Crab Avocado Salad

This was the surprise hit of the feast! First off, you will need some fresh corn. The corn was boiled and then the kernels cut from the cob. See above photo. Doesn't that look good enough to eat already?

Then I made some fresh salsa out of Rome tomatoes, sweet onions, cilantro and some lime juice, salt and pepper.

Then, using a 2 inch round mold, layer the following ingredients: fresh Hass avocado sprinkled with lime juice, corn, grilled red peppers, avocado, salsa and a generous handful of fresh, lump crabmeat that's been tossed with more lime juice and sea salt. Make sure everything is compact in the mold and then remove. For garnish, I piped in my favorite soup: creamed tomato and basil soup. But you can use a nice homemade thousand island dressing or creme fraise.

Potatoes And Yam Casserole

I tried something new this year with my smashed potatoes. First off, I saw some novelty potatoes: purple, red and white ones. I bought an assortment, scrubbed and boiled them. (Keep skins on.) Then mashed them to death. In a separate bowl, pour about 2 cups buttermilk that has been scalded with about 3 tablespoons of Knorr's Alfredo sauce stirred in. I then poured this concoction into the potatoes as we mashed. Add some unsalted butter and then salt and pepper to taste. YUM. Creamy with a kick!

This year, I decided to finally try cornbread stuffing. I went to our local Whole Foods Market where they have very good cornbread. I bought 1.5 pounds of corn bread precut into squares that I gently placed in a bowl. I added one can of water chestnuts, chopped and 2 cups of grated Monterey Jack cheese. I made sure I folded these dry ingredient into the cornbread so as not to smash the squares. Then in another bowl, I mixed 2 eggs, 2 cups free range chicken stock, and 4 tablespoons Italian herbs. Again, I folded the liquid into the cornbread mixture and poured everything into a casserole dish that I painted with extra virgin olive oil. Bake for 1 hour at 350 degrees F. Voila! It was a hit.

Squash And Apple Soup

This soup was so easy to make, it's insane. First, caramelize 1 cup of chopped leeks. (Use only the white part---that's 3 leeks...)

Then I caramelized some butternut squash in EVO oil. To make things easy, I bought the squash already peeled and cut from Whole Foods Market. That made it painfully easy! Then add a little soup stock to finish cooking the squash. This time, I also added one big apple. After everything is fork tender, I processed the leek-squash-apple mixture in my Cuisinart. I already had some free range chicken stock in a soup pot and all I had to do was add the processed mixture. Add spices of your choice. I added 1/4 cup of maple syrup, ground white pepper, sea salt, and a little cumin and nutmeg. Then I creamed it with half and half. Correct seasonings before you serve. Everybody loved it!

Overwhelmed.... Again

All my children will be home today. I am so excited. But overwhelmed. I just finished my fifth load of laundry and I'm not done! I had 7 college students, 3 boys and 4 girls over the weekend. I set up 3 aerobeds, 1 trundle bed and 2 beds. Yesterday, I deflated all the aerobeds, stripped all the beds and laundered loads of sheets, blankets, towels and quilts. Egadz. My back is sore. I also put together a brand new portable playpen/changing table/bassinet all by myself. Then I unpacked a spankin' new LCD television/DVD player combination. Got that baby hooked up good. The most challenging task was, amazingly, installing my new Mighty Mouse wireless Mac Mouse. Turns out my OS needs updating to install the extra features. Nevertheless, this new mouse works like a charm. I love the tiny, scrolly wheel. What's next in my list? Yikes. I am exhausted.



Today, I have a long list of groceries to pick up. I am going to start cooking for Thanksgiving today. I am making it easy. Turkey will be brined tomorrow and then stashed in the roaster early Thursday morning. Yams will be mashed, prepared and ready for the oven. Fruit salad will be in the fridge. Squash will be processed and ready to be made into bisque on Thursday. I am going to boil the potatoes already so all we have to do is smash it on Thursday. Pies have been ordered. Ice cream in the freezer. Breads will be picked up from the bakery on Wednesday. I am setting the table on Wednesday night. It'll be good.



Then on Thursday, after the meal is over, I am going to sit and crash and watch foreign movies with the kids. Clean-up....not for me. I'll leave that up to everybody else. And then soak in the joy of being together. Good plan.



I'll make sure I take pictures. Right now, I need another xanax. I think I dreamed yesterday happened.

