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Tuesday, November 06, 2018

This year my All Souls Procession altar had special significance. It featured my mother and her ancestors. I hosted my annual party, starting things a few days before, putting together my altar and decorating the house. I went out to my Meyer lemon tree and picked a few. My tree has lots of lemons on it this year.

Meyer lemon.

Robert and I made lemon sugar cookies and gingerbread cookies. We had a fun time doing so.

Robert cutting lemon sugar cookies.

 I taught Robert some decorating tips.  He did a great job.

Cookies.

I used the Meyer lemon juice for the frosting, it came out nice.

Close up of cookies.

I made a tres leche cake.

Tres leche.

And a chocolate mayonnaise cemetery cake.

Cemetery cake. Tombstones made from chocolate bars.

I also made spanikopita, hummus, three bean salad, and mango salsa. I ran around like a maniac.

Spanikopita.

Finally it was time to start. Robert found a real mariachi sombrero on 4th Avenue. I lent him my vest and matching bow tie that I am too fat to wear.

Robert at the altar.

Richard came and took photos of people.

Robert (photo by Panchesco).

I had made all of the paper flowers for my altar. Matt brought me bouquets of roses and I bought irises, mums, carnations, and other flowers to hand out along the procession route.

Homer and Matt at the altar.

My friend Emily arrived from DC. She worked with me back in 1996. I had made her a floral crown the night before and she loved it.

Emily (photo by Panchesco).

I confess, I was so tired. I probably did eight or nine sugar skull makeups on people. I did an okay job, I really need to take a class.

Moi (photo by Panchesco).

Matt used glitter around his eyes.

Matt (photo by Panchesco).

At 5:30 we walked down to the Procession and ended up along Bonita Avenue.

Robert, Trav, and Ray.

This year people had the choice of walking down Bonita or down the river walk. Many people did the latter, which I thought spoiled the Procession, since you could not see them.

The urn.

I had a melt-down moment while talking about my mother. Sometimes I see something and think, "Oh, Mother would like that," and then remember she has died. I showed someone the little heart-shaped rock that she liked and burst into tears. It is still a hard thing for me.

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