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Saturday On My Mind.


Childlike faith focuses on our Heavenly Father – not on our fears. 
Viva! Pit Señor, Santo Niño!

Wrote this on my wall today at Facebook.  The Sto. Nino  fiesta is a feast  celebrated in the Philippines every third Sunday of January.

As I’ve said in my previous post,  yesterday was a family day for us. We went to Tondo  to celebrate fiesta with them early.  It was a day full of laughter and sharing. Nate surely knows how to entertain.  He brought out some of his toys. Josef and I enjoyed playing with him and his go-kart and his set of beyblades.  It really feels good to act and play with a child once again.   Sometimes, we need these light moments, allowing ourselves to be young once more, enjoying the same activities of a little boy and  laughing  our hearts out in enjoyment.   We only see each other once a month so every time we do, we make use of the time just being happy.

Nissa prepared  pork sinigang sa bayabas. (soup made with pork and flavored with fresh guavas). Yes, we also use fresh guavas  for our  sinigang.  Mixed with gabi (taro root)  and water spinach, it was a yummy dish. Her mother-in-law cooked embutido and  prepared fruit salad and leche flan  for dessert. We brought along bibingka (rice cake).

It is really such a joy to spend another Saturday with the family.

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Decor And Such


We had a great time spending the day with Obet’s family (his parents),  with Nissa and Nate of course. Nate was so happy seeing us this morning.

Tomorrow  is the Feast Day of Sto. Nino, the patron saint of Tondo  but we went there early to celebrate with the family. True enough, when we reached the place, one side of the road going to their house was closed. We had a hard time navigating the place. We were not familiar with those streets before their house so we used the GPS in going there.  So hard to find a parking space even in front of their house.

As always I admired their old decor,  some figurines from long ago  still kept intact by Obet’s mom.  I found two more aside from those I took pictures of two or three years ago. I think the ceramic materials were made of porcelain. They were  quite heavy.

Cute, aren’t they?

 

Grandpa and grandma

 

I love these photos, simple depictions of friendship maybe and some precious moments with the old folks.

We took lots of photos by the way but they are all in Nissa’s camera.  Arrived home after more than two hours of traffic on the road.

RIP Peter Mayle


I can’t really believe he is gone  Peter Mayle, an author I discovered early  last year. He  was one of those authors that you would likely read again after reading one of his books.  I did.

I first read A Year In Provence, then the sequel Toujours  Provence  followed. Got this photo from his page at Facebook.

I wrote this very short review  (at Goodreads) when I finished reading A Year In Provence.  It is  a warm-hearted account of what Provencal life was like. I  actually rated it five-stars.

“Then you wish you had that glass of wine to go while reading this book. I am reminded of another book about country life in Italy with the book Under The Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes. People say that Provence is France’s Tuscany while Tuscany is Italy’s Provence.” 

Rest in peace.

The Journey


I think I need this for now…..

The Journey
 
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.
   – Mary Oliver
Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets. I have two of her books. From time to time I visit her site to be updated.

Yes, It’s Edible


Not so long ago, we discovered an edible fern during our many visits to the wet market. In fact, I blogged about it before here. There are so many ways to prepare such. Blanching is one common way to prepare it or you can cook the young leaves in coconut cream.

Last Saturday, we chanced upon fresh leaves in the market.  I  made it into a  veggie salad by adding julienned  white onions, ginger, tomatoes and  ground pork. I blanched it first with hot water then added the ingredients together with the ground pork later. It tasted so good.

Fiddlehead fern

It is locally known as pako. It is not grown as vegetable but grows in the wild. Not all ferns are edible though so one should be familiar  with it.  It is a perfect side dish for grilled fish or pork.

 

 

 

This So Called Life


People change

Life alters, sometimes for better or for worse

We reach a fork  in the road that says

Go this way or that,

It matters not.

What counts is,

You are strong to face the battle,

No matter how difficult the situation is.

Fear not,  for He will always point the right way.

I Miss You Still


10401954_924312577592771_2347683313099135030_nIf he were alive today, he could have been 96. He left us ten years ago. Until now, there is still that void that I feel with his passing. Sometimes, I could still  imagine him reading the daily news from cover to cover. It was always his pastime  so when he was alive, I made it a point to have a daily supply of the newspaper in our place.

I miss those days when he would recall how he struggled  in early life so he could find a nice job to support the family. My three siblings and I all  went to his favorite university where he worked for more than thirty years.  I miss those afternoon when we would take coffee and light snack and he would recall the earlier days of his life, the hardship of being a working student, those times he was away from his parents and siblings  while he worked in the city. I don’t remember his mom, my grandmother.  She died giving birth to their youngest. What I only knew  according to my grandfather was that I looked like her.

We could talk about anything under the sun. We could talk about  family members who went away to find good jobs. His two sisters and a brother (through a second marriage of my grandfather) work abroad. Two are in  Spain with their families and one resides in Japan. I am almost as old as my youngest aunt.

I miss those days when I was in high school and it was only the three of us  (my oldest brother, dad and I). My mom stayed in the province with my two younger brothers until  our youngest transferred to Manila to study when he was in grade school.  The days when he would teach me how to cook…..priceless.   He would usually drop by the wet market  after office work and he would teach me how to prepare a simple dinner.  I was not just a bystander when he was in the kitchen because he would  just instruct me what to do and watch me cook.

I miss those days when we would spend lunch together when I was in college  with one of his co-workers.  Every day, he would buy food at the UST resto  before  my class ends at 12 pm then we would share lunch.

When he got sick with ESRD and had to undergo dialysis treatment, my older brother and I accompanied him to the hospital twice a week.  The days he was bedridden after each session of dialysis, the enormous medications he had to take to stay stronger.  the graceless time he had to wear a catheter for many months, I still remember them all. My dad was a fighter. It was so painful though to watch his deteriorating health. For each session of dialysis he lost weight.

We lost him one December night ten years ago.  He may be gone from us but he still lives in my heart and the memories linger.

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” 

― Elisabeth Kubler Ross Continue Reading »