After The Celebration

The house is quiet now. After a fun sushi lunch, Kurt and I drove the last of our PSHS guest to the airport to catch his plane back to Minnesota. I've finished picking up the house, stripped the beds, started laundering the linens and towels, vacuumed the floors and scrubbed the kitchen sink. My hands feel like sandpaper. It's unsettling. I rub hand creme on them to try and alleviate the dryness to no avail. It is getting dark and from where I sit, I can see planes flying across the sky---a fringe benefit of having a house overlooking the airport flight paths. It's the stacking hour and I can see a row of bright lights quietly and deliberately following an invisible path towards a common destination. For a brief moment, I am mesmerized by the thought that there are literally thousands of humans being transported across the sky, each living meaningful lives, each with loved ones and all contained and ensconced in aircrafts magically suspended in air hundreds of feet above the earth piloted by another human being. I was glad that by this time, all my friends have arrived safely to their various destinations. It is a strange and wondrous world we live in--and an awesome time to be alive. Since Thursday of last week, FIFTEEN chums from Philippine Science High School have met and laughed together. Some brought their spouses and significant partners. Two brought their daughters. Some stayed for only a few hours. But each one leaving hopefully, with their lives forever changed for the better. It has been a wonderful time. Last Saturday evening, me and four of my girl-chums spent the night together after the dinner party. As we sat together in our pajamas, make-up washed off and eyes barely open, we fought sleep and fatigue just to stretch our time together....some of us not wanting to retire first for fear that we might miss something. Our girl talk ended at 4 am. I felt so much closer to my friends after hearing their life stories, their perceptions, their fears and their victories. Clearly we are now seasoned and savvy women. Experience does that. And time. My life clearly is better because of my association with them. It is so amazing to me that I don't remember having any kind of meaningful interaction with most of the 'boys' when we were in high school. In some instances, I don't even remember saying even a squeak to them. But seeing them again, interacting with them and now, having some of them in my home ---well, has been lovely! I look at them and I see accomplished, kind and generous people who I consider to be great friends and in whose presence I derive great pleasure. The absence of teenage angst has been a great boon. Maturity does have its benefits.

The decade of our 50s promises to be one of celebration---if we let it. To that end, my friends are planning more opportunities to renew and invest in friendships. We will be in San Francisco the weekend of January 25. We hope to experience dining at the world famous French Laundry---that is, if we can secure reservations since there is a three month wait-list. In late February or early March, we plan to be in Oahu, Hawaii. November, next year, our friend Rolly will have another medical convention in New Orleans. We hope to congregate there was well. Much can happen during our 50th decade and we aim to create more memories together.

The investments we make with friends who knew us before we became who we are now can yield many happy returns. I am banking on it.

Overheard At The Airport

Joey arrived from Minnesota Thursday morning. He got picked up by his high school chums, Christie, Butch & Chat. He couldn't find passenger pick-up and his three friends couldn't find him. So Christie got out of the car to look for Joey. She dials his number to ascertain his whereabouts. He answers. 

Christie: Joey! Where the heck are you?

Joey: I'm here!

Christie looks across the street and there dead center was a man with a cellphone to his ear. It's Joey.

Christie: Ay porbida!

She hangs up and waits for Joey to cross the street.

Joey: I had a hard time finding passenger pick up. I was at the taxi pick up!

Christie: Let's go then!

Joey: I'm so hungry.

Christie: Shoot. We already ate. Butch, Chat and I went to dimsum at Chinatown.

J: What? I want to go to a Japanese restaurant!

C: Too bad. We can talk about it in the car. They had to make another circle around the airport. Can't park and wait.

J: Ok. Good. Since we have time, let me get something in my bag. I have something for you.

C: Presents?! Yeah. Gimme. Gimme Gimme!! What is it?

J: I got you something from Lithuania but I only got three. Chat and Les got the other two so don't be telling others in the group that I gave you this cause I don't want the others to feel bad.

C: Don't worry! I won't tell a soul!! (!?) Yippppeeee!!

J: Here.

It's a small bag. Christie opens it. It's a necklace with a pendant of amber.

C: (Shouting with glee...) AMBER? Is this amber? Thank you Joey! Does it have a bug in it?

J: Yes, it has a bug.

C: (perusing and inspecting the amber...) Where? I can't see it.

J: There! That's the bug.

C: I can't see it. It's too small. I want a big bug. Do Chat's or Leslie's have big bugs? Did I get the amber with the smallest bug?

