Pollo Campero

No trip to Guatemala would be complete without a meal at Pollo Campero, Guatemala's gift to the world. Pollo Campero, translate: Country Chicken, opened in 1971 in Guatemala. This year there will be one opening in Shanghai and in Downtown Disney.

So on Tuesday, with the help of Dick Rutgers, a longtime local volunteer, we loaded up 5 young ladies from the Teenager Ward at the hospital and made the bumpy ride along the cobblestone streets across Central Park to the Chicken Camp. I had fallen quickly for Mercedes so I was pushing her wheelchair. According to Dick, she had been left on the steps of a local church as a baby with a broken leg. She has cerebral palsy and the folks at the hospital believe she's around 19 years old although they don't know for sure. She in nonverbal but she can totally communicate by looking at her face. She is always smiling but she lets you know with her eyes if another girl is not having a good day or if there is a nurse not being nice. She is my favorite of all the people at the hospital. She had the heaviest chair of the group and I got a full fledge workout just going those few blocks. Mercedes loved every minute of it though and her smile was much more rewarding than any weight I must have lost sweating away.

When we arrived we all ordered quickly and waited just a short time for our food. Apparently a few years back when Dick first started bringing the kids out to lunch he would wait upwards of forty minutes before anyone would wait on him. Guatemalans view the disabled as second class citizens and the workers didn't want to wait on them or be see talking to them. Dick said people would refuse to move out of the way of the wheelchairs and some drivers would even speed up if they were crossing the street. Thank God the mindset has began to change. One family at the restaurant that Tuesday even came over to our table showing much concern for the girls and asking about them.Several of the girls have restrictions on what they can eat so we fed them soft food, like stuff you'd feed a baby. Mercedes, Guadelupe (I'll tell you about her in a bit) and Curly we fed flan, mashed potatoes , and strawberry milkshakes out of baby bottles. Not the healthiest meal ever but considering these girls had not been out taken out of the hospital since December we figured they deserved it.

Guadelupe is a smiley girl but her smiles turned to full fledge laughter when she somehow showered me with her strawberry milkshake. Her laughter was a wonderful sound to us and for the rest of the lunch every time she looked at me she would begin to laugh hysterically again. And like the workout pushing Mercedes, Guadalupe's extreme pleasure of covering my with milkshake was worth all the stickiness I had to endure.

I felt as though I had bonded a bit with Guadalupe so when the time came to go back to the hospital I claimed her wheelchair (it was the lightest of the groups).

We had a nice time strolling back through Central Park and stopping for a few pictures in front of the fountain that is dated back to the 1500s.

The food at Pollo Campero is awful, my extra crispy 2 piece chicken and mashed potatoes were the worst I've ever had, but the company that day I'll never forget. I'll keep Mercedes and Lupe in my heart forever.

Hermano Pedro Tuesday, June 22

It would have been very easy for me to turn around and leave. When I first entered the children's ward I was so overwhelmed I thought I might lose my breath (which might have been a good thing considering the smell). There were what seemed like hundreds of children all lined up against the walls strapped into wheelchairs. Some were covered with mosquito netting so bugs and flies would now crawl into their open mouths and eyes. Most of the children where starring into space and slobbering. I thought to myself I will never make it through this day let alone this trip. There were a few little fellows zipping along in a more open area. Some with stand up wheelchairs and one with a head controlled wheelchair, and they were so darn cute. Angela turned to us and said, "well, ok, pick one". Pick one? Was Angela crazy? This exactly wasn't like going to the pond for a new puppy. These were children, someone's most precious possessions, a little person with a heart and a soul and a mind, no matter how functioning, and I was just supposed to pick one? There would be no way I could possibly help any of these kids. This was way beyond a small group of volunteers. I was starting to think hiking Volvan Agua would be a nice way to spend the day, and then Angela handed me Perla.

