The elevator opened up on the third floor and I ran into Eric and another student. “Hi,” I said, caught a little offguard.

“Hey,” Eric responded. A long time ago, he was a mocoso first year fresh out of high school. Now he’s still mocoso, but he’s in his fourth year and will be graduating soon. “Whoa, you look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t,” I said. I had actually just left campus an hour earlier to go home, shower and change and return without even taking a short nap in time for a meeting and my last class.

That’s what last week was like. I stayed up all night, and all day. I saw more of my laptop than my roommate (she thinks I’m moving out or something). I even wrote while I was sitting in traffic and el Venado drove. The week sucked, but I let it get like that so I can’t blame anyone by myself.

By Friday around 6:30, I was done with everything. The paper and research proposal were in, I had presented each in class, and had attended the final meetings for the quarter of my Research Apprenticeship Courses (RACs). The official finals week had yet to begin and I was done. It felt nice.

I spent some time with el Venado on Friday evening and the next day I went home to Hacienda Heights. My Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni were the only ones there. They had just returned from visiting one of my aunts and were wondering about the rest of the missing familia. Dad, Danny and Adrian were out golfing. Lori was at work. Mom was shopping in preparation for the Virgen de Guadalupe festivities. I lef the quiet and nicely decorated house and took VR for a walk. I left again to go get my eyebrow and upper lip waxed but not without first telling my grandfather where I was going.

“Papá Chepe, ahorita regreso. Voy a quitarme las cejas,” I told him. (I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get my eyebrows waxed.)

“No, no te las quites. Te van a dejar muy pelona, te ves bien,” he told me. (No, don’t take them out. They’re going to leave them too bald, you look fine.)

I gotta love my Papá Chepe. I didn’t listen anyway, and instead went through the semi-torturous experience of getting my upper lip and eyebrows waxed (ow, ow, ow!). I returned to the house with puffy eyebrows and returned to my draft and began working on a piece on la Virgen de Guadalupe (see blogging.la). Soon after the house filled up with people again and my mom began cooking tacos de papa for Danny’s birthday. She pulled me away from my writing and conversation with el Venado.

“Se te van a enfriar los tacos” she reminded me for the third time. (Your tacos are going to get cold).

“Okay, I’m going, I’m going,” I yelled for the third time, but with more sincerity.

“Hey, I need to go eat,” I told el Venado. “We’re having tacos de papa for Danny’s birthday.”

“Oh no! You cut up poor VR [also known as Papas] to make tacos?!” he asked incredulously.

“No, dork.”

I swear, he’s usually not that corny.