Why India Bruta? My Father gave me the nick name, it’s a Mexican thing, we all had one. It was the 50s, racist media programming flooded impressionable minds with horrific images of brutal savages scalping "innocent" immigrants. It fit. It stayed. Bottom line, I was intense, and there in lay my challenge.

The love of my life once told me my smile could light up a stadium. Others, on the other hand, have said that if looks could kill, they’d be dead. I have journeyed.

Again, I don't profess to have answers, nor am I presenting a how-to manual. I simply put forth the question and the challenge.

Writing this blog has forced me to become aware of my hypocrisy. If I can't manage my temper, how can I expect to harness the power of my hot flashes? Are they really that different? Lately, whenever I get "stupid", I find myself much more motivated to talk myself down from defcon 3 . I'm happy to report that I remain on path!