A Very Sad Day

Today, my heart was broken into a million pieces...

only a mother's heart can shatter this way.

Something inside me told me to do something to memorialize this day.
Things have to change.

 

Anak na kinandong sa duyan ng puso

Balisong na madulas at matalim

Salita at padapyas na isinawsaw sa dilim

Biniyak ang mundo ko sa bawat tingin

Di mo ba naaalala ang yapos ni nanay?

O ang tunog ng meme ko sa bawa't pikit mo?

Dasal at iyak sa Bathala't langit

Sa iyo lamang anak kong marikit!

Pikit na nanay, pikit na at matulog

Wala ka nang meme, himig o luha

Ni duyan o kandungan, himala o dasal

Kapag dugo ay mapagmalaki at salawahan

Things I Learned Standing on Grass

The year 2011 has been quite unsettling for me. The challenges are more subtle but relentless. Most of its impact have been internal. The challenges and conflicts are mostly within myself caused by variables that are, after careful deliberation, very universal. The solutions and remedies required can only be self-discovered since the challenges come from within. But nevertheless, these challenges within me have been brutal. Take note that I believe it's not a coincidence that 2011 is a prime number; a number divisible only by itself. (!) Being the over-analyst that I am, I find that fact a revelation that for some reason brings me some reassurance. 

They say that the grass is always greener on the other side. Mostly this notion has taken on quite a metaphoric gravitas on the way things have lined up this year. Mostly its because the internal strife that goes on inside me begs a reboot---a cleaning up of everything and a desire to replace everything with anything different. Because anything is better than the drought that has been building throughout the year. Truly, the grass I was standing on is less verdant than the other side. Or any side for that matter. I just wanted out. There is this dominating feeling that I need to 'move on' or 'move forward' or restart. Replace the old with the new.

There have been health challenges where I wished time would fly faster so that I can recuperate and bypass the pain and discomfort of being sick. I struggled with conquering the diabetes that has threatened my life-style. We've had financial setbacks that surprised us and adjustments had to be made. There were times when fear got the best of me. I was released from doing what I loved--teaching seminary. I never thought that would impact my life so deeply. There were many other challenges that I do not care to list. But nevertheless, my poor spirit was mostly dampened by fear, insecurity, doubt and endless worries. Like I said, the challenges themselves are universal and empirically are not devastating. But for some reason, my internal workings fail to give me perspective and calm in 2011. Perhaps the biggest challenge of 2011 regarding my own health has taken a larger toll. And all I wanted was a free pass so I can move on to other things.

Once, in a conversation with my daughter, I observed that she is in fact, in a very powerful position--a very enviable position. She posited that if 'they all' only knew, they wouldn't envy her. But empirically, the fact of the matter is, she IS in an enviable position regardless. I know because I've been there many times playing all the characters in her dilemma. And she just wants to move on. But I wish she would relish the powerful position she is in for a moment. For the moment that she's in it. It's temporary...and fleeting. That gave me some perspective because I feel anxious for the year to pass because for some reason, I have this illusion that things will suddenly change when the calendar reads 2012. I need to take stock because where I stand can also be an enviable position despite what I feel or think. Empirically, I am in a good place. Always have been.

In contemplating all this, I again pondered my position and all of 2011 where in every difficulty, I wished I were 'somewhere else'' rolling in greener grass than the one I stood on. That's when I realized that my old reliable yard is totally mine. I own it. It's been here for many winters and dry summers. And many happy events when it provided soft grass for tumbling and somersaults, grilling and play and the place where 'everybody' wished they could be.

Sometimes, in the process of trying to make my grass be as green and lush as it can be, it needs help. Sometimes, you need to pile on the shit. Sometimes, the manure burns. Sometimes you need to aerate and sometimes you can trip on the holes. But in time, the grass gets green again. It's the old reliable. And I always know when it's time to fertilize. We sometimes wish for something that's different--perhaps a new adventure that can be stimulating and thrilling because the grass is greener on the other side when we're in the middle of fertilizing or when the loneliness of winter's cold burns the green out. But if I am patient, the grass I stand on will get greener than the other side. It's all in the way we stand on our grass....on our side of the fence.

Exceptions and . . . Spanish Verbs

Learning how to conjugate verbs in Spanish was difficult for me especially when I resisted learning the language of 'my oppressors' as a young, idealistic teenager growing up in Manila, Philippines. But when I received my mission call to serve in Spain (which was a welcome irony...) I resolved to learn to speak Castellano like a native-speaker. So I memorized a dozen verbs a day.

Growing up, I've always had the notion that I was exceptional. I would surmise that all people feel this way. It has to be so because we are all individuals. But I think that each one of us goes through some exceptional circumstances that require exceptional choices. How do you tackle exceptions especially when living in a culture of compliance---a culture that extols the following of rules and order? I learned the answer to this quandary by learning to conjugate Spanish verbs. And in learning to conjugate Spanish verbs, I also learned a few interesting parallels in life.

1. Most Spanish verbs follow the basic rules. But some verbs are exceptions and you must learn them.

The basic, non-threatening way to learn how to conjugate irregular verbs is by study and memorizing as many verbs as possible--regular or irregular. The more verbs you know, the better it is. Sometimes there are verbs that are regular that you can substitute for the harder, exceptional verbs. It's like casting a bigger net and it helps. Then there is also the little used art of listening. As you hear people speak, you pick up nuances and the more you hear, the more these exceptions become second-nature. So it's important to learn to engage others to speak...and share their opinions, their lives, their stories. It is enriching. And it carries very little risk to your person. Learning from listening to others is a worthy enterprise especially if you learn from articulate and beautiful speakers of the language. If you learn from the best speakers then your Spanish will also be just as beautifully spoken. And then lastly, some irregular verbs you just have to learn by stumbling. You may have memorized them but you may not always use them. And when the time comes, it may not come out right the first time because the first time you actually hear it used in real life is when you hear yourself say it. There is much risk in learning this way but learn you will. Such is life. And how it must be lived. We study, ponder and think. We learn from others by observation and meditation. And we learn from stumbling and erring.

 2. Learn the rules and the exceptions will take care of themselves.

Learning the exceptions always require an aside-- as though learning the exceptions require a detour in the normal course of the lesson. We must remain compliant until the time comes when we are faced with an event that requires a seemingly exceptional choice.

