Friends,

Now the Delgados are Four. Yesterday (that is, the day before the Pittsburgh Steelers took the AFC Championship away from those lousy Denver Broncos, for the first time in history becoming the sixth seed to go to the Super Bowl), Alli and I bought a new dog. He is very cute. He has dark black eyes, and a golden coat (the colors of the AFC Champions, the Pittsburgh Steelers). There is only one problem--we haven't agreed on a name. Last night, his name was Kenny; then for about five minutes, it was Bruce. This morning his name was Sean. Two hours ago it was Walter. A few minutes ago we were battling between Fernando and Todd. And now, my favorites are Paco, Diego, Hector, and Onofre. All this time, though, I've secretly been rooting for the underdog name: Mom. But, we'll probably end up naming him Ben Roethlisberger, since he's carried the Pittsburgh Steelers, this year's AFC Championship team, to the Super Bowl.

Ray Kevin Delgado, our first and oldest dog, hasn't taken very well to being an older brother yet. He has so far eaten Kenny Sean Todd Mom Fernando's puppy food, and stolen his toys, and ignored the poor little newcomer's advancements at friendship; and all of a sudden I feel like I have an insight into dog psychology. I never imagined dogs having ulterior motives or deep-seeded insecurities--just hunger and sex drives. But Ray is really changed. He left his journal open this morning, and I snuck a peek. He's calling the new dog names like Abel, and Jacob. He wrote some poetry in there. It went like this: "I am Cain, he is Abel./That little pooch is in big big trouble." (Ray's not very good at rhyming, but he's very insightful--for a dog.) However, we hope that, in time, the two will grow close. In fact, this new-dog purchase was partly motivated by the fact that Ray gets so lonely when Alli and I leave this house, to go to work or class or out with friends, and we thought that having a friend would brighten his spirits. (Could we possibly personify these animals any more?) Little Diego Bruce Onofre Hector likes Ray a lot, but so far Ray has been sulking. It's all expected though, I suppose, I mean, even though as parents we should be saying that we love them both the same amount, that we love them differently but not unevenly--if we're going to be honest, we've been calling Ray "The Ugly One," and I think that even though he doesn't understand our words, he understands our body language. We are also convinced that that's how real parents talk about their real kids--so now we also hate our parents and blame them for everything.

So, if you didn't hear, the Pittsburgh Steelers won today's game, making them this year's AFC Champions. In Pittsburgh, there is screaming and dancing all through the streets. Everybody is hugging everybody else. It's one big Black & Gold celebration; there are smiles and laughter in all places. Pretty much, tonight, it's like the entire city has lost its virginity.

Now I make a confession: in case you haven't noticed, I have somehow been dragged into this whole Steelers nonsense. It's almost impossible to avoid, really. I tried, but I was not strong enough. YOU try living in a city where even the newscasters wear black & gold, where last week Jerome "The Bus" Bettis's now-famous fumble resulted in a man going into cardiac arrest (that is a true story, by the way), where the dress codes for FANCY nightclubs are "NO TENNIS SHOES OR STREET CLOTHES. STEELERS' JERSEYS OKAY" (also a true story). Like Turkish Delight, it's impossible to resist. Last week, and again today, I actually set aside time to watch--as they call it--"The Game." With the exception of some of the Super Bowls (games I set aside time to watch, really, because of the snacks), I have never done this. I hate sports. I hate them. In high school, I took ballroom dancing lessons (voluntarily)--I was not a jock. Now, though, something inside of me has been touched, and I believe--oh yes, I believe--in the Steel Curtain. (There are moments when I see what I've become, and I can only ask myself, "What happened?")

Forgive me, Lord. I know not what I do.

Alli and I send all our love. We miss you very much.

Carlos

Friends,

We are doing well, adjusting back to Pittsburgh. For the most part, we are fully adjusted. We had a conversation tonight with a wonderful man named Nimo, a friend we have made recently. He owns two greyhounds, whom he loves very much. He is a social worker who gets immigrants settled into America. He has a very big heart. He goes to our church, and he is very nice. In our conversation, he mentioned that he used to live in California, and that compared to Pittsburgh, the weather in California is tedious and boring. He said that no one really appreciates a sunny day in California, because they get them all the time. Then, as if to let us in on a secret, he leaned forward to us, and he said, "But, yesterday, do you remember yesterday?--now that was a glorious day. The sun was absolutely glorious." Coming out of his mouth, that word 'glorious' means something. It is something special. He is from Sri Lanka, you understand, and his accent makes the word roll up to his lips and then trip out of his mouth like some kind of spontaneous laughter. It was beautiful the way he said it. Glorious. Glorious. Yesterday was glorious. Sun and cold air and, yes, Nimo, yes it was--it was just like you said it was--it was glorious.

But then I got to thinking. I was thinking, "But today in Pittsburgh it snowed. This morning when I went to get the paper, my snot froze inside my nose. It snowed today, and it was cloudy, and the sky was gray and yucky, and when you go outside the wind hits your face like you're a - ed stepchild, and in California it doesn't snow. In Los Angeles it is sunny and perfect. In Los Angeles things are sunny, and, pardon me, Nimo but you are full of poop. I have to shovel my g.d. driveway, and, and, and g.d.,Nimo, g.d.--for six months a year I have to wear socks to bed! I appreciate sun, yes, Nimo, of course I do! And when it comes, it is glorious. Sure. But go without food for a week, Nimo, just go without food and you'll appreciate that turkey sandwich, you bet you will; but heck if I'm gonna starve myslef every g.d. day, just to appreciate it a little more. How stupid. You stupid stupid man, Nimo."

That Nimo is some idiot. What a jerk.

Anyway, we're having a great time out here, and we send you all out there in California both our love and--the middle finger. But also our love, don't forget the love. We miss you and love you (and are very jealous of you).

Love,
Carlos