I'm Crazy Too

Something profound came over me last week: I decided to go on a three-day juice diet. Because...

1. I've been eating too much burgers, fries, and milk shakes. Aaah, strawberry is the best!
2. I can do it! 
3. I'd like to be able to wear a bathing suit in a little less than three months without adjusting and readjusting the hems of my suit to hide reason number 1.

I've been psyching myself to do this over the weekend, by...

1. Eating all the foods I think I'll be "homesick" for for the duration of the diet.
2. Practicing the liquid part by drinking six sixteen-ounce bottles of water with lemon juice.
3. Carbo loading for the big event, because  number 2 psyche didn't go so well.

Today I bought the ingredients. I practically bought out the entire produce section of the super market!

[I can do this!]

My fridge has never been so full of colorful, healthy, raw food.

[Um, I think I can do this...]

What do I expect to gain from this, in thuh-ree days time?

[Man, I really hope I can do this...]

Healthy glowing skin...

[Can I last a day???]

The energy of a twenty-eight month old mighty Quinn...

[Are two days a stretch of the imagination???]

Washboard abs, like my niece Mayet's...

[Oh boy... What am I getting myself into?...]

Help me???

First Communion

Quinn went to her first First Communion celebration. It was her Kuya Louie's special day! 

But of course, she didn't have any idea of how important this event was. While she worked up a sweat running in and out of the giant doorways, reaching for the mucky holy water in their vessels at the doors, and trying to catch the attention of the canine church-goers — yes, dogs are a normal and common presence in church — Louie was reverently bowing his head and kneeling to get his first taste of that wafer about which he had so often asked his parents how it tastes. 

I remembered how proud I was at my First Communion, of how I confessed to Father Hezel that I lied to my parents about how I lost my zories at the sewer plant at the end of the airport runway (in Truk), and that I bossed my little cousins into stealing some metal apparatus with a dinging dial (a timer?) with me and the only punishment I received was a penance of two Our Fathers, five Holy Maries, and an I believe (in Trukese... but don't ask me to recite them now, for all I can remember is "Samach mei nonomw win nang..."), and no spanking!

I watched Louie closely to see if he bore a proud countenance... Indeed, he was proud, exchanging high fives with his fellow catechumens. 

Later, I asked him what the worst sin was at his First Confession. "I haven't been studying, and I talk too much in class," he answered shamefully. 

What?! I thought. This kid is an angel compared to me!

And when the ceremony was over, it was like pulling teeth to get the two to stand atill for a photo. 

Amen. 

A Day Full of Cousins

It was a very eventful weekend. The cousins and the kissing cousins came over, with their parents, and their kissing aunties and lolas, and their friends. There was plenty of food, and with this many people, someone was bound to bring dessert and beverages. So the feast was complete! 

After the eating, and while the aunties and the kissing aunties and lolas sat around and picked at leftovers while discussing who was angry at who now, and why, and theretofore that's ten!, the cousins and kissing cousins went outside to play. It started out with made-up backyard games that involved balls and a broom and rake. 

Then the Mighty Quinn just had to step into the kiddie pool. What is it about a body of water, small or big, that attracts little ones so? This water was two days old, and fuh-reezing cold! So cold indeed, that lips were turning blue, and teeth were chattering within ten minutes of submersion. My cousin explained: "kids born in the winter months are at home in the cold." Sure enough, the kids who swam in that frigid water were born in December and January – the dead of winter!

If the clouds hadn't rolled in, and the wind picked up, those "arctic" babies would have stayed in water 'til dark. Now inside the warmth of the house, they changed, cuddled up for warmth, ate again, and commenced playing. Again.

 

 

Until it was time for the guests to go home. Then it was cry fest, with "Idon'twannagohome" and "whycan'twestaylonger" echoing as children were ushered and carried to their respective vehicles, buckled up, and driven home.

Thank-you text messages from my cousins and kissing cousins lit up my telephone screen, along with information that their little ones were fast asleep before they turned the corner from our house. The Mighty Quinn fell asleep at 8:30 that night. She hadn't been asleep that early since she was an infant!

Dear Miko

Dear Miko,

I dug through the bread and cereal drawer for breakfast, and came upon an almost empty box of Kellog's Frosted Flakes. It made me think of you because...

1.  I don't buy "branded" cereals for myself. I eat the off-the-beaten-path brands that you might say "tastes like cardboard!" Or, as you would have announced so unabashedly when you were seven years old: "YUCK! That's not cereal!"

We were in  Canada, visiting the Lewis family; there were the most delicious home-made cinnamon rolls at the breakfast table, and you exclaimed "This isn't cinnamon! I want the real one, like at the store [in Truk]!"

