<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:36:02.903-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Holidays.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-4858074929738111231</id><published>2007-11-13T18:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T15:13:50.248-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nancy Pelosi</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Nancy Pelosi celebrating her Victory&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/R0NYuKOC_SI/AAAAAAAAAGY/fUWiXPH0bD8/s1600-h/Nancy+Pelosi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/R0NYuKOC_SI/AAAAAAAAAGY/fUWiXPH0bD8/s320/Nancy+Pelosi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135045550172994850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nancy Pelosi is my inspiration leader because she is a very strong and with a lot charisma woman. It is the fir ts American woman in the history to lead the major party in the U.S congress She been representing California the eighth district since 1987, she cares about to bring the U.S troops back home from Iraq and Stop the War, Also she was elected on January 4Th 2007 speaker of the United States House of Representatives and Also she been faithing for many good causes and have many victories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She' s is great woman one their victories was when she accelerate tha HIV vaccine and given Medicaid to people whos living with Hiv/AIDS. She care a lot about human rigths around the world she was a lider that gave the freedom to the Tibet people. shes figthin with for Hispanic community so they can get wages and working to have the a education because we support this country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in her because she is a very strong and great woman, I know the she will figth with republicans &amp; President Bush to bring our American troops home, and fitgth for the rigths of immigrants so they can have more opportunities and their kids can go to college and have the same rigths the American, people because they the future of this country their famies are supportings the economy of this country too like build jobs, and open new hipanic bussines. I belive in her because she is my democratc leader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Patricia M. Guerrero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-4858074929738111231?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/4858074929738111231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=4858074929738111231&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/4858074929738111231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/4858074929738111231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/11/nancy-pelosi.html' title='Nancy Pelosi'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/R0NYuKOC_SI/AAAAAAAAAGY/fUWiXPH0bD8/s72-c/Nancy+Pelosi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-5786591016595076130</id><published>2007-11-13T16:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T16:58:47.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Los nenes PIcs</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="visibility:visible;"&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://widget-84.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" height="320" width="426" style="width:426px;height:320px"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://widget-84.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="scale" value="noscale" /&gt;&lt;param name="salign" value="l" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt; &lt;param name="flashvars" value="cy=ms&amp;il=1&amp;channel=1224979098645326980&amp;site=widget-84.slide.com"/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=ms&amp;ad=0&amp;id=1224979098645326980&amp;map=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-84.slide.com/p1/1224979098645326980/ms_t015_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=ms&amp;ad=0&amp;id=1224979098645326980&amp;map=2" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-84.slide.com/p2/1224979098645326980/ms_t015_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-5786591016595076130?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/5786591016595076130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=5786591016595076130&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/5786591016595076130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/5786591016595076130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/11/los-nenes-pics.html' title='Los nenes PIcs'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-8255550946059965013</id><published>2007-11-06T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T18:30:53.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Neighborhood.</title><content type='html'>I love my neigborhood because it is a nice, clean,quiet and secure place to live, and the neigbors are good people.  But I also like my neigborhood  because it is close by the freeway 94, there are recreations parks where you can walk and breath the fresh air,, and there is close to the Mall Stores, school and library.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had so much fun in The summer time  because I swan in the outdoor swimming pool that is only open in summertime.  And every year we  enjoy The national nigth out.  This is when all the neighbors meet in the parking  lot  and we eat hot dogs,drink lemonade and also everybody bring a plate to share.  We play games and chat and meet all the neighbors in the building.  My building is close to Beatle Creek park where you can have a BBQ with family &amp; friends and enjoy the panorama of the beautiful nature.  You see the the ducks swimming on the beautiful lake and the deer running between the trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer time is my favorite season of the year because you spend time with family &amp; friends,  and have so much fun and enjoy  the beautiful weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Patricia M. Guerrero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-8255550946059965013?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/8255550946059965013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=8255550946059965013&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/8255550946059965013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/8255550946059965013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-neighborhood.html' title='My Neighborhood.'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-6913593578948894108</id><published>2007-11-04T15:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T08:26:28.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Potrait</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I love this song&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gCeA2lHt6lM" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Momma please stop cryin, I can't stand the sound &lt;br /&gt;Your pain is painful and its tearin' me down &lt;br /&gt;I hear glasses breakin as I sit up in my bed &lt;br /&gt;I told dad you didn't mean those nasty things you&lt;br /&gt;said &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You fight about money, bout me and my brother &lt;br /&gt;And this I come home to, this is my shelter &lt;br /&gt;It ain't easy growin up in World War III &lt;br /&gt;Never knowin what love could be, you'll see &lt;br /&gt;I don't want love to destroy me like it has done&lt;br /&gt;my family &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can we work it out? Can we be a family? &lt;br /&gt;I promise I'll be better, Mommy I'll do anything &lt;br /&gt;Can we work it out? Can we be a family? &lt;br /&gt;I promise I'll be better, Daddy please don't&lt;br /&gt;leave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy please stop yellin, I can't stand the sound&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make mama stop cryin, cuz I need you around &lt;br /&gt;My mama she loves you, no matter what she says&lt;br /&gt;its true &lt;br /&gt;I know that she hurts you, but remember I love&lt;br /&gt;you, too &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran away today, ran from the noise, ran away &lt;br /&gt;Don't wanna go back to that place, but don't have&lt;br /&gt;no