J: That's most certainly a bug. It's obviously a bug.

C: But I can't see it! Is this furry thing the bug?

J: Yes that's the bug.

C: But it's so small. It's like a mini-mosquito.

J: What did you want? A bangaw? A horse fly?

C: Yeah. A big bug. I want to see Chat's and Leslie's. I want the one with the biggest bug.

J: Are you kidding me?

C: No. I want the amber with the biggest bug.

J. Next time, I'll get you amber with a grasshopper!

C: There's the car! Let's go!

Moral of the story: If you're a bug, don't get caught unaware....stay away from tree resins.

Of Ruth and Lucy

I get to see Lucy again this Saturday. Sunday is her big day when she receives her name and blessing from her dad. We will be driving up from Las Vegas---a good six hour drive.

I've been pondering this occasion lately. Lucy is first of the second generation from my line, to be born in the USA. She is only one quarter Filipino. She is the second generation of deRama's (my line) to be born in the covenant. Because I am the only deRama who has children, my father's line lives on only through me. That means that my children don't have cousins on my side of the family.

Lucy has blue eyes. She doesn't resemble a Filipino baby at all. One day, she will say that she has Filipino blood...and that will reference me. I am that exotic or mysterious ancestor whose legacy can be relegated to an enthusiastic ice breaker at dinner parties: "I have Filipino blood" or "I have a great-grandmother who was Filipino."

*********************************

The story of Ruth has been told many times. It has been used ad nauseum to characterize loyalty and love. Ruth, after being widowed, decides to leave Moab with her mother-in-law, Naomi. Many laud her for being loyal to Naomi...for loving her mother-in-law as if she were her own mother. Great story.

But wait. Why would a woman choose to live with her mother-in-law when she has a mother? Is that not being disloyal to your own flesh and blood? What does this "betrayal" say about Ruth?

Here's what Naomi tells her two daughters-in-law:

And Naomi said unto her two daughters in law, Go, return each to her mother’s house: the Lord deal kindly with you, as ye have dealt with the dead, and with me. The Lord grant you that ye may find rest, each of you in the house of her husband. Then she kissed them; and they lifted up their voice, and wept. (Ruth 1:7-8)

Clearly, both Ruth and Orpah had mothers....and families who would welcome them and love them. What about loyalty to their own mothers, siblings and families? Why would they be less important than Naomi who was not a Moabite but a member of the house of Judah? This definitely does not show loyalty. How can you leave your own mother to run off with your mother-in-law to live in a strange country? Where is her loyalty to her family, her mother, her family, her own blood? Is the story of Ruth and Naomi then, really about loyalty? Obviously, it is not. If not, then what?

Ruth, being a Moabite whose culture worshipped idols, was a convert to the belief system of the house of Judah. Like Naomi and her fallen husband, she believed in a Messiah. Naomi's household was of Jewish heritage living within the confines of idol worshippers in the land of Moab. And Naomi, being widowed, wanted to return to Judah to be with her own family so she can worship her God freely as a widow...as a woman without a husband. Remember that without a husband, women did not have a fighting chance to survive....much less in a foreign land and even worse, a widowed Jew living in Moab. Ruth, unlike Orpah, decided to leave her own family to be with Naomi: to embark on a long journey to Judah--a land she had never before lived in, to a culture unlike her own, to a people who spoke a language unlike her own. All this because she knew that living alone in Moab, without the support of a husband and now, a mother-in-law, she would face a difficult life living as a widow who believed in and anticipated the coming of the Messiah, the Jehovah of the Old Testament who would later be born, within a country who overwhelmingly did not share the same belief. And I'm not even delving into the details of the culture and role of a woman during these times. If we understood the culture and times, it would strike us even harder how difficult this decision had to have been for Ruth....and how acutely significant it was---ironically, another widow who would choose to live in a foreign land under the care of her mother-in-law who, I would gather, hoped that her family, her clan will take her back after years of living in Moab.

The story of Ruth and Naomi then, takes on a clearer and logical path: it is the story of a woman who had to follow her belief in the one true God---a woman who would leave the family and country she loves to be a stranger in a new land, live with a new people who worship the one true God. It then becomes a story of faith and testimony in the one true God.

In time, she will marry Boaz. And out of her loins, by her union with Boaz, three generations later would be born David who would be king. As we all know, Jesus comes from the house of David both via his 'adoptive' father Joseph and quite directly through Mary who also comes from the same ancestry.