3. Even the irregular verbs follow their own rules or patterns of conjugation.

The irony behind this is that when faced with challenges, these exceptional challenges are exceptional only because they are ours. But the principles by which we withstand the winds of adversity are eternal and constant.

Adversity sometimes comes in subtle disguises. What we may think is a life free from serious adversity is in and of itself, an exceptional challenge. Sometimes we think that we want to free ourselves from the banal--the ordinary, the easy and expected because what is on the other side is more exciting. Or sometimes we become blinded by the shiny and new--the unknown journey or even the unseen dangers that may prove to be the thrill itself; when what we deem ordinary and consistently predictable is the exceptional choice that carries with it the extraordinary life that we've always longed for. Beware. Even the exceptional has rules.

4. It is interesting that the verbs of being, possession and knowing are the irregular verbs that require exceptions to the rules of conjugation.

To be, to have, to know---these are the verbs of exception. And yet these are also the verbs that we invariably use in just about every concept and thought. It is inevitable that we use them. And yet, they are the ones that we have to learn to conjugate outside the rules. And the ones that defy the rules. I find that intriguing--especially when whatever principle of intelligence (to know) we attain in this life is what will determine what we become and what we will have. (D&C 130:18)

All things follow their just order. And in order to become exceptional people, we must remain steadfast and true to the principles that are constant and true. The exception actually comes from living the rules.

Mind over heart : Calculating risks.

Confucius supposedly once said that "by three methods we may learn wisdom: first by reflection, which is noblest; second by imitation, which is easiest; and third, by experience, which is hardest."

This morning, as I reflected on years past and the significance of the day, I remembered some of the dangerous risks I had taken as a young woman. At one time, I was 21 years old, a student at BYU-Hawaii and inlove with a wonderful young man who was not LDS. In my mind, he was the most amazing person and he had asked me to marry him. My father had flown from Manila to attend April conference in Salt Lake City and stopped over in Hawaii to visit me. It was not a pleasant visit. My father was very upset about my apparently serious relationship with Tom and had told me that "I was dead to him." But my father could not remain upset. We made up after my boyfriend insisted that he drive me to the airport to see him off. We took pictures of that afternoon. My eyes were clearly swollen from crying. It was a very difficult time. But it would take a lot of pondering, weighing, vacillation, grief and confusion before I would have the courage to get myself out of the dangerous risk I had begun to play with.

I am usually not a pragmatic person though I'd like to think that I am. I am often so full of emotion, drama and passion....and opinions that I whole-heartedly believed in. I believed that to attain happiness, one must follow the heart. It sounded good. But I always knew it was a formula for walking into a tempest of difficulties. The heart is a poor judge and often impedes clarity. The mind is a more powerful judge for it can sort through the variables and calculate risks. And it was always wise to weigh things carefully. These principles would run through my mind as my father, with great frustration coupled with fear, would yell at me and tell me that marrying this 'non-member' is a huge mistake. That I deserved better. My response would be defiance. But only in my head. I thought that he had no idea how wonderful my boyfriend was. That one day, he would accept the gospel and be baptized. That if I were faithful and stayed true to the church that the Lord would grant me all the desires of my heart. That he was a wonderful person and surely the Lord would one day soften his heart. That if I lived my life as a true example, he would follow. Most of all, the biggest defiant question raced through my head: how do they know? They have no idea.

Calculate your risks. Empirically. Clinically. So I asked myself that question: what am I risking? What do I really know? And what if what I know does not match what I feel? What if I would be missing out on other possibilities regardless of the risks? Surely the heart does not lie!

Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God? (D&C 6:22-23)

I find it inspirational that instead of "feel" we would KNOW concerning the truth. And that instead of "heart", the Lord speaks peace to our MIND. 

In D&C 9:8, the Lord also tells us that we must first study in our MINDS before we ask him if 'it be right". And in D&C 8:2, the Lord tells us that he will tell us first in our MIND and then our hearts the things that are true. 

In calculating the risks at hand, it was apparent to me in my mind that the possibility that I may have to raise my children outside my religion was much too high a price to risk. I knew it. But inside me, my heart told a different story. My heart tells me to have faith and to believe in the possibility that he may convert--that the risk of losing him was too great. Obviously, I chose to break off the engagement but it was a battle to do so. I thought at one instance that death was a better option than to have to struggle and pass through this hardship. Such drama. And oh boy am I glad that I had enough strength to stick to what I KNEW and not give in to what I felt. It took quite a long time for my emotions to equal what I knew and even now, over 30 years later, I am still reeling from the close call of that time. I think that is the faith that is required of us---to be able to wait for things to equalize because the repercussions of a wise decision can be far-reaching and what will allow us to wait for confirmation is precisely what is spoken of in the scriptures in vast quantity--faith itself. I think that is why the Lord enjoins us to 'cast your MIND upon that night' as in D&C 6:23. And once we KNOW, we must DO. Not after we have done as we know will the true impact be realized. That is the trial of our faith....that is when our minds will equal what we feel in our heart. Just because in the scriptures we are told that the Lord will tell us in our mind first, and then in our heart next, doesn't mean that that will happen immediately. Sometimes, it takes time. And in the interim, we simply cannot doubt what we know.

My mother once woke me up in the middle of the night just because she wanted to tell me that she had a dream and was jolted by it. In her dream, our family was crossing a wide ocean. And upon crossing over, she looked around and could not find me.....that I had been left behind. She pleaded with me to reconsider going to BYU-Hawaii. She told me that I needed to go to this Mormon college because I needed to learn "how to be Mormon" and to grow spiritually. I was defiant again because I loved where I was and did not want to go to a small college 'in the boonies' of Hawaii. But I went and my life has changed for the better. I owe my mother the wonderful life I now live. And to this day, though I FEEL that going to BYU-Hawaii did nothing for my academic career because I was FEELING defiant about being there, I KNOW that it was nevertheless the best thing I ever did because I KNEW my mother was right though at the time, I FELT defiant about staying with my university, my sorority, my friends and my then boyfriend.

Now that I have children of my own, I appreciate all that my mother has taught me. And I can appreciate how right she was because all she prayed for, all she desired, all she dreamed about was a better life for me. I try to pass on these same principles to my children. My mother had the uncanny ability to see things 'far off'. Sometimes it surprised me that she could predict how things will go. But she always just told me that it was just mere calculation. I understand what she means. As I reflect on my life, I do realize that because of my time spent here on earth, I can see 'variables' that my children cannot see. And if this ability is genetic, then I can safely say that I owe it to my mother.