choice, no way &lt;br /&gt;It ain't easy growin up in World War III &lt;br /&gt;Never knowin what love could be, well I've seen &lt;br /&gt;I don't want love to destroy me like it did my&lt;br /&gt;family &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can we work it out? Can we be a family? &lt;br /&gt;I promise I'll be better, Mommy I'll do anything &lt;br /&gt;Can we work it out? Can we be a family? &lt;br /&gt;I promise I'll be better, Daddy please don't&lt;br /&gt;leave &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our family portrait, we look pretty happy &lt;br /&gt;Let's play pretend, let's act like it comes&lt;br /&gt;naturally &lt;br /&gt;I don't wanna have to split the holidays &lt;br /&gt;I don't want two addresses &lt;br /&gt;I don't want a step-brother anyways &lt;br /&gt;And I don't want my mom to have to change her&lt;br /&gt;last name &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our family portrait we look pretty happy &lt;br /&gt;We look pretty normal, let's go back to that &lt;br /&gt;In our family portrait we look pretty happy &lt;br /&gt;Let's play pretend, act like it goes naturally &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our family portrait we look pretty happy &lt;br /&gt;(Can we work it out? Can we be a family?) &lt;br /&gt;We look pretty normal, let's go back to that &lt;br /&gt;(I promise I'll be better, Mommy I'll do&lt;br /&gt;anything) &lt;br /&gt;In our family portrait we look pretty happy &lt;br /&gt;(Can we work it out? Can we be a family?) &lt;br /&gt;Let's play pretend act and like it comes so&lt;br /&gt;naturally &lt;br /&gt;(I promise I'll be better, Daddy please don't&lt;br /&gt;leave) &lt;br /&gt;In our family portrait we look pretty happy &lt;br /&gt;(Can we work it out? Can we be a family?) &lt;br /&gt;We look pretty normal, let's go back to that &lt;br /&gt;(I promise I'll be better, Daddy please don't&lt;br /&gt;leave) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy don't leave &lt;br /&gt;Daddy don't leave &lt;br /&gt;Daddy don't leave &lt;br /&gt;Turn around please &lt;br /&gt;Remember that the night you left you took my&lt;br /&gt;shining star? &lt;br /&gt;Daddy don't leave &lt;br /&gt;Daddy don't leave &lt;br /&gt;Daddy don't leave &lt;br /&gt;Don't leave us here alone &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom will be nicer &lt;br /&gt;I'll be so much better, I'll tell my brother &lt;br /&gt;Oh, I won't spill the milk at dinner &lt;br /&gt;I'll be so much better, I'll do everything right &lt;br /&gt;I'll be your little girl forever &lt;br /&gt;I'll go to sleep at night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Pink&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-6913593578948894108?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/6913593578948894108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=6913593578948894108&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/6913593578948894108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/6913593578948894108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/11/family-potrait.html' title='Family Potrait'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-1840965933156301402</id><published>2007-09-18T11:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T14:11:25.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am From</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed src="http://widget-55.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&amp;amp;il=1&amp;amp;channel=432345564239876949&amp;amp;site=widget-55.slide.com" style="width:400px;height:320px" name="flashticker" align="middle"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&amp;amp;ad=0&amp;amp;id=432345564239876949&amp;amp;map=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-55.slide.com/p1/432345564239876949/bb_t011_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&amp;amp;ad=0&amp;amp;id=432345564239876949&amp;amp;map=2" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-55.slide.com/p2/432345564239876949/bb_t011_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/d&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Am From Mexico.  The land of the most beautiful brown skin.&lt;br /&gt;     The beautiful Mexican flag that has three colors,&lt;br /&gt;     Green is "HOPE", for The Independence movement.&lt;br /&gt;     White is "PURITY" for The Purity of the Catholic Faith.&lt;br /&gt;     Red is "UNION" for The Spaniards joined in the quest for&lt;br /&gt;     Independence is red The blood of National Heroes.&lt;br /&gt;I Am from Chichen  Itza Pyramids of Yucatan that now became 1 of&lt;br /&gt;     the New Wonders of the World.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Am From My Grandmother's Hot Chocolate &amp; Sweet Bread That She&lt;br /&gt;     used to make to feed their Grandchindren.&lt;br /&gt;I Am From the fields of my Grandfather that worked so hard to&lt;br /&gt;     give his children a better Education.&lt;br /&gt;I Am From the fishes that my cousins &amp; I caught in the river every&lt;br /&gt;     mornings of our childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Am From Divorced Parents.&lt;br /&gt;     My Father forced me to choose between My Mother &amp; Him.&lt;br /&gt;     From My Mother Who worked hard to buy me The Barbie Doll that&lt;br /&gt;     I wanted for my 8Th Birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Am From My 2 Sister's annoyed noise that they used to make to woke&lt;br /&gt;     me up and forced me to go to church every Sunday morning.&lt;br /&gt;I Am From My Big brother, The "Mr. Perfect" Who told everybody that&lt;br /&gt;     he never make any Mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;           By: Patricia M. Guerrero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-1840965933156301402?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/1840965933156301402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=1840965933156301402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/1840965933156301402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/1840965933156301402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-am-from.html' title='I Am From'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-2126238430935577498</id><published>2007-09-13T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T16:57:11.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mexico en la piel</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xbaT5CIC8-8"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xbaT5CIC8-8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como una mirada hecha en Sonora&lt;br /&gt;Vestida con el mar de Cozumel&lt;br /&gt;Con el color del sol por todo el cuerpo&lt;br /&gt;Asi se lleva Mexico en la piel&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Como el buen tequila de esta tierra&lt;br /&gt;O como un amigo de Yucatan&lt;br /&gt;Y en Aguascaliente  deshilados&lt;br /&gt;O una lana tejida en Teotitlan&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Asi se siente Mexico, asi se siente Mexico,&lt;br /&gt;Asi como unos labios por la piel&lt;br /&gt;Asi te envuelve Mexico, asi te sabe Mexico&lt;br /&gt;Y asi se lleva Mexico en la piel&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Como ver la sierra de Chihuahua&lt;br /&gt;O artesania en San Miguel&lt;br /&gt;Remontar el cerro de la silla&lt;br /&gt;Asi se lleva Mexico en la piel.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Como acompanarse con mariachi&lt;br /&gt;Para hacer llorar a esa cancion&lt;br /&gt;Que en el sur se toca con marimba&lt;br /&gt;Y en el norte con acordeon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asi se siente Mexico, asi se siente Mexico,&lt;br /&gt;Asi como unos labios por la piel&lt;br /&gt;Asi te envuelve Mexico, asi te sabe Mexico&lt;br /&gt;Y asi se lleva Mexico en la piel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como un buen sarape de Saltillo&lt;br /&gt;Como bienvenida en Veracruz&lt;br /&gt;Con la emocion de un beso frente a frente&lt;br /&gt;Asi se lleva Mexico en la piel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como contemplar el mar Caribe&lt;br /&gt;Descubrir un bello amanecer&lt;br /&gt;Tener fresca brisa de Morelia&lt;br /&gt;La luna acariciando a una mujer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asi se siente Mexico, asi se siente Mexico,&lt;br /&gt;Asi como unos labios por la piel&lt;br /&gt;Asi te envuelve Mexico, asi te sabe Mexico&lt;br /&gt;Y asi se lleva Mexico en la piel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   By :M y L: Juan Zaizar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-2126238430935577498?