Why am I thinking about this story? Because I can relate. I am living in a new land, speaking a language that is not my own, raising children in a new culture. And now, my children are having their own children. They are Americans. But somewhere along their genealogical line, I will pop up---like the Moabite, among the the house of Judah.

And Lucy is the first branch sprang from that fruitful bough.

A True Halloween Story

So I've been asked on numerous occasions about my uncanny ability to sense things. Last night, I was reminded of an experience that I had with Kurt's grandmother. Here's what happened:

We were living in Wymount Terrace in Provo, Utah while Kurt was going to law school at BYU. Our apartment was a very small 2 bedroom apartment. (Did I say very small? It was teeny...)



One night...in the middle of the night, I was restless and could not sleep. So I quietly got up and walked to the living room to watch television. I did not turn on the lights because I did not want to rouse Kurt and the boys who were all in deep slumber. At around 2:30 in the morning, I sensed something in the air. It's very hard to describe the feeling but it would seem like I was dreaming but I was perfectly aware of everything that was going on...in fact, I sat up. Then I sensed the presence of several 'persons' in the room. My heart started pounding and I was scared. So I said out loud;



"Should I be afraid of you guys?"



I 'heard' a response but only in my head.



"No."



So I started to get curious.



"Are you good spirits? Because I don't feel very warm and fuzzy right now."



I 'heard' this response:



"We are unfamiliar to you. But not to your sons."



Then I understood. They were all related to Kurt and my sons but not to me. They were generations of ancestors from the Faux line. At that instance, I sensed the presence of more spirits filing in and walking pass the couch where I was sitting. I was impressed that they were all looking in to Kurt and then to the boys' room and then disappearing from there. All they did was look at Kurt and the boys as if wanting to see them for the first time. I could sense the file of many spirits passing by. It lasted close to an hour. I basically just sat up and 'watched' as this happened. None of them deviated from just filing in, walking pass me and then looking in at the boys and at Kurt. Towards around 3:30 am, the number of spirits began to trickle until the last one passed. My anxiety level began to wane about that time and then, everything was silent and I felt alone again. I sat for a time and then returned to my bedroom and fell asleep.



At about 7:30am, the phone rang. I roused Kurt and told him to pick up the phone because "grandma just died". I said this half-asleep and Kurt jumped out of bed and picked up the phone. It was indeed true. Grandma, Ila Faux, passed that morning, if I remember right, at around 3:30am. After he hung up the phone, he asked me how I knew. I began to tell him what happen just a few hours ago.

I've had other similar experiences. I had a fantastic experience with my father on one occasion.

But that's another story for another time.

I Think Too Much

During a girls' only lunch, someone made a comment that I "think too much." This is not the first time I've been accused of this heinous thing. It's a congenital disorder that I've struggled with for decades.

I am not an unusually intelligent person. I'd say I'm pretty smart. And I'm not dumb either. But I have to admit that I have a tendency to over-think things through. Worst of all, I do over-analyze. That's the downside of my overactive thinking. It can be devastating. Sometimes, my mind races through various scenarios and perspectives and before you know it, I am haplessly emotionally invested in an event or a notion before anyone else gets there. It can be unnerving when I'm the first one to react to something and I start crying before anyone else even realizes that there's something to cry about. By then, that moment is sucked out because everybody's attention is drawn to my reaction and nobody knows why I've been reduced to this babbling idiot because the cause will have simply poofed, vanished.



Variables that are often overlooked by or are invisible to others are very clear and obvious to me. So, before anyone realizes the problem, I will have already reacted---oftentimes, quite ridiculously. So I've learned to hold things in. That produces a side-effect that is very undesirable: depression. As things mount in my head and I realize that there's nothing that can be done but let things happen, I stew. Many times, people get gobbsmacked at how ridiculous my thinking gets.

But there are also very good advantages. I tend to over-analyze myself. So I consistently try to find better ways of being me. Many times, I fail at the execution of my plans to alter negative behaviour but sometimes....I get it and get it good. Those are good days. I tend to keep evaluating my goals daily, asking myself questions about how I comported myself during the day and then figuring out how to be better. I also like to find patterns of my own behaviour that need squashing. The older I get, the more frightened I am that my bad patterns will become permanent. You know that saying: you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Well, this dog (or female dog, if you wish....) wants to learn new and better tricks. And if I am not on board, I will be consigned to become....well, a very old and cranky female dog.