My mother cannot remember things anymore. But I remember them for her. And I hope that my children will remember too and pass them on. I know it. And I also feel it.

Turning 56

I never thought I would turn 56. And I still can't believe that I am aging. My neck is starting to waddle like a turkey and I have troublesome wrinkles on my forehead. My hands are no longer soft and smooth. Worse, they are no longer dexter. I now use reading glasses and I see whites on the roots of my hair.

I still feel like my fingers can still wrap around the old familiar guitar neck and play some music that can silence a room or make people look. I still feel like I can duplicate some good guitar licks and strums that I hear on the radio or cassette tapes. But when I pick up my guitar, my fingers freeze and my once dependable muscle memory escapes me. So I put the guitar down with sad resignation. The other night, I watched some young teenagers rehearse for a song that they were going to perform at a ward party. Two of them were playing the guitar and couldn't find the proper chords to a part of the song. I asked them if they wanted some help with the chords and they just ignored me as though I didn't know anything. I get it. What would a 55 year old woman know about playing the guitar. But they don't know how good I was. They don't know that I've traveled to many countries because of how good I played. They don't know of adventures I've experienced because of my musical talents. They don't know that I've done concerts, television shows, tours, stage shows. They don't know that I can play the chords to any song I can sing just by listening.

At times I feel like my children don't realize how much I understand them--that my reactions are sometimes aimed at my own experiences being replayed with them playing my role. At times I react out of frustration as I am seized with the realization that my warnings and counsels are not enough to save them from the consequences of their actions or choices. That although I see things with clarity because I've been on that road, I cannot articulate why its important to heed my warning when they can't see what I see. And even when they can understand what I'm saying because they are smarter than I ever was at their age, some thing inside me also tells me that learning experientially from their own errors can be more important than eluding them. So I have to watch them learn experientially....and painful as that may be, it is sometimes necessary. Little do they know that I've passed through the same road. I've loved and been inlove. I've had heartaches such that I couldn't see past the darkness. I've felt loneliness and also exuberance, passion and the thrill of taking risks. At one time I've also felt invincible, untouchable...immortal. And now, as I turn 56, I still want to feel exuberant. But the burdens of responsibility, decorum and expectations are heavy as I age. Perhaps its cellular. Or just what 'old' means.

I sometimes wonder if there is still something in my old bag of tricks that can dazzle like I used to be able to do. I can still hear music in my ears. I can still create. I can still keep up with technology. My mind is still sharp. But at times I catch a glimpse of my image in the mirror at night or in the early mornings and I see an older woman. Her image does not match how I see myself.

I still long for romantic nights, to be held tight, to be taken care of. And I still like to hold hands with my best friend and companion. And I still like to use the private language and secret signs that we playfully created as a young couple inlove.

But oh well. I am blessed with good genes. My mother still looks good at 80. So maybe, just maybe, I can still die 'young'.

Of iPhones and Memories

My husband's iPhone was stolen 5 weeks ago. It was quite an event for him and though it was only a cell phone, it affected a lot of his daily life:

Me: Kurt, do you have my sister's address?
Kurt: Oh shoot! No! It was in my iphone!

Kurt: Christie! Can you find the email list for my YM program?
Me: Don't you have that list? I don't even know where to begin to find them!
Kurt: Well.....it was in my iphone.

Well...you get the picture. But because he is still under contract with AT&T, he will have to pay the full price for a replacement. Or he can wait until Nov 1 when his contract ends and he can get a new iPhone for less money. So for 6 weeks, he has been using a very small cellphone that cost him $19.95. It cannot email nor access the internet. But it can make and receive calls and texts. It does not have any memory to function more than that and other simple calculations.

My mother suffered a heart attack exactly a week ago. The repercussions have been devastating. She woke up in a highly confused state, not knowing her name, what happened or the date. I am having a difficult time sorting out how this happened and I find that I am woefully ill-prepared to handle these changes. She seems to be going in and out of memory. She turns 80 in a few weeks and was in good health and now...snap!--her life has changed. And so have ours. Her memory is severely compromised and now she will have to  learn to build a new life...become a new person.

Memory is such a vital part of one's life and balance. I can't help but see a correlation between Kurt's iphone loss and my mom's loss of memory. Kurt will have to input new data that will aid him in making his work easier. Much pertinent information will be stored in his new  iphone and he will  rely on it because this small contraption can hold enormous amounts of it. But my mom will have to find a way to make the quality of her life as satisfactory as her memory will permit.

Forgetting is such a debilitating and paralyzing enterprise. There is a reason why we are enjoined to remember the past; to remember the lessons wrought by our challenges, trials and errors. And forgetting can also be merciful as we forget the things that hurt us, enslave us or weaken our resolve to do better.

It's been such a challenge to pass through Gethsemane again....to see my mother lose her functions. But in time, I hope to forget the pain and remember only the good that has come from being her daughter.

Pheasant... peasant...feesunt...

Can you believe??

Am reposting this story:


So last Saturday, an old friend suddenly calls late at night.  She wants to drop by to see my house. Of course, I'm very excited to see her! So she let me talk to the owner of the house they were staying at and I find out that she is only a 10 minute drive from me. GREAT! So I try to give this friend of hers some directions. Here's a little excerpt of our conversation.

Her: Heel-loh. Yees. Wir ees yur hawes?

Me: It's on Pecos and Warm Springs. I'm so close to you.

Her: Ay. Pee-koos. Yah. Yah. Yah. And warm eespreengs. So, ip I goo oon PEEKOOS, wir ees ur hawse? What ees ur ahd-drees?

Me: It's Pheasant Ridge Drive.

Her: Ay. Pee-sant?

Me: (pause) Pheasant. P as in Paul, H as in Harry. Pheasant like....the bird. Ibon baga.

Her: Ah yah. Pee-sant Ridge?

Me: Hindi. (I aspirate my "ph" to distinguish between pheasant and peasant) PHEASANT RIDGE DRIVE. As in, the "bird", you know, pheasant. NOT 'peasant'. (I did not know how else to explain this....so I tried to spell it again....) P as in Philippines, H as in Heavenly.