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/2126238430935577498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=2126238430935577498&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/2126238430935577498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/2126238430935577498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/09/mexico-en-la-piel.html' title='Mexico en la piel'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-2914612544833201081</id><published>2007-09-13T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T12:01:02.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emergency In Darfur</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BwrxPXvvaCs"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BwrxPXvvaCs" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emergency in Darfur, broadcast premiere on HDNet on Tuesday, September 25 - 10:00 PM ET/ 7:00 PM PT- http://www.hd.net Darfur, Sudan is being called the worst humanitarian crisis in the world today. Tens of thousands of people have died. Two million more have been forced to flee their homes and livelihoods. For these innocent civilians, living on the edge of survival, their only hope is the dwindling number of humanitarian organizations willing to risk the dangers on the ground in Darfur to provide relief. International Medical Corps was one of the first relief organizations to arrive on the scene in Darfur, and remains there to this day. Established in 1984 by volunteer doctors and nurses, IMC provides help in more than 25 countries and regions worldwide that have been ravaged by war and disaster. IMC's network of some 5,000 doctors, nurses and other health care professionals makes it one of the fastest, most effective emergency response agencies in the world. In Darfur, IMC has been providing critical emergency medical services to a target population of about 300,000. This includes operating seven primary health care centers and two mobile clinics aimed at improving access to health care, nutritional assistance, and clean water and sanitation. These facilities provide family medicine; pre-natal, maternal, and child health care; immunizations; referrals and transportation for secondary care; and health and hygiene education. IMC also has rehabilitated local health care facilities, providing medicines, supplies and health care training to local professionals. For more information&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-2914612544833201081?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/2914612544833201081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=2914612544833201081&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/2914612544833201081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/2914612544833201081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/09/emergency-in-darfur.html' title='Emergency In Darfur'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-1932813922044038974</id><published>2007-09-11T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T15:30:55.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Idol  Luis Miguel</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="visibility:visible;"&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://widget-48.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" height="320" width="426" style="width:426px;height:320px"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://widget-48.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="scale" value="noscale" /&gt;&lt;param name="salign" value="l" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"/&gt; &lt;param name="flashvars" value="cy=ms&amp;il=1&amp;channel=504403158276457544&amp;site=widget-48.slide.com"/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=ms&amp;ad=0&amp;id=504403158276457544&amp;map=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-48.slide.com/p1/504403158276457544/ms_t016_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=ms&amp;ad=0&amp;id=504403158276457544&amp;map=2" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-48.slide.com/p2/504403158276457544/ms_t016_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Luis Miguel&lt;br /&gt;AKA Luis Miguel Gallego Basteri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Born: 19-Apr-1970&lt;br /&gt;Birthplace: San Juan, Puerto Rico&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gender: Male&lt;br /&gt;Race or Ethnicity: Hispanic&lt;br /&gt;Sexual orientation: Straight&lt;br /&gt;Occupation: Singer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nationality: Mexico&lt;br /&gt;Executive summary: No se tú&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father: Luisito Rey (guitarist)&lt;br /&gt;Mother: Marcela Basteri (actress)&lt;br /&gt;Brother: Sergio (younger)&lt;br /&gt;Brother: Alejandro (younger)&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend: Brigitte Nielsen (actress, ex-)&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend: Sofia Vergara (model, ex-)&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend: Gabriela Sabatini (tennis player)&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend: Princess Stephanie (royalty, dated 1991)&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend: Myrka Dellanos (TV host, broken engagement)&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend: Aracely Arámbula Jacques (Mexican soap opera star/singer, one son)&lt;br /&gt;Son: Miguel (b. 1-Jan-2007)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Grammy (four times)&lt;br /&gt;    Hollywood Walk of Fame 7060 Hollywood Blvd.&lt;br /&gt;    Naturalized Mexican Citizen &lt;br /&gt;    Spanish Ancestry Paternal&lt;br /&gt;    Italian Ancestry Maternal&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-1932813922044038974?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/1932813922044038974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=1932813922044038974&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/1932813922044038974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/1932813922044038974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/09/luis-miguel.html' title='My Idol  Luis Miguel'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-5049401457106518851</id><published>2007-09-06T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T16:19:27.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sweet in Mexico</title><content type='html'>I love my Home when I Lived in Mexico because it was cozy and beautiful.  It had 3 , a kitchen and livingroom.  It lso had a small garden with a papaya tree but it was a small house.  This is house was very special for me because I had very good memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these was the first house that My parents bought when they got married.  Also in this house My Brother's and I were born and grew up.  in this neighborhood i made the best friends of my childhood.  My friends and I  spent a lot of time together.These ths most wonderful years of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately when my paren's separed my Dad decided to sell the house.  It was sold so quicly because It was built in the downtown of the City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2001  when I went back to Mexico for a vacation ansd visited my  Granparents.  I went back to the neigborhoodwhere my house was built.  but i had this big surprised that tha house was had demolishedby the new owner, and now is a bus station.  I missed my house because i had so many good memories&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-5049401457106518851?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/5049401457106518851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=5049401457106518851&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/5049401457106518851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/5049401457106518851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-sweet-in-mexico.html' title='My Sweet in Mexico'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-3590030227740423866</id><published>2007-08-27T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T18:14:48.