She had gorgeous black curls and a total of 4 teeth, all that were fully covered with bright silver mercury filled fillings. She was expressionless, just looking out to nowhere. I sat down and said one of the few spanish things I knew, "hola Perla", and suddenly her face wasn't so expressionless,maybe she had heard me? I was wishing that I had learned at least one spanish song, but since I hadn't I started counting. By the time I got to diez I got a full fledged smile. This precious little girl, who would never walk, talk, sit up, or probably ever eat solid food, she just smiled at me.

I guess I held Perla there for about an hour or so. I sang the days of the week and counted to ten probably one hundred times and she seemed happy the whole time. It was amazing.

Later I held Patita. She was a little more aware than Perla, she could sit up a little with alot of help. She didn't have Perla's cute curls. Instead she had a buzz cut, shorter than most of the boys. I really liked her. She wasn't as cute and cuddly as some of the other children. Dick Rutgers, one of the main volunteers that has been there for years, said that she was one that didn't usually get a lot of attention. I liked her so much that she's the one I went and found after lunch that day and every day after. I sent about 3 hours with her that first day. I even fed her, which basically amounted to me holding her while her iv bag drained through her feeding tube. I sang the days of the week, counted, and shouted fiesta over and over again. I taught her the C-A-T-S- cheer and told her about the Wildcats. When I started moving her arms up int he air for the "Fiesta" cheer and the "Cats" cheer she started to laugh. She started to laugh out loud. What an amazing sound! Angels could have came from heaven up above and sang and it would not have sounded so sweet.

I was so overwhelmed when I had first walked in but by the end of the day I had made several wonderful new friends, Patita being one of my favorites. I guess Angela wasn't so crazy after all.

Congratulations to Abby Sunderland

All the criticism surrounding the parents of Abby Sunderland has got me thinking. I'm thinking about my upcoming trip to Guatemala. Is it too dangerous? Possibly, I've been told most every store has armed guards at the door. Angela has warned me that when we get off the plane there will be hundreds of men behind barricades yelling for us to ride with them or use their phone. There will also be lots of men with ak47s or some sort of machine guns. Of course, people get shot here in Kentucky all the time. Just watch the local news for the first ten minutes, it will be full of shootings, stabbings, and other crimes. Is there a chance of mother nature becoming agitated? Earthquakes? Volcanoes? Hurricanes? Well I believe recent news reports have answered those questions. Those things could happen here (well except the volcano). The New Madrid fault lies just west of Kentucky. I could be eating Barbecue in Western Kentucky with my family and be swallowed up by the earth before I even order my peach cobbler. I'm sure the folks camping in Arkansas had no idea their campground was going to turn into rushing river waters in the middle of the night. The truth is, I could die or be killed in any number of ways. I could get hit by a car walking out my back door. The way my seventeen year old pulls into the driveway, it's not that inconceivable! Hey we're all going to go sometime right? Chances are it's not going to be some way really cool like being swallowed up by a giant sink hole. I've always wanted to just spontaneously combust, that way there would be no body to have to deal with, no funeral fees or burial plot - just natures way of cremation. I'll probably end up in a hospital bed full of tubes and wires going out the one way I don't want to, hanging on for dear life (no pun intended). I'm getting off subject though...
Do I think I'll die in Guatemala? Of course not. Who in their right mind would plan a trip of a lifetime and more importantly finance that trip thinking they were going to get there just to die? That's just stupid.
So this is why I find myself defending Abby Sunderland's parents. ( I knew I had a point to this story). They would have never sent their daughter out to conquer her dream if they thought she might die. They must of believed she could do it and for that I not only defend them, I praise them.
In this world of 5 tv homes, video game crazed kids and boring lives the Sunderlands challenged their kids to get up and go live life. To participate to the fullest, to work hard and actually try to accomplish awesome goals. While most of us are sitting on our overweight bums watching reality tv, these kids were out actually living.
Most of you know I have big dreams for my kids. I've mentioned hundred of times that I want Flynn to be a National Geographic explorer. I hope I'm the parent that can not only encourage his hopes and dreams but also help him accomplish them, even if that means I make the difficult decision of letting him go.