Her: Oo. Yah. Cree-sent Ridge.

Me: No, not Crescent Ridge, PHEASANT RIDGE. (I am getting annoyed.)

Her: Oo. Pee-sant. Sige. Wee weel paynd it.

Me: (Exasperated) Just tell them to call me when they're in the area. I am only a 10 minute drive. Tatlo o apat na liko lang. (Only 3 or 4 turns.)

 

************ONE HOUR LATER***********

My cell phone rings. It's my friend. They are on their way to the adjacent city---another city outside the city where I live. I am exhausted. It's late. And I have a deadline to meet.  I quickly give them more directions and ask them to call me when they are in the vicinity... They call again. They are now  just a street away so I stay on the phone until they find the main street that leads to my house. They are now at the gate. I ask her to hang up her cell phone and call my house on the gate phone so I can buzz the gate open. I wait 10 minutes. I am now alarmed. It does not take that long to ring my house from the gate. The gate phone is just a simple phone! Finally, the phone rings and my daughter buzzes the gate open and I run out the driveway to meet them. They dismiss my instructions and drive straight through instead of turning left where my house is. I see their car driving straight through. Now they will have to drive the loop around. I wait for the car to make the loop. They finally see me. They arrive. I am exhausted. After greeting them, the driver tells me that there must be TWO gates. I say, no, there is only ONE gate and I point to the gate. I am only three houses down from the gate. He looks absolutely perplexed.

Him: No. That's not the gate where we came from.

Me: It most certainly is!

Him: Noooo. That's not the gate we came from. We came in through the other gate.

Me: Believe me---THAT'S the gate you came from.

Him: (looking confused and pointing towards the direction they came from...) But we came from that direction. Isn't there a second gate that way?

Me: No. You made a complete loop around. (I point again to the gate they came in from....) That is the ONLY gate. That's the gate you entered.

Him: Ah.....I thought there were two gates.

Me: (speechless now....)

I decide that the conversation is not going anywhere so I leave it at that. I am dumbfounded.

I asked them what the confusion was. They said that they tried to google my address. They claim that the direction they got was completely different from mine. So they tried to type it again and each time got ANOTHER set of directions. They claim that my street is probably not on the map yet. I am incredulous. I am now really annoyed. I tell them that of course, my street is on the map! I ask them what street they typed on the search line. Oh yeah: CRESCENT Ridge Drive.

U.P. High graduates. Good grief.

Lucy's first dance recital

Things I lost in the move

 

As the years roll by and my hair has begun to turn white, I sometimes find myself lost in thought. I have lived in this, my adopted country for more than I've lived in my home country. I left the Philippines merely two weeks after my 19th year. I had never before flown in an airplane and that first time I did, I dressed up as most people during those days did. I wore a printed blue dress with a bow around my neck and a pair of white platform sandals. It was 1975 and the song "Leaving On A Jet Plane" was constantly being played in my house. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young were hot. And everybody wanted to play the guitar like James Taylor...including me. We stopped to refuel and pick up more passengers in Guam before my final destination: Honolulu, Hawaii. I threw up several times from airsickness and my ears wouldn't pop. I didn't even know they were supposed to or that I could pop them by merely yawning or blowing air while I pinched my nose and closed my mouth. I just felt dizzy and disoriented. And sick.

I did not know what to expect once I'd landed. I had no idea what 'customs' was about or where I could find my luggage. Or if somebody from the university was going to pick me up. But things worked out fine and I found my place.

I found my place. Here I am over 36 years later and I've found my place. Yet, I cannot shake the feeling that I don't belong here and I yearn for that place where it all began just to walk the familiar roads, smell the sweet fragrances that I remember, speak that beautiful language of my youth and soothe myself with that familiar feeling of being "home". I can go back a dozen times but my "home" no longer exists. It is all different now. I am so much different now. And I find that that place I yearn to be exists only in some distant memory. So my heart sinks...searching...pining...longing for something that doesn't exist nor can be recreated. Crestfallen, I quietly weep inside me.

My children, who are only half Filipino, do not speak my language nor were exposed to my culture enough that they can relate to that half of their identities. But this is the result of deliberate choices that I made early on, the reasons being known only to myself. I made these decisions knowingly and with much thought. The reasons are important to me. But I paid a steep price.

So, as I see my grandchildren...all white skin and blue eyes with nary a trace of being a quarter Asian, I ponder and look back to make an assessment of the things I lost in the move... and only I know what they are.

Now, everything I hold dear is in me and so I now realize with exquisite clarity what I need to preserve for the generations to come because what I have is unique and priceless. The generations that follow me will not look like me nor will they understand what I miss when I am alone in my thoughts. I am their Filipino ancestor. I am a pioneer. I bring with me the pride of the Malay race, the strength of the Filipino warrior, the sweet music unique to my people, the resilience that comes from living in a place where the cadence of life is languid and the warmth of the air is sultry. I come from a land where the winds can be sinister, the rains can be relentless...where mountains are active and fire flows under the sea. I come from raw beauty... with mountains home to familiar ghosts and strange creatures and endless terraces carved along their slopes.  I come from an archipelago of 7,000 islands and a hundred different languages and dialects. Our statures may be small but our movements and aim are accurate. I come from a long generation of artists and mathematicians, scientists and teachers. I come from brilliance. In my veins flow the gracefulness of the Balangsatan and zarzuela poets and actors, musicians and singers. Languages and eloquence flow freely from my predecessors who speak at least two languages or multiple dialects. And my people move with fluid grace...easily but accurately relaying distinct emotions of love, friendship and solidarity. These are the people of the country of my birth....the place that exists only past the veil of time-- the things that I thought I lost when I moved. I realize...I never lost them. I am the reservoir of all these wonderful gifts. I carry them in my hands. I am a Filipino and I did not lose all that make me what I am when I moved. I pray that my children will find them, cherish them, be proud and pass them on.

"Billy, put down that phylactery, we're Episcopalians!"

I had the supreme pleasure a few years ago, of watching a wonderful Broadway play by Yasmin Reza called "Art" which starred Alan Alda and Victor Garber. I enjoyed the dialogue so much that I remember thinking...whoa--it would be great to hear dialogue like that in real life! I love beautifully spoken sentences. And I love beautifully constructed sentences! I used to collect sentences when I was in high school. 