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In My Son's World.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;By: Anonymous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Writer's toddler son has been diagnosed with autism.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My son cried all night last night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I long to help him, but I cant'n. He is&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;autistic, they tell me locked inside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;himself, inside a world that doctors&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;tell me I have no access to. I don't &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;know what he wants. He put his &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;hands and my my face and cries, "Mama,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;mama,"one of the few words he can&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;say. And I feel my heart break and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;shatter because I can't help him. It's &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;like when water freezes and splits &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;open a rock; thereis no way to &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;mend it, there is no way to stop it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My heart will always be scarred and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;broken by his tears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;When I first learned of his&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;diagnosis, I was determined to pull&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;him into my world. I sat endlessull&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;trying to make him speak, make him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;look, make him do. And then slowly &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I began to relize that his world is &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;beautiful, too. I stopped trying to &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;yank him in to my world and instead tried to enter his.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We sit for hours at the fountain in town watching&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;the water skip over the stones and cascade into the pool&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;below. We fall asleep watching snowflakes drift lazily&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;past the window, his cheek against mine, his hand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;holding my little finger. We watch a bug make his way&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;up to the wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I learn things about him. He loves the color blue. He&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;likes Led Zeppelin and country music. He can't stand still&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;when he hears the opening bars of a song he likes; he &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;dances and giggles and gurgles until we all giggle, too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;He loves without restraint, without&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;malice . His heart is so innocent and so pure. It is breath-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;taking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;he sees things no one else sees: To me me it is a stone; to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;him it is a universe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I read in a book once that having a child with special&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;needs is like getting an airplane for a trip. You think&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;you are going to Venice, but then, the stewardess tell&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;you that you landede in Holland. Well, you can&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;spend your time crying for the gondolas, or you can get&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;out and enjoy the winmills. It's not quiet what you had&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;espected, but it is beautiful all the same.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So I call himmy little Dutch boy. To rememenber that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;windmills are as beautiful as gondolas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;By: Anonymous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-3590030227740423866?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/3590030227740423866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=3590030227740423866&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3590030227740423866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3590030227740423866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/08/in-my-sons-world.html' title='In My Son&apos;s World.'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-6363646802198187119</id><published>2007-08-03T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T15:48:17.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cancion Mixteca.  (Mixteca Song)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;Qué lejos estoy del suelo donde he nacido!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;inmensa nostalgia invade mi pensamiento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;y al verme tan solo y triste cual hoja al viento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;quisiera llorar, quisiera morir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;de sentimiento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;¡Oh tierra del sol,suspiro por verte!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;ahora que lejos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;yo vivo sin luz, sin amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;y al verme tan solo y triste cual hoja al viento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;quisiera llorar, quisiera morir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;de sentimiento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RrOh6aYQxyI/AAAAAAAAADI/eBOBI94UiCI/s1600-h/oaxaca.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094593628371732258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RrOh6aYQxyI/AAAAAAAAADI/eBOBI94UiCI/s320/oaxaca.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How far I am from the land where I was born&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Immense sadness fills my thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I see myself so alone and so sad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Like a leaf in the wind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I would like to cry I would like to die&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;From the feeling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Land of the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I long to see you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Now that I live so far from your light, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;without love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I see myself so alone and so sad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Like a leaf in the wind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By: Autor: José López Alavés&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-6363646802198187119?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/6363646802198187119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=6363646802198187119&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/6363646802198187119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/6363646802198187119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/08/cancion-mixteca-mixteca-song.html' title='Cancion Mixteca.  (Mixteca Song)'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RrOh6aYQxyI/AAAAAAAAADI/eBOBI94UiCI/s72-c/oaxaca.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-3578862429439775064</id><published>2007-08-02T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T14:12:16.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Minneapolis Bridge Collapse</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Today's big story, of course, is the &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a class="link" href="http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/08/02/national/main3125800.shtml" target="new"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;bridge collapse&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; in Minneapolis that killed at least four people and probably significantly more. As time goes on, news outlets will shift their focus from the tragedy itself to the broader issue of the nation's infrastructure. (And indeed, it's &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a class="link" href="http://www.businessweek.com/careers/managementiq/archives/2007/08/will_private_mo.html" target="new"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;already happening&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.) News organizations, including CBS, have increasingly run stories on America's aging infrastructure over the past few years, but the Minnesota tragedy means that such pieces are about to become much more common. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RrIn7qYQxxI/AAAAAAAAADA/5og4_UP_cdE/s1600-h/070801_fa_eu_puente_14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094178034451269394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RrIn7qYQxxI/AAAAAAAAADA/5og4_UP_cdE/s320/070801_fa_eu_puente_14.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;They are also about to become much more dramatic, due to the collapse and the corresponding disturbing images, which can and will be used to illustrate the potential consequences of inaction. There's nothing wrong with that, so long as it's done responsibly. The problem will be if news outlets give into the temptation to sensationalize, blow way out of proportion or tabloidize. The nation's aging infrastructure is an issue we as a nation need to worry about, along with the related issue of how we'll pay for improving it. But the fact is the bridge you drive over on your way home from work almost assuredly isn't going to collapse anytime soon, and the media should not make you think it will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RrInr6YQxwI/AAAAAAAAAC4/A_FuDzBUcic/s1600-h/070801_fa_eu_puente_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094177763868329730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RrInr6YQxwI/AAAAAAAAAC4/A_FuDzBUcic/s320/070801_fa_eu_puente_4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It was also be interesting to see how the press handles the political aspects of this story. Senators Chris Dodd and Chuck Hagel will surely be widely lauded for &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a class="link" href="http://www.abcnews.go.com/Politics/wireStory?id=3437039" target="new"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;introducing legislation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; to upgrade infrastructure just hours before the collapse; how the press treats Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty is less easy to predict. After all, "[t]wo comprehensive bills that would have stepped up investment in transportation infrastructure were felled by Pawlenty vetoes, in 2005 and 2007," &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a class="link" href="http://www.mnpact.org/sblog/blog.php?id=705" target="new"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;according to&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; the Star-Tribune. (More on the 2005 bill &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a class="link" href="http://wcco.com/topstories/local_story_138164535.html" target="new"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;here&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.) The reality behind the vetoes is complex, however, and Pawlenty has expressed support for infrastructure improvements in the past. He'll surely shoulder some of the blame for what happened; the question is whether, and to what degree, the media treats him as scapegoat.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-3578862429439775064?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/3578862429439775064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=3578862429439775064&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3578862429439775064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3578862429439775064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/08/minneapolis-bridge-collapse.html' title='Minneapolis Bridge Collapse'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RrIn7qYQxxI/AAAAAAAAADA/5og4_UP_cdE/s72-c/070801_fa_eu_puente_14.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-7710265646928576845</id><published>2007-07-30T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T18:08:54.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Most Beatiful thing.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;My Niece Cynthia&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/Rq9YmKYQxnI/AAAAAAAAABk/dGjIQSVwHMI/s1600-h/cynthia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093387116223710834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/Rq9YmKYQxnI/AAAAAAAAABk/dGjIQSVwHMI/s320/cynthia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my life I have seen a lot of beatiful things. I wake up every morning and see my family having good health and see the sun light every morning. But one of the most beatiful thing that I have ever seen in my life is very specia land Important. It was when my niece Cynthia was born in December 11th of 1999.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very special for me because she was a premature baby. She was 8 months early's. She was so tiny and fragile. She weighed only 2 pounds. I was so scared to hold her because I felt that I was going to hurt her. She Stayed in the hospital for 2 weeks before we brought her home. Through the years she has been doing well. Now she is 7 years old and going to school. I'm so happy because she is in good health. This is the most beatiful thing that God can give to my family. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-7710265646928576845?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/7710265646928576845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=7710265646928576845&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/7710265646928576845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/7710265646928576845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/07/most-beatiful-thing.html' title='The Most Beatiful thing.'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/Rq9YmKYQxnI/AAAAAAAAABk/dGjIQSVwHMI/s72-c/cynthia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-5686023739000356298</id><published>2007-07-25T06:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T18:08:56.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day Of The Dead</title><content type='html'>`&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdvjaYQxmI/AAAAAAAAABc/O_G8E9ezVOo/s1600-h/muerto1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091160557932824162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdvjaYQxmI/AAAAAAAAABc/O_G8E9ezVOo/s320/muerto1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In Mexican culture we have many traditions but one of the most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;important&lt;/span&gt; is when we celebrate The Day Of The Dead. This when Mexican families honor the member of the family who are already dead. We celebrate this tradition for 5 days,  from October 31st to November 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sd&lt;/span&gt;. We honor our dead &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;families&lt;/span&gt; members with "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ofrendas.