A Physcologist or a Lottery Ticket

Is it considered talking to yourself when you're not actually speaking out loud? I couldn't sleep last night after the Celtics/Lakers playoff game (Go Rondo), so I laid in bed and had a 2 hour conversation playing in my head.
Actually it was more of an interview. An interview with Oprah Winfrey to be exact. She was interviewing me because I had recently won the lottery and signed all the winnings over to the Red Cross. This act of charity had somehow managed to get me 15 minutes of fame, much like when baby Jessica fell in the well or more recently any of the forty women Tiger Woods had escapades with.
I'm invited to Oprah Winfrey's home in Hawaii for the interview but I decline, it's February, and basketball season here in Kentucky and I've managed to score floor seats for my family for the game (again, because of my act of charity and 15 minutes of fame). (I'm well aware that it is currently June but in my head this is all happening in the future, yet another bizarre aspect I may want to discuss with my physcologist that I obviously need). So, Oprah flies to Lexington for our interview. She accompanies me to the UK game where I actually get to be the Y at the end of the KENTUCKY cheer during a second half time out. Oprah gets to do the Y too, I mean come on, she is Oprah Winfrey after all.
We discuss several things. I tell her I donated the money because quite frankly, it was all a bit overwhelming. There are lots of charities I would have liked to give to, The Kings Center in Frankfort, The Lupus Foundation of America, a start up fund for a state of the art physical therapy center for children and adults of all ages for my friend Angie, and the foundation I want to start, Lasting Memories, which would send deserving low income families on a vacation of a lifetime. I knew I would never be able to get it all donated and figured out, plus I was scared I would end up blowing most of it on things I didn't truly need like a 3 story brown stone in Brooklyn or an upper east side penthouse in Manhattan.
We talk about my mom and my Mema, their hardships and humor. I tell her my dad was a wonderful person with the terrible disease of achololism. We talk about what a God send my Aunt Linda was and still is to step in and raise not only my younger brother but to always be there for me. How we would never be able to repay her. This of course brings us to my brother. I tell Oprah how proud I am of Michael. How he's worked so hard for everything in his life. How he's been through so much yet never complains or plays the sympathy card. I tell her how excited I am that he has recently been elected to the Frankfort City Commission (don't forget this interview is taking place in February, a mere 2 months after the November elections). She shows a picture of Michael and I on election night, me in my orange and blue Michael Turner for City Commission shirt and him in an ugly v neck maroon sweater. I'm not sure why he's wearing that sweater. And speaking of elections I say how great it feels that Kentucky has replaced an out of date right winger Jim Bunning with a young, smart and might I add liberal Jack Conway.
On to my life she says, and I reply that I am just about the luckiest person I know. I have wonderful friends, an amazing family and good health. I wake up everyday feeling blessed beyond measure. We talk about how grateful I am for my husband, Joe. That yes he does 100 things a week that annoys me just as I am sure I do 101 things that annoy him. All in all, I say, He's a generous man, a great father, and no matter what I fix for dinner he always tells me, "it was good honey, thank you". I'm eating the same food so I know it's not always good, hell it's not even usually good, but I appreciate that he says it and it's the little things like that that I'm thankful for.
She asks me about the people who have shaped my life. Wow, I say, there are so many people where would I start. All of my friends parents always treated my like their own. I tell her one of the reasons I care so much for the Kings Center is because Randy and Pat Bacon were so good to me growing up. They fed me most every night of the week and I'm pretty sure I slept at their house much more often than my own in high school.
I tell her about Carolyn, and how much her house still feels like home to me.
I get a little choked up when I tell her about Jim and Diana and how I strive every day to be as wonderful a parent as they are and as good a person as they are. They provided a stable and nurturing home when I needed it the most, and I will cherish them for the rest of my life. They are amazing people.
