Dear Diary, Te Quiero Español

Dear Diary,
Hola! Me llamo Bellaray. Me gusten los gatos!

Diary, Diary, Diary! Today this señora, Señora Juanita, came to Cotton Plains Middle School and taught us Spanish! She comes every martes and jueves, which is Tuesday and Thursday, for second period F.U.N. class! F.U.N stands for "Fulfilling Uppermost Necessities." Everyday we have a different F.U.N period that rotates between music, gym, art, and Spanish--my favorite. Did you know that once upon a time Texas was not America, but is was Mexico. I learned this in history. And did you know that Taco Bell is not bonafide Mexican food. Señora Juanita said that not only is taco bell not "authentic," whatever that means, but the cute little small dog that also speaks Spanish is not really a Mexican dog. Señora Juanita said that in Mexico city--which is cool because the city is named after the entire country--no one serves cheese or sour cream on their tacos! But I don't mind because cheese makes my stomach all grumbling because I am "lactose intolerant."

Speaking of tolerance, I think the Petroskys are meat intolerant. That or they're what Auntie Mary Joans calls "vegetarian" because I never see them eat any meat. More so, the other day this hen, Halinka, disappeared and the only clue we had to her disappearance were these canine paw prints imprinted in the mud. What was crazy is that Mr. Petrosky cried and even dug a grave for the bird, and placed her nest inside the grave! Then he told Lulu and I that it was all our fault his chicken had been eaten, because apparently the latch to the hen house had been left unlocked, allowing any creature to push its way inside. Mr. Petrosky became so enraged that he began to speak in the same tongue as Mrs. Petrosky, shouting at her with bites of english like, "orphans", "no good", and "no respect for cooking."

I didn't like his yelling so I silently practiced counting in spanish in my mind. "Uno, dos, tres, cuatro" until I got all the way to treinta-cuatro. Then I started going over the animals we learned today, "el conejito, el gato, el perro." Thankfully by the time I got to days of the week he had calmed down and told us to go finish our homework at our desk in our room. I don't think I have ever been so happy to do homework!

I have to tell you a secret, Diary. Sometimes, late at night when I can't go to sleep, I crumple Miss Brenda's piece of paper with her number written on it, and I pretend that I'm still at her house that smells like Dennys and leather. And I pretend that she didn't call the orphanage, but that she just sent me to a babysitter like Auntie Mary Joans use to do with me. I like to think that when I wake up in the morning, the babysitter will be gone and I'll be at Miss. Brenda's house waiting for her to get back from her second job at the western store--filling up on cinnamon rolls and waiting to go to Wal-Mart.

But every morning I wake up to the smell of sludgy kasha and the crackling alarm of the young rooster.

You're really my best best friend,
Love,
Bellaray Dave