And 2. Only you, so well-meaning, would leave just a little bit for the next person to eat, even if the leftover is barely enough for a full meal. Is it because you don't want to be labeled "The One Who Ate It All!"? The seven-year old Miko would not have eaten a whole bowl of cereal, but not because of the reasons above. You ate so excruciatingly slow - slower than molasses growing in January! - that I ended up taking your food away from you because we had to be somewhere already. We missed the ferry once, because you took almost forty-five minutes to eat a bowl of cereal. You piled the food in one cheek, closed your eyes, and let your hands play out a fight scene, slashing and punching the air. Your imagination was so real to you!

You wouldn't complain about me taking away your food though. You never did complain. Except one day, in the heat of a July afternoon, strapped in on your booster seat at the back of the car, you suddenly exclaimed "MAN, IT IS FREAKING HOT!" Uncle 5-Star and I burst out laughing because you sounded just like him.

You used to ask to be placed inside the shopping cart at the store, or to be carried on my back when we hiked through Yost Park, or to be supported by your feet so that you could hold on to the playground monkey bar without actually hanging on yourself. 

 2006

 2001

I used to call you Sunshine because you were a ray of sunshine, so infectiously happy, anyone who met you couldn't help but smile, as if a ray of sunlight just warmed them. Now you go by "Miks", you have a more grown-up sense of humor, you have a teenager's freedom, and yet you know your limits. You're a gentleman: you open doors for me, you offer to carry the groceries for me, you compliment me on my most dramatic haircut by saying "It's boyish, but you still look good!" You tell me "You tried, Tita Netty..." when I couldn't make it over the A-frame wall of the Mud Factor Race, "You did good!" That's right, you now surpass me by physical strength.

So when I ate that less-than-one-bowl's worth of cereal this morning, I couldn't help but miss you so very much. You will always be my sunshine, no matter how much bigger and stronger than me you become.

But next time, just eat it all. Don't leave a teasingly small amount of cereal for me to find when I'm starving!

 Love,

Tita Netty

Thinking of Tito Pete On Veteran's Day

 With Tito Pete on Easter Sunday 2000 

I'm told that I met Tito Pete for the first time when I was a toddler. Tita V brought me to Guam, where I stayed with them for a couple of weeks. I actually remember parts of that visit, particularly watching Arthur, an older boy, eating olives that he poked onto the tips of his fingers. Tita V and Tito Pete lived in an apartment, and I remember climbing the stairs outside to get to the second floor. One story that Tita V tells me, of which I have absolutely no recollection, was this: they put me down for a nap, and thinking they had the afternoon to themselves, started fooling around on their bed. But I wandered into the bedroom! Tita V quickly put me back down for that nap. Later that evening I supposedly asked her what were you and that old man doing on the bed? She answered "I was picking lice out of his head". And that was that.

It is Veterans Day, and I especially thought of Tito Pete today. He was not enlisted in the US Military [I stand corrected; see post script below], but I think he served the military as a sailor in the United States Merchant Marine. In fact, he was a crane operator on his ship. According to Wikipedia, ...the Merchant Marine is responsible for transporting cargo and passengers during peace time. In time of war, the Merchant Marine is capable of being an auxiliary to the Navy, and can be called upon to deliver troops and supplies for the military. He was so proud of his job, and the privilege to shop in the Commissary and the Navy Exchange on Guam.

My fondest memories of Tito Pete are:

1. Receiving gifts from him every time he came home (to Guam, while I was living with Tita V). 
2. His hearty laughter.
3. His calm demeanor despite being in the midst of chaos. 
4. Chivas Regal. 
5. His love of cooking. His specialty was Everything Stew. No special ingredients; just everything he could take out of the fridge. Hah!
6. His stories of adventures wherever his ship took him... Japan, Korea, the Philippines, the Mainland West Coast, Australia.
7. Budweiser. 
8. His childhood stories, especially the one about him being teacher's pet because he was her best student ever! (This was my favorite because it seemed most unlikely! Hah!)
9. His boat, on which he took Papa V and Aris on the most adventurous fishing expeditions. Once, they ran out of fuel waaaaaay out there! Thank goodness his compadre Angel happened to sail buy, and give them a tow back to shore. Accoring to Aris, Tito Pete was the living epitomy of cool ice. He never panicked! (See no. 3.)
10. His fearlessness behind the wheel of his Trooper. "Because this car is invincible", he said. In fact, one late night, on our way home from a party at the other end of the island, he plowed right into the thicket of a tangan-tangan grove as we rounded the last curve of the road back to Agat. Without so much as a jerk of the wheel, he eased the car back onto Marine Drive, and proceeded as though the off-road incident was just a sightseeing detour, and not an over-compensation maneuver for taking that curve too fast in pitch black darkness. All the passengers who were asleep didn't wake up. That's how cool and collected he was. (Again, see no. 3.)
11. His milk. (See no. 4.)
12. He drank it everyday! (See no. 7.)
13. He also loved doing laundry. More than once, he washed my basket of freshly laundered clothes twice! 
14. His sense of humor. There was a husband and wife and their young girl who lived with us for some time. The wife conducted herself as always being correct, above triviality, pious, and extensively educated. Tito Pete was in the middle of a conversation with the husband about false teeth. The wife interrupted, "You mean prosthetics," in a corrective tone. Tito Pete let out a sudden guffaw (see no. 2), managing to say between peals of laughter, "Prostitutes?!... har-har-har-har... PROSTITUTES?!... heheheheheh... Where do you get prostitutes from false teeth?... hahahahahah...You should mind your own business, and leave us alone to our conversations!" The more she corrected "I said pros-THETICS, not prostitutes," the more Tito Pete laughed. It was the most contagious laugh, because even us kids laughed about that for days!
15. He always said "Yes" when we asked to go the beach. "Just mind the cars when you cross the street."

