The Convivial Gist

Culinary Exercise Feb 2016

2020-10-19T17:20:00.006-07:00

Asparagus Cherry Tomato Salad

Balsamic Roast Beef

Fruit Platter

Mais con Gulaman

Parmesan Fennel Gratin

Turkey Fruit Platter

White Bean Salad with Spinach

Train commuting - missing not much

2020-10-16T18:09:00.001-07:00

I had a love hate relationship with my commuting to work. You see, I do not drive. My husband worries so much about me being a menace to the motoring public and maximally living up to being an Asian stereotype driver. So I take the public transportation - the St. Louis Metro Link. I take the Blue Line, there were only 2 lines and I am in luck since that's the better riding experience. The city being a bit segregated, the red line I suppose passes the Red Lined communities of the county.

I do not know what to expect on a given day, it might be boring as any boring person that you know or will it be so full of drama that your favorite telenovela pales in comparison. Here are some worth mentioning:

1. The Orange Guy - He was carrying an orange, went to the center aisle, got every body's attention and started crushing the orange with his hand. He went on walking from back and forth with the juice of the mashed orange dripping all over the floor. That's the only time that the train smelled so good to me.

2. The Trash Can Banger - Passenger got off every station, bang the lid of the trashcan, get on the train again and do it all over again. Maybe he was fired from the Blue Man Group.

3. The Air Freshener Lady - The moment she sat down, she whipped up an air freshener and sprayed all around her. This one made me cough and I can't remember the scent because I was gagging.

4. The Moth/ Wet Dog Smell People - This usually happens during the cold season. Apparently the cold weather jackets/coats were either not washed of the last season's detritus or stored in a moth infused closet.

5. The TMI type - Passengers yakking on the phone so loud that I can practically write their own biography without any interview session.

6. The Sleepers - Their snores sounds like the horn on the tugboat in mighty Mississippi River that I thought I was in the Gateway Arch River boat cruise.

7. The Funky Ones - Prevalent during the warm season, people wearing their shirts for nth time without the benefit of washing that I needed a massive amount of Vicks vaporub slathered on my nose or get off the train when I am in the verge of fainting due to my constricted breathing.

8. The Rolling Store - Passenger selling items ranging from train tickets (discounted), socks , candies, cd's etc., it was tempting sometimes. It even gave rise to my entrepreneurial bent to sell fermented duck egg (balut) or taho or DVD.

9. The St Louis Dodgers - The fare jumpers. Its fun seeing them trying to transfer to a different car train but the cops knows their MO. My favorite was Grandma immediately got off the train when it stopped in the station trying to ride another train going to the opposite direction with the cop on her tail - talk about Senior Power.

10. The Observer - that's me. Making sure I got all the details of whatever shenanigans going on the train for our daily cooler office conversation piece.

(from STL Post dispatch)

No matter what road we travel, all road leads to home

2015-10-17T18:24:00.002-07:00

Travelling... leaving home for an exotic and unfamiliar locale surely evokes excitement.

When I was growing up in the sleepy barrio in the Southern Philippines, I am always wondering what lies beyond the mountains and the seas that enclosed my little world. But this notion was in between my preoccupation of trying to get ahead with the childhood game of tumbang preso http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tumbang_preso so that I won't end up being labeled as bagoong (salted paste made from shrimps and small fish).

Later on in life, I developed an insatiable itch for discovering what lies further the confines of my abode. I considered those travels as one most important chapter of my adult life. These are experiences and memories that like education, are always portable and it goes with you all the time. I was wondering why to some people, traveling

is such a daunting task, an interruption to their prosaic life. As if, they are about to leave their cocoon, that stepping outside their comfort zone is akin to doing a bungee jumping sans the cord or agreeing to marrying a man you met online 15 minutes ago.

What makes the idea of leaving to explore other places very exhilarating to me is the thought that I will be coming back home. That my home will always be there waiting, ready to welcome me unconditionally, no need for reasons for my return; compels me to seek, explore and learn from these foreign domain.

As Japanese poet Sensho (?) asserted , no matter what road we travel, all roads leads to home. And I will be coming home soon.

It's Alive and Kicking in Chesterfield Missouri

2015-10-17T18:14:00.000-07:00

Having lived the first 44 years of my life in a homogeneous society like the Philippines, racism was kind of a vague issue to me. But when I moved to United States and married an American , I was slowly introduced to this kind of order in America.

I became an honorary black woman. I said that because I embraced not only him but also his "people" but still maintain my Filipino values and culture . Color blind as I am in my relationship with my husband and his family, I am was also aware of the ugly presence of discrimination and racism that lurks from time to time being a mixed couple - a black man and an Asian woman. My husband told me he was used to it and he understands why I was perplexed by it in considering the society where I came from. We suffered the curious looks, the disappointed looks, why I married a black man look, why did he marry an Asian look ,why did you take away our man look , maybe she just needs a green card look, you name it we experienced it. And this were from white, black and even my from my own people As the years go by, we got used to it, that we do not care anymore. Life is to short to fuzz about skin color, sexual orientation, financial status etc.

But this afternoon, I never would imagined that I would actually hear a racist remark pointed at us. Those looks can be ignored and it can be interpreted in many different ways but when racist words are spoken, its on a different level.

We were famished after doing our shopping in a mall in Chesterfield . We were scouting the area for a place to spend a nice lunch since we seldom frequent this location. My husband saw Mimi's cafe along Chesterfield airport Road and he told me he always wanted to take me there since he dined there years ago.

I had the gut feeling from the time we entered the restaurant that this was not a welcoming place. Diners looked at us like we were from outer space. The waiter who was opening the door looked at us curiously and did not even greet us , he led us to our table near a couple probably in their late 60's. The couple ogled at us and they kept at looking at each other trying to communicate wordlessly . When we were seated the wife said to her husband " of all places " , the husband apparently did not hear it, so she repeated " of all places" , the husband replied, "yes I know" . Sarcastically implying that of all places why would a couple like us should be seated beside them or should be even be in this restaurant.

My husband asked me get up and he addressed the woman, " We are sorry that we are inconveniencing her" and we left the place.

I got upset and I told my husband I should have subjected the couple to a gut wrenching Filipino curses that not even a single celled organism cannot stomach for being such ignorant person. My husband told me that we should not stoop to their level. And I agree.

