For Phoenix-based artist Kathy Cano-Murillo, a memorable girls trip came with an unexpected guest.
KATHY CANO-MURILLO: Sitting in a cozy SUV, I knew this Phoenix to Los Angeles road trip would be worthy of a double-page art journal spread.
Our Latina art collective, the Phoenix Fridas, was invited to participate at ConchaCon — a festival dedicated to the beloved hot pink Mexican pastry. An entire day consisting of a fashion show, art vendors, food demos and more.
Who cares if it was Mercury in Retrograde? We chose to ignore the cosmic warning.
Before I loaded my luggage in the hatchback, I recited a power prayer for safety, epic memories, and to embody a dash of my car mates’ youthful, infectious energy!
Turns out, the energy was a bit too infectious.
At 54, I was the eldest of our traveling crew, and I embraced being the wise one to lead us, even if my slow driving demoted me to passenger princess. In between spilled iced coffees and tajin-covered mango slices, our safe space delivered the best conversations. Luisa warned me about the boy my daughter crushed on. Sabrina took the wheel while divulging the antics of her three little boys.
Anna said she wished to become a mother one day.
Thania admitted she didn’t, while moaning in pain about her period arriving.
Coasting on the last leg of my reproductive highway, but I could still relate. So much, I even felt a phantom cramp in my abdomen!
“I’m such an empath,” I thought. Thank God I don’t have to deal with the monthlies anymore.
However, my internal lady parts had a different plan. Thania’s sacred center most certainly sent a biological glittery high-five to mine. All that female magical millennial energy jump-started my body clock.
“Woo-hoo! This party is not over!” I imagined my hormone factories shouting from my insides. “Come on, babes, encore! Encore! Let's go out in style, at ConchaCon with the Phoenix Fridas!”
By that evening, in our single hotel room, I lay curled up on the couch, groaning and cussing. Feeling tricked and betrayed by biology, my fingers angrily tapped into DoorDash on my phone as I ordered my former usual.
What was it again?
A box of Ultra Super-Duper Maximum Overnights with Wings and Super Glue? Oh — and a jumbo milk chocolate Symphony Bar with toffee. And a bottle of Pamprin. Do they even make that anymore? Better make it a double batch of everything.
The Fridas stayed up all night painting glittered concha art as I slept.
There are so many “my first period” stories. They usually involve a grade school bathroom or a family vacation. But where are the tales of a woman’s last cycle?
They are just as monumental and meaningful. My generative grand finale was among women I love dearly on a road trip celebrating creativity, friendship and Mexican pastries.
And that — more than worthy of an art journal spread.
-
At KJZZ's The Show, we love bringing you conversations about life in the Valley and beyond. Now we want to know what's happening in your head. -
Valley writer Audrey Treon didn’t have to travel far from home to realize how much she appreciated it. -
Sometimes it feels like a set of car keys can open an entire world. And while that didn't quite happen for metro Phoenix writer and storyteller Morgan Kubasko, one particularly memorable — and long — road trip came close. -
For Phoenix writer and graduate student Amanda Kehrberg, one particular drive across the country wasn't just a road trip. It was the beginning of a journey. -
We’ve all been there: long road trip, someone else is driving — and nature calls. Phoenix writer Barbara VanDenburgh remembers that well in our latest SOAPBOX essay on the theme road trip.