The English language is so beautiful and I tend to be a purist. I like using "dove" instead of "dived". And I love it when the word "lie" is used properly to mean "lie down" as in "to lie down and sleep" instead of the common error that most Americans say, "I'm going to lay down here". And lately, I've been hearing people say "shined" instead of "shone". I am afraid that that might evolve into acceptable language and I'm already aghast thinking of that possibility.

I am mortified when I see the words "should of been" in written English. What exactly does that mean? Should of been? South of been? North of should? Should of New York City? I mean, come on! I should HAVE been more tolerant. But "should of been" does not make any lick of sense and anyone who understands grammar would know that "should have been" is the correct phrase. After all, it's part of the past passive modal tense--specifically the past passive form which is composed of the modal + have been + participle, i.e. "You should have been taught this rule in third grade--what's wrong with your teacher?"

These days I also hear a lot of people using 'a' and 'an' improperly. "I want a apple." I hear this and it's like someone scratching on the blackboard with their nails. I mean, honestly.

How about this: the violent murder of the phrase "in lieu of", from the French "in place of" which means, "instead of." I've heard people say: In lieu of the time, we will dispense with the closing hymn. And I cringe. I cringe like a miserable, constipated old cow. This is tantamount to saying "Instead of the time, we will do this..." And what exactly does that mean? Just picture me with a face like this:   :0

English elegantly spoken is just beautiful. I wish I could be more articulate and eloquent. But I least I don't say, "I should of known that" or "I wish she shined more light on me."

I know there are still many, who like me, appreciate the English language. Oh I do enjoy speaking the dialect of the region. I love speaking Pidgin English in Hawaii. And I like to pretend to use phrases like "fixin' to do that" or "mo bettah we live in Las Vegas". But elegantly written English is a wonder to behold. And English elegantly spoken is like music to my ears. And it just tells me that the person I heard speaking beautiful language has to be, in all certainly and most indubitably be educated and intelligent. And I can thus listen and be inspired. Or listen and be enriched.

It wasn't about the looks

The pictures above tell a story. The first photo was taken in June of 2010. I weighed about 172 lbs. When I saw this photo, I was taken aback because of how terrible I looked. First of all, my eyes were not clear. In fact, they were yellow and red. My face looked inflamed. My colour was bad...like the light in my face was dim. I noticed a few things about my health during this time. I had constant pains in my lower left flank. I thought that perhaps that I had something wrong with my kidneys. I remember spending a weekend at my friend's house in Danville, CA and going to the bathroom every half hour. I thought that was strange. But I was also often thirsty so I drank constantly. I also noticed that my thinking seemed muddy and my eyesight was failing. Nevertheless, I didn't want to address these symptoms because I was afraid...and in denial. 

Weeks later, I would be hospitalized for five days and diagnosed with diabetes with very high A1C levels meaning I had a high percentage of glucose attached to my red blood cells....so high that my doctor put me in the hospital to prevent diabetic ketoacidosis. Then I had to learn to give myself Lantus--insulin shots on my belly and thighs every night. It was the scariest, most traumatic experience of my life in terms of my health. I felt like my body betrayed me.

I've now lost over 20 pounds and have been taken off insulin. All my readings are now well controlled. And I am 15 lbs away from my realistic weight goal of 135. But I had no idea that these changes I've made would be difficult and fraught with huge challenges. 

I was paralyzed by the reactions of some of my friends who thought that I am now obsessed with my looks...that I've been submitting to some cosmetic procedures...that I'm being hoodwinked by doctors...that I have a poor body image...that I've turned into a shallow person....that I'm an idiot. There have been comments made behind my back. 

I have to admit that losing weight has been liberating. It made me feel empowered that I can wear clothes that I couldn't wear before. And the excitement about clothes that I couldn't wear before is intoxicating. I seriously enjoyed shopping and seeing how good the clothes hang on me. Is this self-indulgent? Is this arrogant and self-centered behaviour? Honestly, I don't have time to analyze my joy because..well, it's a natural consequence of the hard work involved in getting healthy! Who analyzes excitement anyway?

What really is throwing me for a loop is all the old emotions that have risen to the surface. How I wince when I get 'looks' from people. The obvious reaction of some friends who somehow feel threatened or think I've changed. I mean, I hope I HAVE changed. For the better! Am I not allowed to do that?

Being fat was less complicated. No one felt threatened. And more people felt superior. I found this to be simple. I mean, I can be intimidating because I'm smart. And I have some talent. But to be fat gives others permission to feel superior. 

Or being fat was also very comforting for me. I didn't have to deal. With my traumatic history of abuse and victimization, being fat meant that no one can have carnal thoughts about me...like when I was young. But now losing all that weight is confusing especially when I receive compliments. It's scary to me. So I tell myself that realistically, I am no longer nubile---far from it---at 55 years old. I am now a grandma. But feelings still rise to the surface and I feel panic rising despite logic and reality.

It's all too complicated. All I wanted was to lower my A1C so I don't have to take insulin and get my blood pressure in control. And now I feel like sabotaging everything. FAT WAS SO MUCH EASIER. But I want to live. And live well. God help me.

Complaining Frenzy

I think I am having a bad day. My incision hurts, my skin feels so tight, the area around the middle of my incision is just plan numb it feels weird and I still have some swelling--hardness under the skin. It feels like I'm wearing a very tight pair of pants and I need to take them off so I can breathe and be comfortable. So I take off my pants and....nothing. I realize it's my skin. Ugh.

I am so annoyed. And I'm annoyed that my expensive Anthropologie skirts and jeans don't fit. Ok, I know I should be happy that I've lost all that weight and instead of wearing a size 12, I can wear an 8. I KNOW that. I am happy dang it. But I'm also not. I can't wear pants coz I'm shaped like a cone cylinder and everything falls. And I feel fat for some reason. Fatter. FATTER in fact. And I don't know what looks good on me. And I feel like part of me has died. I feel...not me. I feel terrible.

For the past week, I've been awake all night mostly with racing thoughts and new projects threatening to have me obsess over them. I've even had the strangest compulsion to play my guitar. I haven't played my guitar in DECADES. I tried to play it and....my fingers wouldn't do what they used to do. Spaz. I am aghast.