Our mixed couple shaming experience in Wyoming seems cute compared to our Chesterfield episode.
Next time I hear something like this, I am going to roll my eyes and give them my saccharine smile and softly say #$@^%^ +)*!! in Filipino.

Ode to Cecilia

2013-01-12T22:14:00.000-08:00

Rem, Adel, Cecil and Au circa 2004

Cecile at our high school reunion giving a speech on being a cancer survivor 2009

Finding out that Cecile, one of my best friends succumbed to cancer while perusing the news feeds on my Facebook account last Black Saturday, seems surreal to me. I am more of a visual person, hardly taking note of the written postings, more interested on photos and inane you tube cat videos. When I came across the condolences at her sister's page, I was reading but not really comprehending what those words meant. Realization hit me and I started mourning her death with copious tears.

We went to the same school in elementary and high school but only became very close when we attended a community college, hooked up with 2 other girls Au and Rem. I never imagined that it will be the start of fun friendship that anyone would wish they could have on their transition to adulthood.

We connived on lying about our age when we applied for a job as a Salesclerk, chose the same University to pursue our college degree and proudly declaring to everyone that we were working student. We had a brutal schedule, class from 7 to 11 in the morning, commute in an hour on a bus that even a lizard would suffocate during noon rush hour traffic to go to work for an 8 hour marathon of standing and hoping our supervisor will not catch us doing our class assignments.

We would stuff our selves with candies to ease the hunger, for lunch would be a 15 minute break at around 3 in the afternoon. Despite the time constraint, Cecile will always put on her makeup to perfection that even up to now I can not duplicate. But that schedule did not stop us for having fun that even a professional student with money and the time to boot would envy. Now I wonder where we got the energy to pursue these hustles but sure we did it, ahh the vagaries of youth.

These are some of the perky and crazy things that Cecile and I did all those 5 years while working and studying:

... watched 4 movies in one day in Quad Theater, after which our eyes were red as a vampire
....watched movie with boiled corn, green mango and bagoong (fermented shrimp paste) as a snacks, stinking the movie house, and movie goers shouting at us if we can be kind enough to share our malodorous food.
....she taught me how to read the traffic light so that I can cross Ayala and Makati Avenue safely when going to work. I thought they were just there for decoration.
.... going on a date with nice Taiwanese tourists on Nayong Pilipino with bad teeth from too much smoking (I guess)
.... taking a trip to Pansol, Laguna by a bus as slow as a pregnant slug that we reached the resort by noon, ate our packed lunch of longanisa and rice, swam for an hour or so then went back to the bus station for the trip back home
....have a beach party on a stormy and windy day in Cavite, ending up eating our food with sand on it
....enjoyed disco dancing in La Cueva (it was located in the now Greenbelt Park) after getting off work at 8 in the evening till the 3 in the morning , get up 7, attend class and do the same stunt the next day
....screaming at the top of our lungs when power goes out in our work and ask later on who are those crazy ladies that screams like banshees
.....devouring mega-serving of spaghetti cooked by my sister as if there were no tomorrow

Cecile you would be sadly missed but will never be forgotten..........

Fifty Three And Counting

2013-01-12T21:18:00.001-08:00

Fifty Three and Counting

Birthdays are always fun no matter what age and status in life you are in. I celebrated mine with an early chat with Gina, a mammography technologist, We had a discourse on the weird weather in St. Louis, the Hobbit movie which should be watched in 3D to fathom the slyness of Gollum and what I should do the rest of the day.

Yes, I had my annual date with my own version of Terminator , the GE Senograph Machine and Gina was my Arnold Schwarzenegger (before the infidelity scandal) . Having born with a small but very dense breast, more often my breasts would be scrunched by the unforgiving paddle more than twice for better image. I will dread the day when some Facebook people would start posting their mammography x-ray film on their timeline just to compensate for pain.

Now I have to wait for the result from the beast, oops Dr. Biest. Yes, I have a male gynecologist and his name is Dr. Biest. An acquaintance of mine questioned why I shifted from an Asian Indian female gynecologist to an American male gynecologist , especially in a very delicate matter concerning my private parts. I thought that a female physician would fully understand a woman's problem but in my case, I was wrong .

I am perfectly comfortable with the Biest, who can better figure out a woman but a man! And besides this practitioner had been in this business for 22 years, can you imagine how many vaginas he has examined and seen. Unless he has eidetic memory, he can probably associate the face of his patient when he sees her on a mall trying on 14- inch stiletto shoes with her vajayjay (ala Oprah) would look at that time.

Moving on with my birthday celebration, my husband took me to an Indian buffet at Mayuri, specializing in South-North Indian cuisine. My mouth was on fire during the whole time we were eating and the continuous audible discharge of intestinal gas (okay- it means fart) was still pestering me till late evening. Blame it on rogan josh, gajar halwa and kheer.

Photo from Examiner.com

Close Encounter of the Squirrel Kind

2011-07-29T20:48:00.000-07:00

Our cat Pinay was traumatized the last time she was out "unsupervised" on our deck. She slipped out of the kitchen door and was out for 2 hours; it was late at night and raining. Only when we were about to go to sleep when we realized she was not on her usual spot in our bed. Well, she learned her lesson well and would not even put a single paw on the transition strip of our kitchen storm door.

But the call of her predatory instinct finally made Pinay venture again on our deck. I guess she was just plain tired of watching the avian and rodent community having all the fun on our backyard that she wants some piece of the action.

The thing is, she had been confined and modified to be a domesticated animal for the last 5 years that she does not know that she is supposed to chase the sparrows and grackles and anything that moves on that deck. I think its the greatest indignity that a pet owner like me can inflict on Pinay.

Prior to this photo, when the gangs of squirrels saw her, they climbed on three corners top of the deck taunting my poor and miserable cat with her Bambi eyes as big as saucers, not blinking, probably telling herself, " What the heck I should do?"

Note the birds and other squirrels feeding, oblivious to the drama happening !