Another advantage is that I don't have to be surprised when what's inevitable by my vista, happens. Because I think too much, I can see patterns where others can't. When I was younger, I often tried to control the outcomes of these patterns. But as time went by, I realized that you can't control anything outside your person without paying a hefty price. So, I sometimes amuse myself just waiting....and watching as the predicted outcomes happen. This is probably the most difficult aspect of my disease because giving up that control requires a bundle of serenity that I never had. But I find that the more I give up, the more I find peace....which is, in a huge way, strange.



Thinking too much, while it very well IS a handicap for me, can be my biggest and best gift if I can learn to harness its overbearing power into a power for good. It's akin to finding out that you can fly but don't know how to navigate, control and set boundaries. Therein lies my constant challenge.



I need to take my brain to the spa.

Autumn Meanderings

I went out and shopped for Fall decorations so my house will look festive for Thanksgiving. (See my lame & banal attempt on left...) I feel like I am losing a lot of my creativity and my mind can only come up with tired ideas. I need a change of scenery.

Whenever the "ber" months sweep by, I am always beset by a certain melancholy. The dropping of the temperature probably does that. All of a sudden, I have a sudden yearning to sip a mug of smooth, hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows by the fireplace while I get cozy under a plump woolen blanket and watch a mindless movie on the telly. Next week, we turn our clocks back for daylight-savings time. I think it's stupid that we do this. This means that by 3:30pm, it'll be dusk and dreary. Egadz. Who thought of that? (It's 3 days later and I just found out that daylight saving time was instigated by....egadz....Benjamin Franklin!)
All things have seasons and cycles. I do find that truth absolutely amazing. If one would just sit down and think about it, (woops, I am thinking again!) inevitably, one would feel the presence of Deity. It is a perfect concept. There are an endless array of cycles in the world above, below and in us that beg observation and pondering.

Last week, we met with our financial planner. It was jarring to suddenly be faced with some realities that we know about but can't necessarily relate to: aging, mortality, death. The reality is, either Kurt or I will eventually experience losing the other. That eventually had to be addressed. In the back of my mind, I couldn't accept that this will happen. Not may happen---will happen. And yet, I see cycles happening all round me that prove this inevitability.

While having lunch yesterday with my best friend, we prattled about cosmetic procedures. Then she said that I shouldn't wait until I'm 60 to get it done. 60! That sounds so old and unreachable. But I'm 50 now and it sure went fast. Time to call the doctor.

I don't believe that the best opportunities happen only in youth---that our futures are made and set by the choices that we make in our youth. I believe that every season is full of a thousand opportunities. Age brings wisdom to those to seek it and opportunities for change and reinvention still do exist even at 50...and I anticipate the same at 100....or even at the moment that I take my last breath. This I know is true because with every breath we take, there is an opportunity for insight, understanding and clarity. Pure knowledge can happen in the twinkling of an eye... and that knowledge can be elusive in other seasons when, for instance, we get too busy grabbing life's gifts and experiences in our youth. There is much to look forward to.

The Greatest Gift

I get to have dinner with some donors and potential donors for Brigham Young University tonight. It's so bizarre to think that I get to be one of the few who get to sit down and dine with a university president and a dozen other people who are movers and shakers. There are lawyers, real estate developers, a judge magistrate, a private consultant....men and women who have built substantial careers and have made a name for themselves. It's been an interesting journey. I've known many of them at least for nearly 15 years or more. I've seen some of their struggles and challenges and how they've coped or overcome them. Some have had reversals of fortune and have had to build again. Some have had family or physical challenges. But there is a common constant among them---they've all stayed close to the church despite seeming difficulties. 

We've been on both sides of the fence of having and not having. Nevermind that I came from a "third world country" and know what it's like to---live without electricity or water. Kurt and I married when we were college students and had two small toddlers when we started law school. I've lined up for surplus cheese and received help from the WIC program: receiving free milk, bread...some basic items for free---a potentially humiliating prospect but I got over it. I learned to sew, shopped at second-hand stores, clipped coupons, baby-sat to get a few extra bucks. Yeah, I know what it's like to live from paycheck to paycheck. Or not have one. And I know what it's like to start a business without any capital....to stretch that hamburger for another meal. I can safely say that having is better. Much, much better.