So I am writing this because I need to vent. And I don't know why. I feel like crying but I don't know why...and even if I wanted to, I can't anyway because my mind disconnects. Am I going crazy???

Secrets revealed!

So I get a lot of compliments lately about looking younger and fresher and I've been asked again and again what my secret is. So I am going to list down what I've been doing for the past couple of years that have made a difference.

1. Sleep on your back.

     I found that sleeping on my back prevents my face from being scrunched up if I sleep on either side. If sleeping on your back is not an option, use Frownie and Winkies.

2. Drink at least 64 ounces of water.

      Drinking at least 8 glasses of water helps. I can tell when I didn't do that bec the day after my face is inflamed and swollen from water retention. It gets more and more obvious as I age so I try to drink 2 16oz bottles of water by noon and then I have the rest of the day to consume 2 or more easily.

3. Lose weight SLOWLY so skin retracts. I lost over 20 lbs over a 2 year span.

4. Now for a list of cosmetics I use to apply make-up, here's a list of products that I love:

MAC cosmetics: Fluidliner in Blacktrack. Iridescent Loose Powder in Golden Bronze (cheeks) and Silver Dusk (highlights). Cream Colour Base in "Pearl" (highlights), Eye Shadow in "Carbon" and various others.

Urban Decay Deluxe Eyeshadow in "Ransom" (Best violet colour)

Coverblend by Exuviance concealer in "Light". Doesn't crease. Lasts a long time.

Christian Dior "Universal Brow" brow pencil. Best product for eyebrows.

Bare Escentuals mineral foundation in "medium beige".

This is my favorite lipstick: Max Factor lipfinity No. 550. I think this has been discontinued.

I also use Model 21 lashes. You can buy them here. I never leave home without my lashes since I have so very little of my own. I use Duo eyelash glue. They are the best. There is a science into putting these on. I've been using false lashes since I was 17 so that's over 35 years of experimenting! I also like Ardell lashes which are available at most drugstores like Walgreens or at Ulta.

Blending all these products on your face requires some good quality brushes. I get mine here.  I also have some from Sephora. But the best place to get cosmetic brushes for proper application is here. Remember-- you must use the proper tools to get the maximum effects of your make-up.

I cannot stress enough how important skin care is and also the care and maintenance of TEETH. Yellow and malocclusion of teeth really ages you. So take the time for good dental care.

That's about all I can think of right now.

Why I Keep On Trying

So I finished digitizing nearly 2,000 slides...some of them ancient, from 1952. Most are faded and in varying degrees of degradation. I don't even know why I volunteered to take on this monstrous task. Perhaps there is a little part of me that craves some measure of appreciation though intellectually, I know that that will not happen because one thing that has been constant in over 20 years of dealing with Kurt's family is that if there is something I can do or excel at, there will be some way someone will turn things around so it becomes somehow a bad thing if not totally and deliberately ignored, sabotaged and dismissed. It's like the so-called crab mentality--when crabs are in an open container, no one needs to worry about any of them escaping because they grab at each other, pulling each other down until all are boiled alive. The sad part is that I never really craved any acceptance or appreciation in the beginning because I always thought I had them in spades. Yet somehow, as his little sisters grew, this crab-mentality phenomenon somehow was fostered and as others joined the family, they even added to the momentum. 

In the beginning, I felt so blessed and fortunate that I was now part of a wonderful family with little sisters I could spoil and love to boot! But as time passed, I felt more and more diminished--realizing that there was a short-sighted, non-constructive mentality that began to prevail. It happened slowly but surely and I was left haplessly being swallowed in it. I became ironically, the favorite subject of gossip and scorn that unified the core members of the family until we reached the point where no one can figure out how to fix things. It just crept up so slowly but the grasp ever so tight.

I feel very sad about this. And so I keep on trying even when it has become acutely apparent to me that things have escalated to the point where the chasm is now so wide and seemingly irreparable rendering my efforts frustratingly small because my options have narrowed. 

And yet, I've learned so much from these bitter experiences--lessons that I've tried to apply to my own family. Building a legacy of love and acceptance requires hard work and a whole lot of eating crow. When you think you can rest on your laurels and enjoy the fruits of your labours is really the time when you have to be at your most vigilant! As a mother, now with daughters-in-law and grandchildren, it's even more important to be self-aware. Family dynamics change all the time. That is the hope. It HAS to. So I find that I need to change also. In fact, it is IMPERATIVE that I change. And change is difficult. Falling in love with your daughters-in-law may happen in the beginning. But to maintain that love takes work. And I find that there is much for me to improve and I see it so clearly. Many times I fail so miserably. And yet I so appreciate that as I evaluate myself, there is always the promise of tomorrow as I pray to God that I can have another chance to redeem myself and get better. Even more importantly, I appreciate that the Spirit can and does call my attention to my follies and I can see them so clearly.... and as I receive personal revelation regarding how to improve, I find that I am always taken aback because what I am supposed to do to fix my mistake is ALWAYS the opposite of who I thought I was. In other words, why would I have to be given instructions to act differently if I were already acting accordingly, right? Thus, the required improvement is always, always a challenge because it is counter-intuitive-- it requires CHANGE. It requires a DIFFERENT you. So I am grateful for every day that I can change because many times, I am so sloooow. So I have to keep on praying that my family will be patient with me and forgive me.

I also find that when we resist these calls to change, our minds become dull and resistant. We become defensive because we don't want to change! And our family suffers. Discord ensues and in our ego-centric, defensive ways, we concentrate more on our own hurt and pain rather than becoming productive and increasing forethought or the ability to 'see far-off'. We begin to become short-sighted and resistant to change even if we know it's imperative to change. After all, the battle begins in your head because action has to come from an idea. And that is where the failure often happens--the inability to take action because we resist what is being impressed upon us. And as we get better at resisting, we advance to total rejection of that impression from the Spirit until we become addicted to bitterness. And drama.

So. Why do I keep on trying? Because I have to. Because I can see in my mind's eye the kind of family I want to have. Family is a dynamic, reverberating, intriguing and wonderful unit. It is where we can become better people. It is where we can receive more light and knowledge. It HAS to because it is the basic unit in God's kingdom. Our eternal lives depend on it. Generations depend on it. We are linked back and front and even sideways. I look forward to every new day when I can be better at it. And I hope I will have many, many days. I surely need them.