Hilod at Tabo

2011-07-29T20:11:00.000-07:00

Ako ay nagpasiya na ihahayag ko ang aking pagninilaynilay na ito sa aking katutubong wika. Maalala ng ilan kong mambabasa na aking nabanggit sa isa sa mga nauna kong sulatin na noong bagong dating ako dito sa bansang Amerika, sumapit ang punto na ako ay nagsawa sa pasasalita ng wikang Inglis. Upang maibsan ang aking pananabik sa bagay na ito, aking kinakausap ang aso ng aking kabiyak. Sumalangit nawa ang kayang asong kaluluwa at harinaway nasa langit na sya ng mga aso.

Isang katanungan ang umiikilkil sa aking mapagusisang kaisipan, - Paano mo masusukat ang kulungkutan ng isang Pilipino na naninirahan sa banyagang lupain? Sinasabi ng marami na tayo ay likas na madaling matutu sa gawi at asal ng ating inampong bayan, at ayon na rin sa mga karanasan ng mga Pilipino na matagal ng naninirahan dito, sa loob nga limang taon, nga mga baguhan ay narahuyo na sa buhay Amerika; ang pagnanasa niya sa kanyang inang bayan ay pagbugso bugso na lang at hindi kasing higpit ng dati.

Ating harapin na ang buhay sa kanluraning bayan ay mas maalwan at ang pagkakataon sa pag unlad ay kasukat lamang ng iyong talino at tapang ng loob. Ang pag aari ng kotse sa Pilipinas ay maituturing na pag angat sa estado sa buhay, ngunit dito ito ay pangangailangan; kadalasan ang mga Amerikanong Pinoy pag umuwi sa Pilipinas, sila ay larawan ng tagumpay, kaligayahan at kayamanan. Kaya?

Ang iba ay tahasang ipinagmamalaki at ipinamumukha sa kanilang kababayan na hindi na nila alam ang gawing Pilipino, takot sa lamok, pagtili sa butiking gumagapang sa dingding, langgam sa ilalim ng mesa, pag aglahi sa nakakabaliw na trapiko sa kalsada ng EDSA, pagdaing sa mala hurnong init ng panahon, pagkasuklam sa tanawin ng bundok ng basura at ang walang pakundangan na pag hahalintulad ng kanyang ampong bayan sa Pilipinas.

Maaring sila ay may katuwiran , subalit sa isang anggulo, pakaisipin mo na ikaw ay nasa bansang dahop, ano ang dapat mong asahan? Sa aking palagay, ang ating ibang kababayan na umaasal ng ganito, ang turing nila sa kanilang sarili , sila ay isa ng banyaga at hindi na Pilipino. Ang pananaw na ito ay nagbibigay sa kanila ng kapangyarihan na mamintas at aglahiin ang kayang bayang sinilangan. Tumpak kaya ang aking pagtataya na ang mga ito ay hindi na naghahangad o nalulumbay sa kanilang tunay na bayan kung sila ay nasa bansang kanluranin? Nahirati na talaga sila sa buhay banyaga?

Minsan naiisip ko din ang kaginhawaan sa pamumuhay dito sa Amerika, ang bahay kong ladrilyo ay mainit sa taglamig at malamig sa taginit, malinis ang daan, ang aking alagang pusa ay may sariling manggagamot, maraming librong mahihiram sa aklatan, ang alagad ng batas at bombero ay madaling abisuhan .....

Ngunit habang ako ay gumagamit ng tabo sa aking palikuran, gumagamit ng hilod sa aking bukong bukong at talampakan, at ang butas ng aking ilong ay naghahanap ng amoy ng dinaing na dilis, sa isang sulok ng aking katawan, maaring ito ay sa aking puso, lapay o apdo, ang aking pangungulila sa aking bayan ay naandoon pa din at ito ay napapawi lamang saaking pagdalaw sa aking bayang sinilangan.

Eclair for a Comatose Taste Buds

2011-04-15T20:35:00.000-07:00

Chocolate Eclair -
photo from Helfer's website

With the last extreme winter weather in St. Louis, my husband commented that pollens were probably frozen, that he was not suffering the symptoms of his nasty allergies on the onset of spring. He spoke too soon. His seasonal allergies came in with a vengeance that he temporarily lost his sense of taste . For a person who have a passionate relationship with his palate, its like being constantly punched on his stomach every time he eats.

Ironically, with his gustation functionality in retirement , the more he wanted to eat different foods thinking that he can cajole the follicles of his tongue to come back pronto. I reminded him, as long as he is in medication for his allergies, it will take a little bit of time . Even if he is served dinner prepared by 5 star Michelin chef Alain Ducasse, it will probably reduced my husband to tears for I will be enjoying the spread but I will have fun describing to him how the food taste ala Andrew Zimmern e.g minerally, herbally, irony etc.

Last Saturday in his quest for his wandering palate, he took me to Helfer's www.helferspastries.com. , a mom and pop bakeshop in Florissant for lunch. I am not much of a sandwich person but their CJ's Reuben created an explosive havoc on my tongue with the right tartness of sauerkraut; I fell in love with it. The quiche is sacrosanctly eggy. I can tell from the food we ordered that the ingredients used are not industrial type (I meant commercial but 'industrial" makes it sounds more sinister).

But what made the day so special was when my husband bit into his Chocolate eclair. He said he can discern all the flavors in the Eclair, eureka , taste buds 70% restored. He felt like he was in heaven, said he.

You don't have to experience the loss of the ability to savor to fully enjoy Helfer's Chocolate Eclair. The pastry, filling, and chocolate glaze are done in perfection that even a comatose taste buds would gladly wake up to it.

Kermit and Mickey Mouse , Sad

2011-02-17T20:21:00.000-08:00

I am a sucker for old fashion cartoons that I can proudly admit that I saw Snow white and the Seven Dwarfs more than I can count my fingers and toes; unabashedly cried when the great King Mufasa died and Simba tried to wake him up, commiserate with Miss Piggy in her unrequited love for Kermit and other emotional display of affection to these animated personalities that I won't mention for it will totally make me look beyond silly .

In May of 1990, the creator of the Muppets, Jim Henson died. I saw a tribute from the Disney artist of a drawing of Kermit the Frog being consoled by Mickey Mouse on the death of Kermit's creator. That drawing created an imprint on my mind the idea of raw sadness associated with death. Ironic that non living cartoon characters could invoke such cogent feeling in me, on issue of death.