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdvbqYQxlI/AAAAAAAAABU/VbhSi16356I/s1600-h/Altar+muertos-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091160424788837970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdvbqYQxlI/AAAAAAAAABU/VbhSi16356I/s320/Altar+muertos-02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Before we make the "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ofrendas&lt;/span&gt;" We go to the market to buy fruits, bread, food and sugar &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;candies that&lt;/span&gt; come in beautiful figures that Mexican families call "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Calaveritas&lt;/span&gt;" (skulls heads). It comes with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; name of the person who is already dead on the forehead of the "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Calaveritas&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdvSqYQxkI/AAAAAAAAABM/ZvKqvrQaHks/s1600-h/ofrejardines05-12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091160270170015298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdvSqYQxkI/AAAAAAAAABM/ZvKqvrQaHks/s320/ofrejardines05-12.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mexican families honor their dead members with a ritual called "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Ofrendas&lt;/span&gt;". This means that every &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Mexican&lt;/span&gt; family has to set an "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Ofrenda&lt;/span&gt;" in their home. It can be in the room, kitchen or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;living room&lt;/span&gt;. First you set a table and you start decorating the table with flowers, candles, fruits, bread , candies and the favorites &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;dish&lt;/span&gt; of the person who loved to eat when he or she was alive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdOkaYQxjI/AAAAAAAAABE/_AT4rzIouZI/s1600-h/muerto2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091124291228976690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdOkaYQxjI/AAAAAAAAABE/_AT4rzIouZI/s320/muerto2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Mexican families&lt;/span&gt; also celebrate during these 5 days the "Little Angel" and the "Big Angels". The "Little Angel is the little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;children's&lt;/span&gt;. The spirit of the "Little angels" are suppose to come from October 31st to November 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;d&lt;/span&gt; to smell the food or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;stuff that&lt;/span&gt; you put in the "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Ofrendas&lt;/span&gt;". And the "Big Angels '' are the adult dead persons. Their Spirit come to you house &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;November 1st&lt;/span&gt; to November 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;d&lt;/span&gt; to eat or  smell  the "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Ofrendas&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdObKYQxiI/AAAAAAAAAA8/HdXvIrvVthU/s1600-h/muerto+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091124132315186722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdObKYQxiI/AAAAAAAAAA8/HdXvIrvVthU/s320/muerto+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Finally on November 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;d&lt;/span&gt; , all Mexican family go to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;cemetery&lt;/span&gt; to celebrate our dead families members. We bring to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;cemetery&lt;/span&gt; food, drinks, fruits, candies and Mexican dishes. So Mexican f&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;amilies spend all their day in the cementer. We pray to our dead people and play music. We clean, put flowers, holy water, candles and put pictures around of the graves. This celebration is part of our Mexican culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-5686023739000356298?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/5686023739000356298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=5686023739000356298&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/5686023739000356298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/5686023739000356298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/07/day-of-dead_25.html' title='The Day Of The Dead'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RqdvjaYQxmI/AAAAAAAAABc/O_G8E9ezVOo/s72-c/muerto1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-403569491548415707</id><published>2007-05-15T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T17:40:39.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Belived.</title><content type='html'>That you cannot make someone love you All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them. That no matter how much I care, Some people just don't care back. That it takes years to build up trust, And only seconds to destroy it. That it's not what you have in your life But who you have in your life that counts. That you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you'd better know something. That you shouldn't compare yourself To the best others can do. But to the best you can do. That it's not what happens to people that's important. It's what they do about it. That you can do something in an instant That will give you heartache for life. That no matter how thin you slice it, There are always two sides. That it's taking me a long time to become The person I want to be. That it's a lot easier To react than it is to think. That you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them. That you can keep going long after you think you can't. That we are responsible for what we do, No matter how we feel. That either you control your attitude Or it controls you. That regardless of how hot and steamy A relationship is at first, The passion fades and there had better be Something else to take its place. That heroes are the people who do what has to be done When it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences. That learning to forgive takes practice. That there are people who love you dearly, But just don't know how to show it. That money is a lousy way of keeping score. That my best friend and I can do anything Or nothing and have the best time. That sometimes the people you expect To kick you when you're down Will be the ones to help you get back up. That sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, But that doesn't give me the right to be cruel. That true friendship continues to grow, Even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love. That just because someone doesn't love you The way you want them to Doesn't mean they don't love you With all they have... That maturity has more to do with What types of experiences you've had And what you've learned from them And less to do with how many Birthdays you've celebrated. That you should never tell a child Their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, And what a tragedy it would be if they believed it. That your family won't always be there for you. It may seem funny, But people you aren't related to Can take care of you and love you And teach you to trust people again. Families aren't biological. That no matter how good a friend is, They're going to hurt you every once in a while And you must forgive them for that. That it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself. That no matter how bad your heart is broken The world doesn't stop for your grief. That our background and circumstances May have influenced who we are, But we are responsible for who we become. That sometimes when my friends fight, I'm forced to choose sides even when I don't want to. That just because two people argue, It doesn't mean they don't love each other And just because they don't argue, It doesn't mean they do. That sometimes you have to put the individual Ahead of their actions. That we don't have to change friends If we understand that friends change. That you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever. That two people can look at the exact same thing And see something totally different. That no matter how you try to protect your children, They will eventually get hurt And you will hurt in the process. That there are many ways of falling and staying in love. That no matter the consequences, Those who are honest with themselves Get farther in life. That no matter how many friends you have, If you are their pillar you will feel lonely and lost At the times you need them most. That your life can be changed in a matter of hours By people who don't even know you. That even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help. That writing, as well as talking, Can ease emotional pains. That the paradigm we live in Is not all that is offered to us. That credentials on the wall do not Make you a decent human being. That the people you care most about in life Are taken from you too soon. That although the word "LOVE" Can have many different meanings, It loses value when overly used. That it's hard to determine where to draw the line Between being nice and not hurting people's feelings And standing up for what you believe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-403569491548415707?