Some people assert that money is evil. I can't really buy into that mode of thinking. It is simply fear and a lack of faith that makes one think that way. Assigning an object a measure of morality is insane. Money can't make men greedy. Money can't make us haughty or proud. Money can't push us to do evil. It's people---it's us! The responsibility lies with us---not an inanimate object.

At times we judge people harshly because they happen to achieve some measure of success financially. We'd like to think that perhaps they didn't deserve their 'luck'. Perhaps we'd like to think that they're really miserable people underneath all that success. We'd like to think that they're the type of people who seek riches and not God or lack spiritual direction. Sometimes, we'd like to focus on their imperfections, their families, their other failures. We like to think that people divorce because they have money---not realizing that those who have financial difficulties also get divorces or have problems with their teenagers. We like to criticize their children, their own achievements, failures or difficulties, then blame having money for their ills. Or, we criticize their parenting skills; basing their skills or lack thereof on how much they give to their children or how much they withhold. Moreover, we'd like to think that they've somehow 'changed' and we can't be their friends anymore. Or worse, we secretly wish they will just eventually fail so that God can teach them a lesson or two--not realizing that failures do not necessarily reflect evil or misdeeds but rather, just parts of life's journeys. The rain falls on both evil and good men and many times, what we deem as 'failures' may actually have enormous blessings behind them. Judging others thus becomes such a useless and counter-productive exercise that makes us either bitter or proud.

Then there are times when we judge people harshly because they seem to lack financially. We'd like to think that their lot is due to their laziness, lack of vision or confidence. Some even think that God is punishing them for whatever misdeed or evil that they committed not thinking that many wealthy people may have done the same evil and reap the appropriate consequences in ways that we perhaps don't see. We'd like to equate having wealth or the lack of it with goodness or evil. Neither schools of thought can offer peace nor understanding for others.

My opinion is that having or not having has nothing to do with good nor evil. It's again, us....people, who make choices, not wealth itself or the lack of it thereof. Evil men will still be evil with or without money. Unhappy people will still be unhappy wherever they are on that proverbial ladder of life. Guilt, bitterness, anger or cynicism can all exist in whatever station of life we are in and having money or lacking it don't necessarily aid in their cultivation or eviction.

All things come from a greater and higher power. And just as quickly as blessings are given, they can also be taken away. I know the power of the widow's mite. There will always be someone wealthier, prettier or more talented. And conversely, there will also be someone less wealthy, less attractive or whose talents are not as shiny. The challenge is to love one another no matter where we are in life---up, down, comfortable or challenged; to see the good in all of us; to support and comfort each other; to feel each other's pain or joy; to find each other's strengths; just to love. It is the greatest of all gifts. It is what we all need to achieve. It is the great equalizer.

Cause and Effect

THE MORAL LAW OF CAUSE AND EFFECT

I just found out in conversation with my mom, that when I was going to college in Hawaii, a Filipino student, who probably loved to drink the juice of sour grapes, wrote a letter to my parents to tell them about my scandalous behaviour and misdeeds as a student. Apparently, the letter alluded to my being a "loose woman" and how I went out with "many men." She also insinuated that my sister and I left a lot of stinkin' garbage on campus. I began to laugh out loud. I said: It's NOT gossip! I DID date many men! Yeah baby! She can only wish she had my life. Such ugliness and bitterness... no wonder I didn't hang out with her.

Ahh---the boundaries of culture! My college years in Hawaii were the most enjoyable years of my life! And I thought high school was fun....college in Hawaii was...life in overdrive! Ahh yes. What a great time it was. And I never regretted a single moment because everything helped me to become me. And I like me.

Gossip is such a pest. I get this all the time. If it's not about my old college "scandalous" past, it's about my arrogance or my lack of mothering skills. Some of my husband's family members made it a pastime to talk amongst themselves---murmuring about me and probably wishing I could be "put in my place". Then there's those other Filipinos who loved to speculate about my private life: does she or doesn't she? (I think they wished they could live my life! Hahahaha!) It's just so banal.

Why I make a good topic of conversation is beyond me. While I was always busy feasting on life's buffet of experiences, risks and opportunities, I really had no time to contemplate what others thought of me. I was just too busy having the time of my life. In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't have the time nor the inclination to invest in those people whose lives must be so boring, they actually take the time to speculate and even act upon their bitterness and negativity. . . as if writing a letter to my parents would ease their nastiness, or make their lives better. It doesn't make any sense.