Here is the photo I am talking about:

There is a colored version of this but I was still digging up the Internet and up to this point I have no luck. The black and white rendering made it even poignant, the banjo cast aside, the frog hands on his head, you have to conjure your own image of a bereft Kermit and sorrowed Mickey because we always relate them to happy and gregarious characters. Admittedly its not easy associating them with death and sadness. But this picture was able to accomplish that.

These Boots are made for walking

2011-01-17T02:31:00.000-08:00

Mary Jane Boots by Marc Jacobs

     Finally I am in my other home, the Philippines. As I am slowly creeping in the ranks of the senior citizens, I don't find travelling as much fun as five years ago. Being airborne for 18 hours in a stale cramp space, how I wish that I can win a lottery so that I can buy a comfortable arrangement in my crossing of the Pacific Ocean.

    Its understandable that majority of Filipinas going home to their tropical abode when some parts North America were buried in 6 inches of snow, wearing knee length boots was de rigueur. I wonder how they managed when their legs and feet swell after travelling almost 8250 miles up in the air.

    It was in my second leg of my trip in Narita airport in Tokyo (another 4 1/2 hours plane ride to reach Manila) when I was totally blown away what some Filipinas would do to be fashionable and to announce to the people in NAIA that they came from the world of snow and sleet.

     There were a couple of Pinays in the bathroom, taking off their ballet flat shoes (obviously they wore it from the States to Japan leg of the trip) and trying their mightiest to fit their swollen feet and ankle in their fancy riveted knee length boots. I feel for them, the look of utter frustration and maybe pain were written all over their faces. After a game of tug of war with their boots, they finally managed to squeezed in their extremities in the ultimate symbol of the land of winter wonderland where these types of boots were worn.

    It would not surprise me if they requested for a wheelchair during deplaning in Manila. Its not easy being a fashionista but its stupid to subject yourself to torture when you know you are arriving in a country where the weather is warm as a boiling kettle , and you are wearing a boots that's probably cutting the blood circulation to your brain.

Of birds and men

2010-12-27T20:38:00.000-08:00

She was roused from her sleep by her husband. Bird sighting alert! A hawk just landed on their backyard deck. She immediately scrambled out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen window. They did not exchanged word for fear of startling the magnificent bird, both of them impervious to the fact that their house was insulated from the din of the outside world.

They stood there in awe, hoping this feathered creature would stay for a little much longer. And it did! He was in for the hunt, looking for his prey amongst the various rodents that create a ruckus at this time of day in the small expanse of green.

The territorial cardinal

When did this morning ritual of bird watching started, two, three or four months ago? They can not recall, what they remembered were the joys of watching the cadre of sparrows feeding, the brilliant scarlet red of the matured cardinals pecking on the hapless sparrows, the soft coos of the graceful mourning doves, the swelling breasts of the chickadees, the distinct ticking calls of the juncos and the incredible all - direction- flight of the hummingbirds . Occasionally, screeching hawk like cry of the blue jays breaks the usual cacophony emanating from their yard. The visit from one of the members of the passerine birds gave a touch of Gothic flair on their avian sanctuary that when she saw them, she could not help but vociferated "Never--- nevermore (Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven)

Robin's bright red breast never fails to attract their attention, but they won't go to the feeder preferring the berries of the invasive honeysuckle bushes. Why would they come here in the first place if they would not feast on the buffet of sunflower, dried cherries, wheat and every imaginable nuts supplied by their two legged human friends. Alas, maybe they are here to participate in the duels of tweeting, warbling, chirping and trilling occurring every morning orchestrated by an unseen master.

The coven of the sparrows

Sipping her coffee on the kitchen, entertained by the flying living things, she can not help but be thankful to the Divine Providence for giving her the privilege of revelling in these untainted luxury that only He can make possible. And her cat partook in the morning ritual unaware that she should be stalking these creatures for her meal.

Robert Frost homage to the birds:

It could not have come down to us so far,

Through the interstices of things ajar

On the long bead chain of repeated birth,

To be a bird while we are men on earth,

The most lethal bird predator - our cat Pinay enjoying her untouchable preys

Christmasizing your Crib

2010-12-12T21:07:00.000-08:00

Corollary to my previous blog on rehashing Christmas cards by converting them into tree ornaments , I tried and I am still trying to stick to my commitment of spending zero dollar on Xmas tinsels this year. Well, since my hands I are tied in relation to opening my wallet to Christmasize my crib, I opted to let my imagination run wild with what I have currently on hand in such a way that my decor would look new and fresh.

1. I have these red fabric with gold dragon prints in my storage box, ( purchased from one of my vintage shopping hunts from ages ago ( that means a month of so and it costs me 3 yards for $ 4 dollars). I do not know how to sew a throw pillow cover but I taught myself by getting the pattern from an existing cover that I have. Since I am zipper challenged, envelope type of pillow covers are such a breeze for me to create.

Changing the Throw Pillow Covers to Xmas Colors , the cat is not included in the decor.

2. I hung the recycled Xmas fan card in my 20 year old tree.

3. I inserted these Xmas balls and berries on an existing floral arrangement to infuse a Christmas motif. After the holidays, take the ornaments off and it's back to own self again, the vase I mean.

4. Since I am a cat person, these trio of cats were glammed up for the holidays by leftover red ribbons around their necks. Their feline friends would be livid with envy. If you have statues/ vases/ bowls or even your utilitarian lampshades in your house, embellish them with xmas colored ornaments.

5. I collected a lot of beads from attending the Fat Tuesday parade in downtown St. Louis every February. Sorted it out by colors and displaying them in glass jars sure made them very useful and it adds a lot of colors to my etagere.

6. I put a red big bowl and filled it with xmas ornaments of the same color, dabbled it with some twig beads, added the regular faux succulents that I use the whole year for my centerpiece.

There are thousand of ways prepping up your house for the holidays without breaking the bank, with some inspiration, a twist of creativity and unlimited imagination to boot, you are all set!

Football = Hilarity

2010-12-05T19:54:00.000-08:00

Photo from Getty Images.com

One lady in my social networking page was griping about football taking precedence over  church attendance on Sunday. I can commiserate with her but on a different scale. Lucky for me, play time for my husband's favorite football team starts at 3 pm so it does not run counter with our church schedule but if it does, there's always the DVR to do it.