Antidotes: Just another poison?

Alice Faux: Yes, she is a quarter Asian and my 3rd grandchild.

I was at a Filipino restaurant getting some take-out lunch for Kurt when a nice, old man (probably close to my age...) smiled at me and for some reason, made a comment about the quantity of the food on his plate and how bad it was for his diabetes. I responded that perhaps he can eat just a little rice instead of the heap that Asians are wont to consume. He smiled again and said in his mellow Filipino accent that it was alright to binge because he "takes insulin". I nodded and said "that's great!". 

That's great?? I suddenly realized the scope of his statement. Oh go ahead. Take that poison with gusto...then ingest the antidote later. Does that make sense? I chuckled to myself and realized that I would have not caught that because that is exactly how I live my life---taking the poison because there's an antidote.

On another note, Alice, our third grandchild, was given a name and a blessing last Sunday. It was a grand day! Some of Catherine's family came---her dad, brother and sisters. They are such a wonderful family and I enjoyed their company a lot---especially on Sunday afternoon when I wasn't tired and sleepy and more alive than Saturday night.  I made just a simple meal of sloppy Joe's on whole wheat buns, my famous potato/beet salad, my pasta salad, chips and dip....some ice cream and red velvet cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory thanks to Stan Green! Yummy! Below is a photo of the event:

Hannah showing off her ninja skills. She and Tascha flew down from BYU.

Tascha and her winning smile!

I learned a lot during this weekend. I had been reading in D&C 93 about truth and light and the condescension of Christ. Many things were revealed to me about my relationship to the Saviour. So my heart was very tender. 

Towards the last verses of this section, there is a warning to parents on the importance of teaching their children truth. I take that charge very, very seriously even now when my children are grown. It is so very important that I live my life in such a way that inspires, elevates and enriches. The way to do that is to always love them. You would think that loving your children is easy because...well, they are flesh of your flesh. Feeling that you love them is easy but acting upon those feelings is another challenge. Feeling a whole lot of love doesn't necessarily expunge bad habits or bad behaviour. But love is a verb so how we love, behave and exemplify love is a choice that we make. And sometimes those choices can be difficult. But one thing that's reliable is the fact that when we act responsibly, the quality of our lives and relationships improve beyond our expectations. But love and work have to exist on the same breath.

Extending love is necessary to have joy in one's posterity and that includes loving their spouses. In my case that is an easy thing to do because my sons married amazing women who are easy to love. But then again....I can feel that love but I need to also act upon it. I need to follow the Spirit and be sensitive to their needs and feelings. It is not an easy thing to integrate into a new family. It takes work....and that work continues every single day...just like a marriage. If there is any fissure at all in the relationships it is my responsibility to use my mantle as "mother" to take the steps necessary to gather them close to me, love them, reassure them and accept them---all the time making sure that they KNOW it. Sometimes those steps are difficult and seemingly beyond my capability. But it is amazing how all I have to do is desire it, want it and then attempt to take that very first step...and then God does the rest. It is as if the windows of heaven just open and I become that person who can do it even when I didn't think I could. There is great power there. What I cannot understand is how any mother can allow dysfunction to grow especially when she is already cognizant of the cause. Sometimes we latch on to excuses, blaming this and that and finding fault when the real solution is to change ourselves.  And sometimes we let fear or the lack of faith take over and we concentrate on our own hurt and then build a wall around us ---a sort of hardening of our hearts like the uncircumcised heart mentioned in the scriptures. What's worse is when we feel tenderness but harden our hearts anyway because we get too caught up with our own pain not realizing that the release from that pain or hurt is to give in to that Spirit that tugs at your heart with tenderness. In time, we become too calloused to take any steps and then suddenly we realize that we've missed out on so much joy.

I learned this from experience and I don't ever want to have so much pride that I become unwilling or scared to do what is right and to bridge the gap. I can see me being that way and that scares me. I just have to be vigilant like the scriptures beckon us to be in those passages in section 93.

We also had the great occasion to visit my mother, my sister and my aunts in SoCal. Amazing! I just LOVE my aunts. They are so so amazing. And my mother still looks fabulous at 79! My Aunt Edith is 81 and moves and looks decades younger. So does my Aunt Nieva who is still gorgeous, fun and relatable at 75. You can just feel their intelligence in the room and I had such a great time with them. I love it that they don't talk bad about other family members or other people like my experience with my husband's family. So it's always positive and enriching to be with them and I went home happy and excited to plan another time when we can see them as soon as possible.

Mama, Aunti Edith, Auntie Nieva, and me.

I once mentioned that I usually take a xanax whenever we embarked on a visit to my husband's family. And that incident at the restaurant gave me pause about that fact. I guess that there are things that just are and so we need an antidote...just like my diabetes. It will always lurk in my body and I will always have to take some medication to calm the sugar that sticks to my red blood cells and in turn creates a toxic environment in my body. Diabetes destroys vital organs and wreaks havoc in our system. So I am happy that there is an antidote. And I am also grateful that I know how to put diabetes in a place where it can't cause much damage. Sometimes, that's all you can do.

Capping the Year 2010: We Are family!!

We had so much fun making this video! Thanks to Jordan who organized it and enthused everyone to join in. I've been wanting to do this for YEARS and he finally got it initiated. Because blogspot limits the size of the video file, the movie quality is much compromised. But I am sending the DVDs to friends and family.

I love that our family is close and enjoy each other's company. My sons married wonderful choice women who make life easy and joyful for me---as their mom-in-law. I so enjoy them and feel like they are true family. Personally, I've been so blessed. That's indubitable and my sons are amazing men who treat their wives with tenderness and thought.

My wonderful daughters are also simply amazing. They are who I want to be when I grow up. The young men who will marry them better have a good idea that they are the catch of the century. They are elegant thinkers and do much good work. They are kind, loving and tender. And as if being highly intelligent and kind weren't enough, they are both gorgeous creatures. 

So--enjoy this little piece. I had the best time editing the many videos we took. I thought it would be a feat to synch them but it was easy as pie. Maybe it's because I was just having the time of my time!

 ************

Adventures in Macaronnage

Of course I have to make like I'm some kind of snot. I'm thinking in French!

J'ai toujours vu que pour réussir dans le monde, il fallait avoir l'air fou et être sage.

