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NEWS: We are moving to Blogger

13 Jan
As much as I have loved the utilities that WordPress provides, I think it’s time I moved over to Blogger.  WordPress has an easier interface and I love its fabulous statistics and link widgets, but let’s face it folks, the theming here is limited.  Also, nothing beats bloggers Googableness.  So, goodbye WordPress.  The Mangos are moving to


15 Nov

Source: PHOTO Junky

Been stuck with the flu all week.  Still sick.  Be back soon when I get enough energy to finish my chandelier!

The Racoon Saga – Part 2

25 Oct

I found a dead cat on the border of the yard.  Well, Molly found a dead cat.  I suspect it was the raccoon.  The cat probably wasn’t as submissive as I was and raccoon took his “getting people in line” tactic too far with the cat.

I was fearing for Molly’s safety and health so I wanted to get the poor cat removed for burial—by someone else.  Off I went to Google “Miami Dade Dead Animal” only to find this cute little paragraph:

Miami-Dade Animal Services (ASD) does not pick up dead animals on private property or associated private lakes.  If the dead animal is on private property, please contact a private pickup service for its removal…

Residents who wish to file a complaint about a dead animal on another person’s private property should be referred to DERM… DERM will visit the property… to place a notice of Sanitary Nuisance.  Please note: DERM does not remove the dead animal. DERM will contact, and if necessary, cite the owner until the dead animal is removed by the owner.

Isn’t that just great?  During the next few days this was the talk between Mr. Mango, and my parents, who I am sure shared the story with all my tias and tios.  The consensus after a few days was that my dad and my step-abuelo would dispose of it somehow.  I really didn’t want to know the how.  I learned not to ask the details from the older Cubans early on in life when I asked what kind of meat I was eating one day when my dad had made venison.  He was all too keen to show me the remainder of the deer (head included) that he and a friend had picked up from some farm near Okeechobee.

Anyways, a few days later, they came for the cat and he was gone.  Maybe the raccoon took him.  Or, maybe the neighbors that border that side of the house aren’t Cuban and thus don’t take days to discuss the removal of a dead cat.

By Stepehn Oachs

Why Mango?/The Beginning of the Raccoon Chronicles

20 Oct

Why, besides the obvious fact that I love mangoes and all other Cuban fruits, the Mango Archives?  Many reasons, but here is the one that started it all:

There is a mango tree in my yard.  It’s a must in a Cuban household.  Otherwise, your tias and tios won’t be able to come by and see your mangoes—I mean you.  And your dad wouldn’t be able to brag to all his coworkers and extended family that his daughter bought a house—with a mango tree.  It’s pretty common down here to have a mango tree, unless you live in the burbs (i.e., Kendall, Doral, etc.) with their developed houses and prepackaged tiny yards.  When the house was being shown to us for the first time, it was the mango tree in full bloom that caught my eye, not because I was swooning over the house and the yard, although I was, but because all those mangoes were going to waste since no one lived in the house.  Read: Hmmmmm, I wonder if anyone will mind if I come by and borrow them?  But, my readers, the story does not end here.  Once we bought the Mango House and moved in I keenly stalked my mango tree and its coveted mangoes out my bedroom window until a little problem arose. 

FACT: I love mangoes; I always have and always will. 

PROBLEM: Raccoon also likes mangoes.  Probably always has and always will.

PROBLEM: I am too nice and too much of an animal/nature lover to call animal control on him. 

Got it yet?  Yes, the raccoon ate my mangoes.  He and I first met one dark night when Molly was but a wee tiny puppy.  I saw something lurking around in the shadows and low and behold there he was.  So, I bravely scared him away while my lion-dog howled at him.  In reality, I quietly and slowly picked up Molly (no sudden movements or he will notice the puppy and eat him!) and bolted for the door while he stared me down.  That’s when I knew I was being intimidated.  Pocahontas’s raccoon was nice, but not this guy.  It was like he was telling me: “This is my neighborhood and don’t you forget it, punk.”  Then, on one happy morning I noticed all of my ten mangoes had been eaten.  You, like my mom, might think that it was a bird, but you would be wrong.  The evidence lay on the floor on one side of the yard, mango peels.  On the other side of the yard was a nice little stack of mango seeds.  Can you believe the little jerk piled up all the seeds on one side of the yard and peels on another?  Maybe the raccoons up in Ocala told him I needed to be put in line, but, that’s a story for another day.  Now, normal people might have cleaned the mess up, but I was too upset to even look at my bare mango tree for the next few weeks. 

Fast forward a few months and guess what the little pile of mango seeds spit out:

 That’s right, a baby mango tree.  My husband must think I’m crazy.  I literally put a little rock fortress around it so the lawn guy wouldn’t take it apart and ran/dragged Molly back inside from her potty time to tell Mr. Mango of my find. 

Mr. Mango (not-so-amused): “How do you know it’s a mango tree?”

Mrs. Mango: “I’m Cuban.  We are born with the ability to know what the leaf of a mango looks like.  It’s a superhuman power.”

Ok, I added that last sentence after the fact, but it was needed as it further clarifies the point that I am a superhuman mango lover.  Okay, maybe just a mango lover.  The moral of the story, kids, is be nice to raccoons and they will produce mango trees.

Hello world!

18 Oct
Mr. and Mrs. Mango

This Is Us

Hi! That’s me, Mrs. Mango, on the left and that’s Mr. Mango on the right (actually that was us a few pounds lighter and when we were dating; I will change it soon to something that actually resembles the people behind this here blogerony). I’m a purebread Cuban and Mr. Mango is a purebread American. Behind us above is one of Mr. Mangos’s favorite things, the Miami Heat. We live about 10 miles inland from South Point, South Beach–which means we live right smack in the city of Miami (about 12 from the American Airlines Arena–or, as we call it, the Heat stadium). We get tons o’ traffic all the time, but we’re not complaining. We love our city and the nearby water (I get to see this from work everyday!).

Window View

Incase you haven’t noticed, we say things like blogerony and booboos. We are both in our 20’s and have been married for over three years. We lived in an apartment for a while and eventually met this little beauty we get to call our own little Mango House:

Our Castle

I knew it was meant to be ours when I saw a full blown mango tree in the back.  Then we met this piece of gorgeousness:


This here blog is an archive of the adventures in home decor, gardening, and all the other “projects” that fill the lives of a Cuban, an American, a Mutt, a not-so-seaside-cottage and a mango tree. I hope this will keep me on track and document all the crazy ideas I tend to start.