It's hard to compete with sports e.g. baseball and football specially when its in full season. I thought I was done and over with that. Growing up in a one television household with my older brother hooked on sports for the behemoths (basketball) in the land peopled by the vertically challenged (that is compared to a giant, no offense meant to my people, the Filipinos), he  would slyly preempt any chance for me to switch channel to my favorite TV show, I rue the fact that remote was not yet invented during that time ; as a consequence I developed a furtive enmity towards broadcasted sports in general.

It robbed me of some episodes of Love Boat, Punky Brewsters, Man from Atlantis etc. My lot had improved considerably since I moved here in United States for TVs in our house are like sentinels in every room waiting to be put to life at anytime. Still, I dread the sports season. Baseball season is not so bad, since its more of a genteel game, (boring if I may say so) but with football being a fast pace sport, I can not compete - for the attention and the use of our HD TV ( I call this the big TV) with my husband.

The moment the St. Louis Rams starts grinding their cleats on the turf , my husband is embedded on his favorite coach and only the call of his bladder or the imperious commercials can extricate him from it.  More often that not, I would be roused from whatever I am doing by his encouraging words to the quarterback for a seamless pass, instructing the fullback, right/left tackle or the tightend to guard the prized quarterback, his clapping for yards that were gained, hurrays for the first down till the 3rd, and a deafening howl of approbation when a touch down occur in the end zone.

But wait, if his team is losing, then he can be as bawdy as an intoxicated sailor out on his liberty with sprinkle of  unprintable expletives here and there, castigating the wide receiver for an intercepted pass, haranguing the coaching team for an ineffective play and a heart rending yelp when the opposing team scores.

I cope with these roller coaster scenarios unfolding in my household with hilarity. Look, these are 6 foot , 300 lbs men wearing colorful spandex tights with matching  pads from their shoulder to their tailbone.   It's the gayest costume in the world of sports, making the sports dome look like one big 1980 aerobic convention.  A capacious adult male in leggings running like a gazelle, gargantuan flesh on top of each other on a pile up, torso paralyzing sacks and balletic catch by the wide receiver , these are sights to behold.

Cliche, if  you can't beat them, join them. So I consorted with my husband in his enjoyment of the sport. But it does not mean I would spend my time watching the game like he does.  At least I know what my husband was talking about when he passionately described to me the play that he just watched instead of the polite "really, "uhu" and "that's good" (meaning - what the bleep bleep are you talking about ).

I just wish they can design more mannish sportswear for the football players, but on the other hand it would not be fun for me when that happens for it will divest me of my source of enjoyment watching grown burly spandexed men cavorting on the field .

No Matter What Road We Travel, All Roads Leads To Home

2010-11-20T20:18:00.000-08:00

Travelling... leaving home for an exotic and unfamiliar locale surely evokes excitement.

When I was growing up in the sleepy barrio in the Southern Luzon in the Philippines, I am always wondering what lies beyond the mountains and the seas that enclosed my little world. But this notion was in between my preoccupation of trying to get ahead with the childhood game of tumbang preso so that I won't end up being labeled as bagoong (salted paste made from shrimps and small fish).

Later on in life, I developed an insatiable itch for discovering what lies further the confines of my abode. I considered those travels as one most important chapter of my adult life. These are experiences and memories that like education, are always portable and it goes with you all the time. I was wondering why to some people, travelling is such a daunting task, an interruption to their prosaic life. As if, they are about to leave their cocoon, that stepping outside their comfort zone is akin to doing a bungee jumping sans the cord or agreeing to marrying a man you met online 15 minutes ago.

What makes the idea of leaving to explore other places very exhilarating to me is the thought that I will be coming back home. That my home will always be there waiting, ready to welcome me unconditionally, no need for reasons for my return; compels me to seek, explore and learn from these foreign domain.

As Japanese poet Sensho (?) asserted , no matter what road we travel, all roads leads to home. And I will be coming home soon.

This video is more on a romantic leanings, suffice to say the sentiments of someone going back home aptly describes it.

Rehashing Christmas Cards

2010-11-20T17:51:00.000-08:00

The time of yuletide season is in our doorstep. The Christian world and other believers of Christmas will be in state of perpetual tizzy. Credit cards bloodletting will soon commence and the lists of gifts for loved and not so loved ones are like albatross hanging on every psyche of the gift givers.

In this days of austerity, some people are either mortgaged induced homeless or redundant/downsized casualties, be smart on gift giving. I am not sure if I can practice what I am ranting in this blog about gift giving but I am not buying any Christmas decor this year. I would rehash, rework, recycle, reposition or any verb or word that has re as a prefix on it, all my existing yuletide ornaments. I will probably paint my much loved and much spoiled cat Pinay, Grinch green as part of my mobile noel decoration.

I even contemplated deleting people from my fabled Xmas cards lists to save some trees and drive the bottom line of United States Postal Service further into red (stamps prices are constantly rising and yet they are losing billions). Other options is to send Ecard, but lets be honest about it, it is never the same. We are suckers for greetings that are tactile, cards that we can ran our fingers on, smell ,keep and occasionally look and revisit its ultimate destination - a shoebox or bin tucked in topmost shelf in the basement.

My a little bit of semi hoarding tendencies got the better of me that my Xmas card box is already screaming due to copious number of cards on it. Having ingested a considerable amount of Al Gore creed I decided to make something out of it, hence this posting,

Materials

Steps

The finished fan Xmas card ornament, ready to hang on your tree

Well, Santa's elves can use this if they get sweaty during the gift run.

Tinsel tooling your hat for winter

2010-11-10T11:34:00.000-08:00

I am a tropical person, so much so that I dread the onset of cold weather here in the Midwest. It makes me lazy going out of my temperature controlled abode for it means putting on five to ten pounds of clothing. Shrink wrapping your body is no fun but getting pneumonia ain't no picnic either.

When you used to live in a country which is within the blistering range of the equatorial sun, any precipitations in the temperate zones sounds so nice and fuzzy. After living here for almost 6 years, I wish my sisters in the Philippines can send me barrels and barrels of sweltering sunshine to keep me warm on cold blustery winter time.