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/403569491548415707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=403569491548415707&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/403569491548415707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/403569491548415707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-belived.html' title='I Belived.'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-3583241490214797213</id><published>2007-05-01T18:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T08:52:16.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbeque With Sheep Meat.  (Barbacoa)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RkSRHcLUWxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1pE1qjLEuP0/s1600-h/barbacoa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063331438080056082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RkSRHcLUWxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1pE1qjLEuP0/s320/barbacoa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We make this Barbacoa in Mexico on special occasions like Christmas day and family reunions. Barbacoa is a traditional dish in Mexico made from sheep meat. Barbacoa is especially hard to make, men of the family do it because it has many steps to follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First the men of the family, my grandfather and uncles go to the farm to choose a big fat sheep. After they choose the sheep, my uncles slaughter it in the backyard of the house and my grandfather take the skin off and clean it completely to prepare it for cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the sheep is ready to cook, my uncles make a hole in the ground. They put rocks and logs in the hole and light a fire. They wait until the rocks are very hot like an oven. My grandfather and uncles put palm fronds over the hole. After this my grandfather put the sheep carcass on the top of the palm fronds that are supported by the rocks cover it with avocado leaves for seasoning and flavor. We cover again with palm fronds and we put a “petate” (palm frond screen) on the top. After that we cover with dirt and cook from 3 to 4 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Barbacoa is ready to eat, we take it out of the hole and we put it on a big platter to be cut into pieces. And finally we star eating barbacoa with corn tortillas to add a delicious flavor; you can put jalapenos, salsa or guacamole. It’s very delicious. This is how we make barbacoa in Mexico.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-3583241490214797213?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/3583241490214797213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=3583241490214797213&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3583241490214797213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3583241490214797213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/05/barbeque-with-sheep-meat-barbacoa.html' title='Barbeque With Sheep Meat.  (Barbacoa)'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RkSRHcLUWxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1pE1qjLEuP0/s72-c/barbacoa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-7371134094113937849</id><published>2007-05-01T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T17:59:32.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Uncle’s Lung Cancer</title><content type='html'>In 1990, my uncle was diagnosed with lung cancer he been smoking and drinking all of his life. He went to Rehabilitation 2 times a week to stop drinking and quit smoking. He gave up cigarettes and smoked less everyday it was very difficult for him to stop that, but he finally quit completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He faced many challenges with this illness one of the most difficult was when he had surgery. The doctors said that they had to do it right away because the cancer was in a very advanced stage. The procedure for this surgery for the doctors to open his neck and make a hole in his throat. They put a tube in his neck that was connected to his stomach. The doctors said that he would no be able to eat regular food, anymore only liquids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family and I we stared to feed him with liquids and saline solution. My mother helped him and gave him support. He had chemotherapy 2 times a week to beat the cancer. This was very painful for him because they put a lot quimicals to his body that cause dryness and bruises to his skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After these 2 years of chemotherapy doctors said that they can’t do anything else to cure his cancer. My uncle died in December 31 of 1991. I hope one day they find the cure for cancer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-7371134094113937849?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/7371134094113937849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=7371134094113937849&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/7371134094113937849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/7371134094113937849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-uncles-lung-cancer.html' title='My Uncle’s Lung Cancer'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-3612152901663781345</id><published>2007-04-30T18:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T18:10:08.799-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Obesity In America</title><content type='html'>The health Department should have more programs for obesity so less people will die every year in America. Programs should show do more exercise everyday and educate us how to eat healthy with the Healthy Pyramid. We need to provide this kind of programs because obesity is a big problem in America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obesity in America is a big problem because people do not eat healthy foods. They eat foods with lo cholesterol and calories. McDonalds is where many people go to eat because it is a fast food Restaurant. Many people don’t have time to eat because they work a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is bad for our kids, because in the future the can have heart problems. They eat a lot of junk food that transfer to their body cholesterol and trasn fat is grease that you to body that’s make obesity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of our kids are also getting fat because they don’t exercise enough. Most of the kids spend their time watching television and playing video games. That’s why our kids are overweight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-3612152901663781345?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/3612152901663781345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=3612152901663781345&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3612152901663781345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3612152901663781345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/04/obesity-in-america.html' title='The Obesity In America'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-4767468988630674475</id><published>2007-04-30T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T18:10:24.