That morning cuando Canutito got up, estaba todo frío. He shivered as he tried to get dressed next to el fogón and warm up himself allí. Just then, grampo came into la cocina with an armload of leña and, as he deposited la abrazada of wood into the box next to el fogón, he said, "Ya dio el primer grito San Jerónimo."

"What do you mean by 'Saint Jerome already gave his first cry', grampo?" Canutito asked as he pulled his camisa over la cabeza.

"That means m'hijo," Grampo Caralampio replied, "que the first dusting of nieve has covered the tops de las sierras."

"Oh, I get it," the little boy added. "En la escuela the teacher taught us que la primera vez que it snows es porque Jack Frost came to breathe en las ventanas."

"I don't know nada del Jack Frost m'hijo," grampo said. "I only know about San Jerónimo y que I don't put much stock en gringo superstitions."

Just then Grama Cuca entró en la cocina looking at herself en el espejo that was hanging over the wash basin.

"Ay, Dios mío," she exclaimed looking at her reflection, "Este tiempo frío is not good para mi cara. Just look at todas estas arrugas on my face." She tried to smooth away the wrinkles.

Grampo looked up from where he was cerca del fogón and asked her, "¿Por qué don't you just put on some of that, -cómo se llama-, 'Oil of Old Age' en tu cara?"

Canutito started laughing and replied, "No, grampo, no es 'Oil of Old Age', ¡es 'Oil of Olay'!"

"Oh eso is just un fancy name por la misma cosa," grampo replied. "Y tu grama puts all of these porquerías on her face porque she saw somewhere que all of this junk would make her look toda young again. In fact I remember una vez cuando she would wash dishes con mucha anticipación porque en el television they would advertise que if you washed los trastes con un cierto dishwashing liquid, your hands would get all bonitas. Pero just look at her manos; the commericial left her toda fool-eada."

Canutito glanced over to the wash basin where Grama Cuca was aplicando un poco de lotion a la frente. Pero try as she might, her forehead just wouldn't get smooth. She tried to smooth away las arrugas by putting some egg whites en ellas pero not even el blanco del huevo helped her out any. Then she tried to poner a light dusting de baking powder over los egg whites. All that did was to make her look como un payaso.

Canutito studied Grama Cuca's face todo carefully. Cuando he saw el polvo on her face, he turned to Grampo Caralampio and whispered, "Parece que San Jerónimo gave a big ole grito right on top of Grama Cuca's face and now she looks como un clown." They both snickered in one of the corners de la cocina.

"Eso no es nada," grampo countered. "If she goes out into the sunshine posiblemente que el egg white y la baking powder will bake en el sol como un soufflé right en la mera cara." They both laughed softly again.

In the meantime Grama Cuca was still trying to figure out un modo de make herself look younger whenever she went out en público. She thought que posiblemente she could usar fishnet stockings instead of esos support hose que siempre usaba. She even tried to give her white hair un rinse azul de hair color. Pero -pobrecita- it just made her look como un Cucuy instead of making her más glamorous. And even applying dark lipistiqui only made her look toda Goth, and in truth, un poco muerta.

Grampo Caralampio and Canutito just raised their eyebrows at each other and nodded toward Grama Cuca.

"Yes, I believe que San Jerónimo gave his first cry this morning," Grampo Caralampio said. "Y I believe que ese cry was 'HELP!' when he saw your grama."

Canutito just nodded in agreement...

¿Le gustaría compartir sus propias anécdotas o comentar con Torres sobre esta columna? Envíele un correo electrónico a lartor@unm.edu