So its time to fandangle my winter caps. Last summer, I picked up a fleece cap and beanie cap. It was the best time to buy these for the prices were outrageously cheap. The hats are kinda plain , a little bit of tweaking are needed so here's what I came up.

Yellow fleece cap with felt flower pin. I have this corsage pin for my summer dress.

My version of the beanie hat famous in the roaring 30's.

I used the teddy bear of my stepdaughter to model the caps. I think these members of the ursine family (the actual bears not the teddy) are the best representation of cold weather. They are snugly and woolly, I meant the teddy this time.

Tips:

1. You can buy fabric flowers corsage with pins fastener, all you have to do is pin it on the hat.

2. Attached the accessories by sewing.

3. The earrings are quite tricky. Pin it like the way it is attached to the earlobe, cut the extra post and bend it . You don't want to end up with scratches on your head from the sharp points.

4. Use of fabric glue is another idea but have not tried it on a stretchy material for a cap.

I just hope that these refurbished winter caps will lure me to step out in the cold or I could go the other way, keep my ass in the house and suffer cabin fever and order blanket snuggie on TV.

Stanley Ketchel by Manuel A. Mora

2010-11-07T15:41:00.000-08:00

Vertically challenged we the Filipinos are, yet we love the sport of basketball where height is definitely a might. Growing up with my older brother in one television household, my chances of watching my favorite shows were remote as me winning jueteng (local numbers game) when the pro basketball season was on.

Boxing is another sport that Filipinos have affectation for. I think we have better chances to succeed in this sport, we have the physical built and mental toughness to survive in the pugilist arena.

Interestingly, a nephew of my husband, Manuel Mora recently published his book , Stanley Ketchel A Life of Triumph and Prophecy, and it's out in the market. It's an engaging story of an American boxer, I had read the rough draft of the book and I am pretty adamant that this will be a good read.

Check out the book especially if you are a boxing aficionado or just to learn the life of an unsung American Boxer - Stanley Ketchel.

Click on the link below if you would like to get a copy of Manny's book.

Stanley Ketchel: A Life of Triumph and Prophecy

Bikining Itim Amidst the Grandeur of the Eiffel Tower

2010-10-29T19:02:00.000-07:00

The last time I was in Paris, the European continent was sizzling due to the heatwave.

Me and my travelling buddy took a side trip to Barcelona and Paris en route to attend a friend's wedding in London. We were supposed to represent our company's CEO in that wedding hence it's a freebie trip. My TB (travelling buddy) had relatives working in Spain and France so our accommodations were taken care of .   As espoused by the queen of irony - Jessica Zafra of the impending world domination of Filipinos via diaspora - for wanna be globe trotters; start making lists of relatives to the nth degree of consanguinity living abroad or even people you are remotely related. You might need them if you ever caught the travel itch but can only spare for the airfare and pasalubong (presents/keepsake) or you will end up eating ramen all the time.

Filipinos abroad still practice their genuine unequaled hospitality . When my niece and I were in a hotel in Antwerp Belgium, the Filipino Concierge offered to cook us adobo and rice after learning we were gallivanting Europe for 11days and rightly assumed that we missed them badly . It was such an unexpected wonderful gesture.

The Aunt and Uncle of my TB worked for a Lebanese couple (on a holiday somewhere) whose house was about a block away from Musee d Orsay. They graciously offered us their quarter which was on the top of the apartment building (referred to as pigeon houses) , elevators were so small that you can tell what the other person had for dinner when he/she exhales/inhales.  Despite the cramp accommodation, dinners were provided for us (first time ate frog legs)learned to eat grapes with Kirin cheese, we got our own tourist guide in Pilipino and Kapampangan and we had the grand view of the Eiffel tower from our pigeon window.

I equate the Eiffel Tower to romance and glitz but my visit on that hot August changed that perspective.

After completing the usual tour of Musee d Orsay, Louvre (was not impressed with the Monalisa) and other touristy point of interest around Paris, the surrogate Aunt and Uncle took us to the Trocadero Garden for Eiffel Tower tour and to fraternize with the Filipino expatriates in the city. The unrelenting heat wave forced most of the Pinoys out of their quarters and would converge on both sides of fountain of Varsovie in the Garden . Even in France, the ethnic regional division was palpable that on the right side of the fountain the Filipino natives from Central and Northern Luzon had their base while the left plank was dominated by the Tagalog speaking Pinoys. The right wingers warned us not to cross the other side of the garden for they have a grudge against the Filipinos there.

After alighting from the Metro, admiring the bronze statue Taureau et Daim (Bull and deer) and Chevaus et Chien (horses and dog) on the approach to the fountain, our aural senses were greeted by Vincent Dafalong's (a Filipino novelty singer) Bikining Itim (Black Bikini), blaring from a karaoke machine . The OFW (overseas foreign workers) were assembled on the grounds of the park. We were invited in their impromptu picnic, Filipino foods were abundant from the never ending pansit (noodles) to balut (fertilized duck egg). Manicure, pedicure, hilot (massages) and hair cutting services were offered, raffle tickets for t-shirts and bead bracelets from Boracay were peddled (albeit very much overpriced), old editions of Filipino newspapers and magazines were passed around, smiles frozen for cameras , children playing and palaver of gossips and news exchanged.

That's a piece of the Philippines in Paris, I felt so at home that for a fleeting moment I had forgotten that I was in the City of Love not in Luneta Park . OFW's life had never been easy for the family left in the islands and even more difficult to the Filipinos who had to leave their native land. I can not comprehend why some Filipino tourists are sometimes embarrassed by the presence of OFW on downtown areas in the various foreign countries they visit. Maybe they don't want to be stereotyped as domestic helpers. Hello, these contract workers are the pillars of the Philippine economy.

After mega doses of Yoyoy Villame's accented arias, Rico Puno's ballads and gas inducing servings of palitaw (flat sticky rice cake) , we reluctantly leave  for the tour of Eiffel Tower but not after a plastic bag of puto (steamed rice cake) was handed to us for the road.   We promised our new found friends to visit them again before we leave for London.

Every time I see that famous landmark in the media, it never fails to evoke in me of the memories of those OFWs. They were there to better the lives of their family, enduring loneliness and alienation, oblivious to the splendor and beauty of their adopted city, while we, the regular tourists spend money in order to see and experience a Parisian lifestyle. Ain't that ironic?