Ah, I could go on forever! But I'll stop here because I'd like to leave a bit of mystery for the next time I write about him.

Today I paid Tito Pete a visit to bid him greetings on this Veteran's Day.

P.s. Tito Pete was indeed enlisted in the United States of America Military. 

Juice-Ko! (Dios Ko, Oh My God in Filipino)

Tonight Five-Star and I took out the juicer for the first time in almost two years. It is actually his juicer. Therefore, he offered his expertise on how to do it. Before I continue with how this juicing experience played out, let me tell you how I came to this decision to use the juicer for the first time.

My cousin-in-law, Mrs. H, has been posting on Facebook about her new approach to a healthy diet. She included pictures of the fruits and vegetables that she eats, and the juices that she concocts from the same fruits and vegetables. She always refers to her dishes and juices as a "goodness".

Mrs. H's Banana, Avocado, Kiwi, Persimon and Coconut Juice Goodness...

Photo by Mrs. H's on her FB page.

Mrs. H's Vegetable Salad Goodness...

Photo by Mrs. H's on her FB page.

Mrs. H's Pear, Cucumber, Lemon, Ginger Goodness...

 Photo by Mrs. H's on her FB page.

Before she moved to her new home, which requires a ferry ride to get there, we saw each other almost every week. Now, we see each other via the Internet. And although it's a digital representation of her, she has the healthiest glow about her in her photos! And I attribute it to her healthy diet. 

So two weeks ago I decided to try the diet – the proper food combination diet – she's been posting about on her FB page. I was on it for only two days, and already I felt grrrreat! I ate only fruits for breakfast, vegetables and protein for lunch, and starches and vegetables for dinner. Without going into details, suffice it to say that I suddenly became leery of the commercial advocation of fiber supplements, laxatives, and heartburn medications. Because only two days' worth of this diet made everything work just fine! The only part of Mrs. H's diet that I hadn't tried was juicing.

And now to this evening's interaction with Five-Star. 

"What do you have to juice?" he asked.

I took out three leaves of kale, one beet and its leaves, and a half inch piece of ginger. Thinking I didn't need a recipe, that vegetables are vegetables, and when juiced, make no difference as far as following a recipe goes.

"Oh, that isn't going to be enough!" he advised. "You need waaaaay more than that!" Sure enough, all the ingredients above yielded maybe only four ounces of juice. "What else do you have?" he asked.

I held up a cucumber.

"That'll work," he said, reaching for it. 

I wanted to peel it first.

"No, no, no!" he admonished. "This is a juicer. It juices everything, skin and all!" At that, he took the cucumber from me and shoved it into the juicer. Presto! there was suddenly enough juice to fill a coffee mug. 

And I drank it...

My husband looked at me with amusement. "Well?"

I took another gulp, thinking it would get better. Every gulp was just as bad as the first. 

"What does it taste like?" he asked between guffaws of laughter. 

Dirt...

Harharharharharharharharhar! Heheheheheheheheheh! Hohohohohohohohohoh! He laughed.

I used to take sips of the juice he used to make, and they were nowhere as foul as this stuff.

Then I realized what that bitter, dirty taste was. The cucumber peel!

Feeling a tad remorseful about laughing at me, Five-Star said apologetically "I never juiced cucumber before..."

From now on I'm following recipes!

Time Flies

Remember this?

That little baby was Sheazie Bear. He was only one and a half years old.

Fast forward three years... He's now a little boy giving his mommy kisses.

And there's a new baby... 'Cept, she's not so much a baby. Jaida Bug is two and a half years old.

My, how time flies!