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Home In Minnesota</title><content type='html'>I was very young when I left Mexico. I flew from Mexico to Los Angeles, California. My brother was waiting for me in the airport. He’s been living in this country for 20 years. When I was in California for these 3 days I really enjoy it because he brought me to this nice restaurant where they serve the best food from my town in Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second flight was in October from Los Angeles, California to Minnesota. I was so freaked out because it was very cold here, and Mexico is a very hot place. I remember it was Halloween, Oct 31st of 1998, when for the first time in my life I saw the snow. It was white and beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn’t too difficult for me to adapt in Minnesota. My brother was here to help to find a school to learn English. My only problem was the English language. I know that I always have a strong accent. I am taking classes at the MLC school to improve my English. I really like this class because I met students from other countries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my job in the hospital but it is always stressful because I see sick people, burning kids, and people dying. It’s very sad to see this everyday. I never thought that I would working in a hospital here in Minnesota and speaking English because when I came from Los Angeles it was only a vacation!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-4767468988630674475?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/4767468988630674475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=4767468988630674475&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/4767468988630674475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/4767468988630674475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/04/my-new-home-in-minnesota.html' title='My New Home In Minnesota'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-8489359362544150873</id><published>2007-04-18T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T12:00:04.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cover Letter</title><content type='html'>Patricia M. Guerrero February 1, 2007&lt;br /&gt;2150 Wilson Avenue #119&lt;br /&gt;Saint Paul, Minnesota 55119&lt;br /&gt;(612)703-5579&lt;br /&gt;Lucero1943@msn.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H.C.M.C.&lt;br /&gt;Human Resources&lt;br /&gt;701 Park Avenue South&lt;br /&gt;Minneapolis, Minnesota 55415&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Sir or Madame,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am interested in applying for the Room Service position. I have included my resume for your consideration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to work in this position, because I like to take care of patients and help them to get what services they need. I want to make them feel comfortable and help support them with their needs and concerns so that they are happier. For Spanish speaking patients, I would be able to translate any questions they might have about their nutrition and diets from their doctor’s prescriptions. I feel that this support is very important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that this would be a great opportunity for me, because I am bilingual in Spanish and English. I could serve a greater number of patients because of this. I am currently taking some English as a Second language classes at the MLC Learning Center-Rondo to further improve my English for this position. I have my high school diploma, and I plan on going to St. Paul Community College for a Spanish Interpreter degree. This job would allow me to use these skills to great benefit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been working at H.C.M.C for 2 years in the cafeteria helping Spanish speaking patients order food and translating what they are looking for. I also helped Spanish speakers find departments where they had appointments with intake staff. I have experience using patient and employee accounts to charge food at the register, so I understand the importance of record-keeping. I am a very quick leaner and a hard worker. I always want to learn more to serve people better. I have an excellent attendance record and have worked double shifts. Supervisors have relied on me to substitute when other workers have called in sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look forward to telling you more about myself. To schedule an interview, please contact me at (612)703-5579.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patricia M. Guerrero&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-8489359362544150873?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/8489359362544150873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=8489359362544150873&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/8489359362544150873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/8489359362544150873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/04/covewr-letter.html' title='Cover Letter'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628050605503148133.post-3638830177542269452</id><published>2007-04-16T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T09:03:27.794-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet 15 (Quinceanera)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RkSTxMLUWyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/YdEv50_jsyU/s1600-h/quinceanera.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063334354362850082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RkSTxMLUWyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/YdEv50_jsyU/s320/quinceanera.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mexican families have a lot of traditions, but one most of the important is when you celebrate every girl’s Sweet 15 birthday. In Spanish, she is called Quinceanera. Mexican families celebrate their girl’s Sweet 15 because it is when you are not a little girl anymore . At the age of 15 years, you become a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mexican families celebrate this event with a big party. Quinceanera’s Parents’ pay for this celebration, but they ask family members to help them. That’s how you become the Godparents of the girl. You help them buy the beautiful fancy dress, band, decorations for church, the food, and the Reception room for the party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Quinceanera gets all dress up with fancy dress she looks like a princess, we celebrate at first going to the church with family and friends . The priest gave a mass to thanks god that their girl became a woman. After the mass all family, friends, and godparents, take a lot pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the reception room the quinceanera’s first dances is the vals, She dance with his father and Godparents, After that she dance The ‘vals’ with their 8 ‘chambelanes’ with the fancy dress, after the ‘vals’ she changes her with fashion clothing and dance like disco music. After the dance, family and friends give a lot birthday presents the she open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this we eat traditional Mexican food, we cheer we drink wine, and other alcoholic drinks for the future of the quinceanera. And finally eeverybody dance and drinks all night until 6am in the morning. All this traditions make a quinceaneras.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5628050605503148133-3638830177542269452?l=patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/feeds/3638830177542269452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5628050605503148133&amp;postID=3638830177542269452&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3638830177542269452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5628050605503148133/posts/default/3638830177542269452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://patriciamguerrero.blogspot.com/2007/04/quinceanera.html' title='Sweet 15 (Quinceanera)'/><author><name>Patricia M. Guerrero</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08796052364918831849</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_M0xBkTRNbjg/RkSTxMLUWyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/YdEv50_jsyU/s72-c/quinceanera.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