I. M Pei Pyramid in Louvre

Gustave Eiffel's Tower

Cupcake fit For My Cat

2010-10-22T15:10:00.000-07:00

Espresso Chocolate Mega Cupcake for Pinay

Key Lime Pie

Pantry shelf chocolate Orange cake

Ricciarelli - Seines (almond) Macaroons

Cheers, our cat Pinay turned 4 today. In lieu of this auspicious occasion I baked a ginormous Espresso Cupcake for her in spite of the fact that she does not fancy a brew of any kind or my gourmet creations for that matter. Oh, maybe it was just my excuse every year this time in October to fill myself with calorie boosting  food.

A friend of mine from England gifted me this recipe book by Nigella Lawson, How to Be a Domestic Goddess.  I am a late bloomer when it comes to baking, I find it a daunting task, messy and I believe the probability of my failing in this field is as high as the current unemployment index. I assumed my friend gave this to me to compel me to explore the intricacies of the exact science of baking.

This book is easy to use for a newbie like me. I enjoyed reading the musings of the author on her emotional attachments to each recipes.  The book's assurance that baking is not that difficult and the rewards in terms of appreciation and accolades are worth the effort, I find very true. Borrowing an ad line from a credit card company - , for me, its priceless. Choices of recipes are quite varied from cakes, pies, desserts, breads, cookies and seasonal baking concoctions.   There are colorful photos of the recipes that would induce you to make them. At the scale of 1 to 10, I would rate mine in terms of appearance to 8 :-) but flavor wise, it's at 10 .

I am proud to say that my husband who have a Cookie Monster tendency for anything sweet may it be a bark of mahogany tree, raves on my baked goodies.   He can not believe that I was able to come up cakes with gourmet quality considering my amateur ability .

I particularly like Nigella's key lime pie and the chocolate hazelnut cake (with nutella spread - divine). Even her simple recipe like the pantry- shelf chocolate orange cake, guests at my party were wondering what exotic ingredients I used , as what the the recipe said its all in my pantry.

Having said that, I wish my cat would develop a taste for cakes and sweets for I will be using this book for her future birthdays and continue on my quest to be a domestic goddess.

If you peel the skin, we are all the same

2010-10-20T14:50:00.000-07:00

Dr. Gunther Von Hagen's Skinman

Coming in the bedroom, she was suffused in ethereal peacefulness emanating from the horizontal shafts of morning lights streaming from the window blinds bathing her sleeping cat on the bed. Odd it may seems,this scene impels her to write on issue of race.

She met her husband on line almost 7 years ago and married him for love. A native of a third world country, considering the circumstances of how they met, it is common to assume that she may be one of the many who will marry a foreigner for economic reasons, a mercantile refugee. She has a comfortable life in her native country, a house paid for, a chauffeur, financially rewarding career, traveled a lot and indulged in hosts of activities that single women would do. Why would she leave this comfort zone for a man, live 8,249 miles from her family and friends, kibitzed by her expatriate acquaintances.

Well, in life there is always a trade off, she mused, you can't have it all. She thought that once in her life she has to make a hard choice.

She was color blind when it comes to love. She did not see her husband as African American but a person, a friend and a lover. Living almost all of her life in a homogeneous society in her native land, where class is dictated by the enormity of your house, size of you bank account and educational acquisition; she realized her limited understanding of race issue in America specially in the Midwest where she is domiciled. Apparently, majority of immigrants to the United States are ignorant of the issue of race relations for they see America on what you saw on media ; and race is a domestic affair.

A tinge of prejudice here and there towards her husband and her, she experienced it. At one instance, an African American co worker of hers commented that brown skinned people are likely to be treated better than them. She was oblivious to these delicate concerns, then she realized she must start understandingand embrace her husband's ethnicity . Does her expatriate friends married to a Caucasian feel the same way, are they spared from some of the nuanced bigotry when they are with their husbands? Or do they considered themselves white like the way she appraise herself now as black? Or should she adhere strongly to her own ethnicity and let the multiracial society she belongs now sort it out for themselves?

These perplexing introspection within her was simplified one day by her masseuse in a conversation. Her masseuse was a young light skinned African American who loves ZZ Top (American Blues Rock Band) , she found it peculiar for its not common for her ethnicity to indulge in these kind of genre - that is according to her husband. She found out that the masseuse is a daughter of an white mother and African American father, hence her predilection for ZZ Top.

They discussed the travails of being non white in the Midwest but what the masseuse said put everything in perspective: when you peel the layer of the skin from a person, what's inside are all the same whether you are White, Black Brown, Yellow or Red skinned.

And she believed her.

Pimp your Shoes

2010-10-19T18:30:00.000-07:00

For some woman, it is considered sacrilegious to wear the same outfit that was worn before to another occasion, apropos with her shoes.  If you have a talent for dressmaking or you have your own seamstress (lucky me I got 3 dressmaker sisters) , then the dress can be altered but you are somewhat limited to what you can do with it, maybe accessorize it or forget about it.

I hang on to my shoes as much as possible, especially if the fit is excellent and it is not giving me mountains of bunions or calluses as rough as sandpaper .  Eventually I will get tired of the shoe but it is mighty difficult to give it away, donate it or throw it.

Then maybe its time to pimp the shoes, add more pizzas to it , make it look new. When my vanity outsizes my bank account, then my creativity rears its beautiful head .

I thought of getting shoe clips, its like clips used for earrings, or ready made shoe clips ranging from floral to funky but it will set you back for $20.00 or so.  Check on Etsy.com, it offers handmade and eclectic choices for shoe clips.

shoe clips from etsy.com

But then I decided to do it on my own. When a woman decides that her shoes need to change its appearance, its mortality begins to go fast in her closet. That means I can pimp it without regrets.

BEFORE

After

To perk up this Dr. Scholl's sandals, I glued the blue studded flower (part of earring and brooch set from my mother in law's jewelry box clean up) on the middle of the ribbon.

Before

Anne Taylor's Loft flat shoes plain jane look bothered me lately, to amped up the black color, I glued the metallic floral disc (leftover form my scrap booking project) on the center.