We discuss my church family and my faith in God. My God is a God of love and forgiveness not a God of hell and damnation. I tell her I wish more people were that way.
We bond over golden retrievers. ( I know she has them because they were on the cover of her magazine one month, I'm a subscriber). My dog Buffett, I say, is so dumb but he's a sweetheart and I wouldn't trade him for anything. Even though you could stuff a mattress with the amount of dog hair that floats around my house.
he tells me she heard that I recently turned down an offer to present a Humanitarian Award at this year's Academy Awards. (Seriously folks, I was really tired but I just could not go to sleep and my mind was really racing. It's too bad there isn't a switch you can turn to shut off part of your brain, you know the part not needed to keep me alive). Anyway, I tell her that is correct, I turned it down because my son Alec has a basketball game that night that I don't want to miss but also for another reason. I don;t want to fly across the country to present an award in front of a bunch of overpaid, spoiled Hollywood stars who get all dressed up to go out and tell each other other how wonderful they are. Give me a break.
On a side note, there have been other nights when I've not been able to fall asleep where I practice my acceptance speech for winning an Oscar for a breakout performance in a blockbuster movie. It goes a little something like this:
I think George Wolfe is an awesome director and I'm humbled that he took a chance and casted a no name like me for this film. I'll never be able to thank him enough. However, the real people who should be getting awards are all the real people out there. The single moms working 2 and 3 jobs to keep food on the table and pay rent, the men and women in our military who risk their lives day in and out for the betterment of other people. Some see and experience things we can't even imagine in our worst nightmares, they come home to strained relationships and lousy vet care. What about the people living in third world countries who walk for three miles just to get a bucket of mostly dirty water. Where are their awards? I figure by this time the music is sounding and the screen is saying wrap it up so they can go to commercial. I walk off the stage and leave a stunned audience behind. I wouldn't even go to the damn awards ceremony but it was in my contract so I had to.
Back to last night's night daydream - I tell Oprah, I think Hollywood is spoiled and awards season nauseates me. My friend Nora is a single mom of 3 boys. She works her butt off all day, come homes to feed, clean, and educate her kids, runs all three boys to various sports practices and games during every season there is, football, basketball, baseball. All this times 3. She does without complaining because she is an awesome mom. Where's her award? Where's her $1. 2 million borrowed jewelry from Harry Winston, her Channel dress, and Jimmy Choo shoes? Fucking Hillary Swank has them because she acted like a boxer in a movie. Plus she got millions of dollars to do that job. What sense does this make?
After the interview Oprah agrees and buys Nora a brand new car, a Honda Pilot. It's not $1.2 million worth of diamonds and platinum but it's a start.
I admit to Oprah that I am a hypocrite though, because I would gladly accept an invitation to hand out an award at the Tony's or the Espy's. This leads into how much I love sports. We talk awhile about this.
Before the interview is over she asks me if there is anyone I'd like to trade places with for a day.
Of course, I say, Minka Kelly. That girl (only I don't say girl but I've cussed enough in this interview already) anyway, that girl gets paid to kiss and make out with Taylor Kitch on tv and is marrying Derek Jeter in real life. Hell, where do I sign up?!
Later I think Derek Jeter will see the interview and send me a big bouquet of flowers, an autographed jersey, and a note the reads, "if we had only met sooner".
Come on, this was my night daydream and I just gave away $16.4 million can't a girl have a little fun while trying to fall asleep?
So, this is when I decided that I wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon and perhaps I should just get up. I stumbled downstairs to the family room and started writing, hoping to not wake my husband. Unfortunately I did wake him, I guess that's one of the 101 things I'll do this week to annoy him.
You tell me, should I immediately make an appointment with the best doctor of physcology I can find or should I just wait until February and buy my first lottery ticket ever?