemingly harmless ex-girlfriend question. That’s rough. Poor, poor fiance.

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