“Unlock Hidden Emotions: How Mars Retrograde in Cancer Revives Ancient Instincts of Care and Compassion!”
Added on January 21, 2025 inASTROLOGY CARDS
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During a bizarre and deeply introspective Mars retrograde in Cancer, I’ve found myself unearthing family photos and having a major nostalgia trip—home alone for the first time since my daughter was born, no less! It’s a time for reflection, and what keeps popping up in my mind? Rosita! Now, let me paint a picture for you: Rosita wasn’t just any woman; she was the culinary queen of an unmarked space that was practically a hidden gem. Her home-turned-restaurant exuded warmth and love like none other. Think of the place as a mash-up of a cozy family gathering and the scene of a boisterous fiesta, complete with Christmas lights and friendly faces.
Why does this matter? Well, because eating at Rosita’s was like embracing a whimsical adventure you hadn’t even known was about to unfold. The kind of place where you could walk in with a six-pack, if you were so inclined, and blend perfectly with the boisterous atmosphere. That’s where the real magic happened, cranking out the most divine cheese crisps and burritos, not to mention the camaraderie you’d share as you elbowed your way to the kitchen. Rosita became a symbol of the joy of community, of being perfectly imperfect, and, if I’m being honest, she was the DIY spirit I’ve come to recognize in myself.
In the whimsical spirit of reminiscing, let me take you back to the wonder of Rosita’s—a place that thrived on the love of food, family, and friendships, even if it has slipped a bit into the past since the 1980s. Ready to explore more? Check it out here: LEARN MORE.
Mars retrograde in Cancer has been freakishly active in my world. I’ve been digging up family pictures. Home alone, for the first time since my daughter was born, and various other sundries. But last night, I was kept awake thinking about, Rosita.
Rosita was a woman I didn’t know, even though I ate dinner in her “home”, many times, as a young adult. Her home was tied to my own mother, in that her home/restaurant was painter, Ted DeGrazia’s old studio. DeGrazia was a friend of my mother’s, who in fact, taught her to paint.
Going to, Rosita’s, was a Sagittarian thing, in that you wouldn’t know you could go to Rosita’s unless someone told you about it. That’s what happened to me. Someone said, “Let’s get a six pack and go to, Rosita’s, and eat!” Huh? But everyone seemed happy about it, so we stopped for a six pack of beer and drove out to DeGrazia’s studio, which I was well aware of.
We pulled up in front of the unmarked building. Everyone seemed to think, we were in fact, at Rosita’s. My boyfriend started telling me about, DeGrazia and I was just really confused. I’d held onto my mother’s skirt, while she talked to the artist, many times. How is this, Rosita’s?
We walked in and there were Christmas light strung up in the large entryway. There were also, many pictures of Mexican people, framed with paper plates; Rosita’s friends and family, no doubt. I was a server and a bartender at the time. I had never entered a restaurant with a six pack before; what the hell is this?
We’ve moved through this home, like we live there… weaving through the poorly laid out space, to arrive in a giant kitchen, with one gal, cooking. The people with me, greeted Rosita, and walked over to her refrigerator to put the beer away? Um.. who does that, right? Turns out, everyone does that. The refrigerator was full of beer and wine!
My boyfriend handed each of us a beer and put the other two in the fridge. We’re now standing in the kitchen, beer in hand; we have to tell, Rosita, what we want.
There was a limited menu. Beef and/or bean burritos, smothered red or green. Tacos. And the star of this jewel, which was her famous cheese crisps!
Everyone has had a cheese crisp, but not like this. She took a giant tortilla, size of an extra large pizza, and fried it. Like deep fried it, to it was, crisped with bubbles. She then put cheese on it, and finely chopped green pepper and tomato. The cheese started melting, immediately, so it only had to be broiled, a minute or so. I’m getting ahead of myself.
We’re standing there in the kitchen, cold beer in hand, with people coming in and out to access the fridge or to order or to pick up their food. See, there were no employees. Just, Rosita!
So we order our food, cheese crisp and four burritos; simply by yelling at her, what we want, as the kitchen is loud and full of people. She nods and we file out and find somewhere to sit.
The place is busy, but people are really friendly. Like you can sit at another person’s table, no problem. The dining area was also decorated with many Christmas lights and paper plate framed smiling people. It was quaint and cozy. Surreal, even. The light was dim.
As to how you get your food, you wait a little bit and then go see if it’s ready. You’re on your own with this, but people go back to get another beer or their wine or their soda, so it works fine. I mean, no one in the place is there without being initiated. You’re either okay with this or you’re not.
The food was of course, incredible. It was also stupid, cheap! Like one dollar for burrito and three dollars for a cheese crisp? Four people eating for ten dollars, in a great atmosphere.
There was no bussing of tables. The customers did this; treating it as if they were eating in a friend’s house. You help clean up? “Mi casa, su casa”, for real. There was a sink, and plenty of towels to wipe tables as needed.
On the way out, there was a little girl, maybe, eleven years odd, sitting at a table with a box of cash. You told her what you owed and gave it to her, generally adding a tip, though no one could tell if you did or didn’t.
I’ll tell you something about, Rosita’s. I bet anyone who ever ate there, looks back at the experience, wishing they could do it again! Because she was one of a kind. Everyone yelling at her, to be heard over the crowd. Telling her how much they love her food, while she pretends to recognize them. It was hilarious from my perspective.
The point of all this; I realized last night, I have become, Rosita! She did it the way she damned well pleased, attracting people who were okay with her and repulsing others, I guess. This is what we all do, I suppose. But this is the Rosita’s of the astrology world. The work being full of love and heart.
Here’s another person’s recollection of, Rosita’s: “Oh yeah, Rosita’s on Prince, I went there a lot with my siblings. She had great food, very homemade quality and love, really nice lady, refreshing Jamaica tea with lemonade.”
And this: “Yes it was an amazing place to play at when my grandmother Rosita Fimbres had her restaurant there…”
See? This place has been gone since the 1980’s, but we all remember it. That’s what I hope will happen with this blog, when I’m gone.
I make Rosita-style cheese crisps sometimes, for guests. People love them and invariably comment, they’ve never had a cheese crisp of this type.
“Rosita’s,” I say. “That’s Tucson food.” I wish I had noted what vessel she was using to fry the giant tortillas.
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