I've been enthralled since I had Parisian macarons at the historic Oscar's at the Waldorf Hotel. I've searched for recipes even when I didn't know what they were even called. I happened to find these delectable confections again while walking around mid-town Manhattan, San Francisco and yeah---even Ala Moana Mall in Honolulu! The unfortunate part is that I didn't even make the connection that these lovely cookies were French and so I missed out on macaron splurges whilst traipsing around Paris! So this holiday season, I decided that I must try and perfect making these lovely concoctions. 

I quickly discovered that there are a host of things that could go wrong in achieving macaron perfection. Humidity is but one. But most of all, the actual macaronnage---the art of mixing the egg whites with the almond flour and sugar until that perfect juncture--that point when the planets and moons align---that perfect juxtaposition of  enough whipped air, egg white consistency and magical balance of all things good is reached. One more fold of the spatula and the macarons fail. One less whip and you end up with a sorry mess in the oven. Or try making the batter on a humid, rainy day...you get moosh. Just a dozen things can go wrong. But I am undaunted. Below is a photo of what they should look like:

So, I decided that on my maiden voyage into this unknown territory, I should start with gusto and make chocolate macarons with hazelnut filling.

I started out with 3 egg whites, adding 5 tbs of super fine granulated sugar.

I just whipped the darn thing until it forms a beak....like a bird's beak or bec d'oiseau in French.

Meanwhile, prior to even messing with the egg whites, I've already processed some skinless, blanched almonds on my Cuisinart to a fine meal and then did it again with confectioner's sugar and Dutched-processed chocolate to blend all dry ingredients together.

Then, with a rubber spatula, I began the task of macaronnage--blending the egg whites with the dry ingredients until it reached that peak. Or what I thought was the right moment. Below is the point where I am about to blend dry ingredients with the egg white batter.

It's a good idea to prepare your bag and tip beforehand and place them in a tall glass or pitcher making sure that you clip the end so the batter does not leak out of the tip.

Then you are ready to pipe the batter onto prepared cookie sheets. I had already lined them with parchment paper and even made 1 inch circles so I can pipe them neatly. Remember to turn the paper upside down so you don't pipe the batter onto the pencil marks. Note that my piping skills were BAD considering I used to decorate cakes! The thing is, I did not expect the batter to be so runny....that took me by surprise. So my circles were not even....or perfectly round.

I let these puppies 'dry' for about 30 minutes before I popped them in 350 degree oven, crossed my fingers and hoped I would have my beginner's luck. Hahahaha!! Not to be!

To my horror, 6 minutes into baking, my macarons grew enormous feet!! OK. Macarons are supposed to have the famous 'feet' or 'pied' that makes them...well, macarons. I had skirts. Wah wah wah!!

Here they are after 15 minutes of baking. Absolute disaster! But I was undeterred. I sighed, kept my head up and proceeded to fill them with hazelnut spread (Nutella). THEY WERE DELICIOUS!! And the consistency was perfect albeit the appearance disastrous. Bet you wish you could taste this: It was heavenly!

Not to be foiled by my virginal attempt, I proceeded to clean up all my equipment to start another batch. Crazy?? Nah....determined. So this time, I was not going to fail. So I went back to the web to search for troubleshooting information, pondered a bit, reviewed what I had done and determined to cure them.

Next: My second attempt: Raspberry lemon macarons.

I had a hunch that the problem was with my spankin' brand new Jennair convection ovens. Happily, the new Jennair ovens took less space so I had a cabinet guy put in a new drawer under the pair. Awesome

I had to make conversions because convection ovens are happily more efficient than regular ovens. I adjusted the temperature to 318 degrees F for good measure and because 318 just sounded better than 320 or 315. (Even if the awesome computer in the oven can make the proper conversions from convection to regular ovens...)

Oh and while I'm mentioning ovens I might as well also mention that my next project will be to get an induction cooktop that Wolf or Thermador make. Doing so might wake the gourmet cook in me. After all, I did take many cooking classes in college!

So back to the macarons. I decided to go girl power and use my food colour gels and go for neon pink macarons. Here they are all ready to 'dry'.

This time, I made the following adjustments: Longer drying time. I let them sit for at least an hour. Lower oven temperature. Less macaronnage time. Added 3 minutes to bake time. And I did not forget to tap the sheets on the granite countertop to avoid air bubbles. After 6 minutes in the oven, here's what I saw:

Macarons in pink splendour with PERFECT FEET!! Ahhh la la. Tres magnifique! C'est bon! I quickly danced the Snoopy dance. Perfection feels so good. Here they are in all their glory! And they popped out of the parchment paper with nary a problem.

And the finished product---VOILA! Raspberry macarons with lemon curd filling. This has quickly become everybody's favorite flavour.

Next: Getting more confident.

I am getting almost a bit cocky now that I've made a few more batches and they've all turned out ok. By OK, I mean that they have good pied (feet) and excellent consistency...meaning not too crunchy but chewy with a soft middle. Delectable. What I am still working on: shiny tops and better handling of the piping bag so my macarons are all the SAME SIZE. I may need a different size tip. I'll have to experiment on that.

Above are my pandannus flavoured macarons rising with feet beautifully. I filled these with white chocolate ganache. And here they are below all paired and waiting to be filled.

So far, I've made chocolate macarons with hazelnut filling, pink raspberry ones with lemon curd filling, lavander coloured coconut macarons which turned light brown in the oven (I will have to lower baking temperature for purple to retain their colours...) filled with dulce de leche (YUM), green pandannus (very fragrant leaves made into herbal tea in East Asia..) with white chocolate ganache and finally, I tried a different food colour (powdered) and did another batch of violet macarons flavoured with orange essence and filled with citrus (orange) white chocolate ganache. I've ordered some passion fruit and mango essense/oil flavourings and I'm venturing into making exotic flavours. I am only going to get better and soon I will have mastered the making of Parisian macarons. (I only hope that crazy person from Idaho who likes to 'put one over me' does not try to make these just for that reason. It's just....so incredibly sophomoric. But I'm sure she wouldn't even know the meaning of that word. But I am flattered that she makes me THE ONE to set her sights on bettering. That makes me superior. HAHAHA!!)

Padannus flavoured macarons filled with white chocolate ganache

Orange flavoured macarons with orange-white chocolate ganache.

This might solve Kurt's wallet problem