Tips on pimping your shoes: make sure that accessories you use complement the color and structure of the shoes. Use double sided tape to attach the decoration to test on how it will look on your shoe and on your feet. I opted to use glue nails, if it can work on you carpentry work it sure will definitely work on your shoes.

After

Door Stopper and wall art for Pinay

2010-10-17T18:49:00.000-07:00

Door Stopper

Last night, while I was in the roiling sea of back pain, I decided to keep my creative juices on a high gear to to keep my mind off the pain.

Our cat Pinay has an issue with our bedroom door. She will meow, scratch her clawless paw on the door until you open it for her, she prefers it to be a little bit ajar. You see, she wants to have the liberty of moving in to our bed so that she can curl with us or have her neck rub . If you are ready for a sleepless night then shut it tight.

We can not use the wedge door stopper for some reasons that I will not waste time discussing on my blog. My husband uses his shoe, and it irritates me for it has no aesthetic sense. In order to solve this pestering issue, I made a door stopper. I got the inspiration on line. See the attached link if your cats need one.

Materials was a fabric that is used for outside furniture and throw pillows, it will not get dirty and easier to clean. I used decorative stones instead of rice (orientals like me have reverence for rice, we eat it and should not be used for bedizenment ) to give it some weight, pillow fillers to give it shape and after less than an hour, woke up my husband to present to him my pain reliever - e. g. the door stopper.

Actually, the fabric for the door stopper was a remnant from another project. I originally planned to use Marimekko fabric but it was expensive so I opted to a more cheaper alternative. I got canvas stretchers bars from a yahoo website reuseit.com here in St. Louis. It's a recycling club where you can post what you need or post what you can give away. A gallery owner gave me different sizes of canvas stretchers . Fabric cost $10.00 a yard (on sale), staple gun courtesy of my hubby and some inspiration and I have an instant wall art.

Fabric Wall Art

Now my cat has a matching wall art and door stopper.

Bromate Free Whole Wheat Chocolate Chip Cookie

2010-10-10T15:08:00.000-07:00

The two pound bag of King Arthur Flour 100% organic whole wheat flour (wheat germ and bran, never bleached and never bromated - it's written on the package, I never made this up I swear) had been staring at me from the corner of my topmost pantry eversince my husband bought it for reason I am not aware of.

Being a purveyor of saving, I hunted the net for a cookie recipe so that I can use the wheat flour and prevent it from ending in the landfill. It's in allrecipe.com and the link if you are interested : http://allrecipes.com//Recipe/whole-wheat-chocolate-chip-cookies/Detail.aspx .

I decided to do it after lunch, that was when my husband was ensconced in his favorite chair ready to turn into a football coach potato yelling at the top of his lungs and occasionally cursing like a drunken sailor whenever his team team was winning or losing. Regretfully, St. Louis Rams lost despite the unsolicited coaching of my husband from his green leather chair.

My lower back pain and 2 tablets of pain killer must have played a trick on me, I melted the butter (did not used margarine as stated in the recipe) instead of softening it ; used 1/2 cup instead of 3/4 cup of it , hence my batter was as stiff as my arthritic lumbar region; freezer paper instead of parchment paper; over baked one batch and realized that I had not bought the cooling rack for my baking adventures.

Despite these blunders which rarely I commit (they say baking is an exact science) when I am baking, the whole wheat cookie turned out good, according to my number one fan, the Cookie monster of University city, my husband. Besides its healthier than regular flour cookie, chewy and do not have that bitter after taste of cookies made from regular white all purpose flour.

Sometimes I suspect that my husband loves me a lot that he would always bombard me with praises on my baking, I am pretty sure even if I bake a mud with Ghirardeli chocolate chips morsels on it, he would still eat it. I am kidding on the last sentence, he probably would not eat the mud but chocolate chips will still have a chance.

Shoes and Osama in my Mind

2010-10-06T09:02:00.000-07:00

I distinctly recalled what I was doing when Lady Diana had the fatal accident in Paris, it was one sweaty August afternoon and I was trying to balance my measly paycheck against my insurmountable pile of bills. Like any female besotted by a Princess, I was inconsolable.

9/11 tragedy - I associate it with women's shoes.

You might wonder what twisted situation I was in at that time. I was figuratively burning the midnight oil doing a term paper for a lady friend (taking up fashion designing course) of the Executive who happens to be my superior on the evolution of ladies shoes. The Executive, lugging tomes of hardbound books with glossy illustrations of ladies footwear, non chalantly informed me that I need to do a 12 page paper on history of women's shoes complete with bibliographies,references, photos etc. He needs it the next day. I am an accountant by profession and not a Recto term paper writer. I am well aware that this was beyond the scope of my job responsibilities but being at the mercy of the person who signs your paycheck who am I to say no. So I placidly accepted the order and I know for sure, I will not be sleeping that night.

I was prowling the Internet for additional materials, when the news broke on TV of the of the terrorist attack in New York. I want to stop what I was doing but I can't . Multitasking , I finished the paper while following the event on TV and on the web.

I was informed that the lady friend of the Executive who opportunistically claimed the work of somebody else, was so happy when she got the the papers with all the accoutrement of a professionally done research work.

I tried to dissociate the 9/11 events from Turn shoes in Germany,platform shoes in Elizabethan England, chopine, Catherine de Medici , Vivier, Louboutin, Choo in my memory but I figured out that was an exercise in futility.

I am ambivalent on my feelings on that night. I despised doing the paper due to the event association that ensued in my subconscious later, loved it at some point for I learned the historical evolution of shoes in utilitarian and fashionable perspective. But one thing I am absolutely certain, I execrate up to this day that lady friend of the Executive, for not doing her part as a a good student, for depriving me of one night sleep, for plagiarizing my work, for me not knowing what grade she got and for robbing me the privilege of remembering 9/11 the way it should be remembered, with sadness, not with heels, bows, designer shoes, killer stilettos and vanities .

Now, would you blame me if I consider that lady friend of the Executive as the Osama bin Ladin of my 9/11 recollection. I still have the gorgeous shoe books, I can not find it in my heart to dispose them... in retrospect those shoes reminded me of immeasurable beautiful things in life in spite of the existence of atrocious actions of men like that of 9/11 attack.