Gossip's intentions are always to try and make someone appear bad. It is so malevolent. They circumvent facts and wring their truths out of the fabric of reality. Being the constant fodder for ruthless gossip, I fail to see how speaking ill of others can be a source of satisfaction. Next time I see this person, who now works for BYU-Hawaii, I will ask her if she obtained her desired results from writing this letter to my parents, who, thankfully, were simply amused.

I am a firm believer in the universal concept that we will reap what we sow. Some refer to this law as karma which maintains that every act done, no matter how insignificant, will eventually return to the doer with equal impact. Good will be returned with good, and evil, with evil. It's the moral law of cause and effect. Having lived half a century on earth, I have thankfully been able to see first hand how people who seem to 'get away with it" actually swallow their own bitterness, in the end...or at least, eventually. Sometimes, it takes a generation but always, always, there is payback.

Happiness Is A Choice

HAPPINESS IS A CHOICE

In 100 A.D. Epictetus, a Greek philosopher said: what disturbs people's minds is not events but their judgments on events. It is interesting to note that though two or more people can share the exact same events, their perception of that same event can be so dissimilar that each would think the other was describing an event that happened at the same time but on parallel universes; never intersecting but always flowing along the same timeline.

Perceptions are colored by one's experiences and emotions regarding those experiences. And we carry these perceptions to various points in our lives like baggage. Often, the baggage we carry is not even needed where we aim to arrive but we hold on to it simply because we don't know that we can lose it or don't realize that we carry it at all. And many times, the baggage we carry is so heavy that it encumbers our journey and our interactions with people along the way. . . thus missing out on many potentially meaningful and deep relationships.

Life’s experiences can either be a boon or bane---and this depends completely on our willingness to be taught. From them, we can draw strength and determination. Many times, our experiences hone our abilities and sensitivities to variables that others can’t see; giving us great advantages. Yet at times, our life’s experiences can also cause us to be bitter, angry and discouraged---precipitated by our own inability to see things clearly. Immaturity, pride, selfishness, ignorance, a lack of vision, are a few of the factors that cause this myopia. When this happens, the baggage we carry haplessly seeps into our perceptions of the many events and relationships that we encounter in our lives, causing our reactions that will determine our place in the world we live in. It then becomes a matter of choices.

The choices that we make determine our place in the universe. Choice and accountability are interesting concepts and instinctively, I believe that we all know what they mean. But very few can actually connect the dots. My belief is that the more experiences and relationships we have, the more limited our choices become---that is, either our choices become clearer or they simply become more elusive. If this postulate has some bearing, then it would stand to reason that we can “collect” a brighter, more meaningful array of choices if we can control the quality of our experiences and relationships. Yes, other peoples’ choices may limit ours. And the quality of our life’s experiences can limit our ability to make wise choices. Can we do it? Can we control how our experiences shape us? Can we control how other people can affect our choice-making abilities?

I propose that the key to eliminating bad choices and leaving us with many viable and meaningful options is governed by the principle that, in a free society, while we may be able to control our physical environment, we cannot control other peoples’ behaviour. Thus, we are left with the all too powerful principle that the only sure person we can control is ourselves. We determine how the world around us will be by our ability to control our own behaviour.

Which brings me back to my blog subject: that happiness is a choice. Maybe I should even define the kind of happiness that I aspire to have: happiness that combines harmony and peace with the people I love. It’s the kind of happiness that does not destroy but rather, build. It’s happiness that elevates and enriches my spiritual being---the kind that matters to me. While others may define their happiness solely based on their own ego-driven desires: to be loved, to be admired, to be valued, to be validated and/or to be desired, note that this definition requires that we receive something from others or from someone. It enslaves us to the choices others make to mollify our requirements. We therefore actually give up control. And our happiness along with it.

If we determine that we cannot control other people’s behaviours and choices, then this definition of happiness is simply NOT a viable option for me. The happiness I refer to is one that is fueled by the desire and need to give; that is, to be able to love better, to forgive quickly, to be at peace, to achieve calmness. This is the kind of happiness that is not incumbent upon another person. After all, when all is said and done, in the end, we are responsible for our own happiness. Choice therefore HAS to be in harmony with the one true constant: that there is a God in heaven who has given us the calibrations for right and wrong. There ARE right and wrong choices. And the choices we make have to align with the powers that give us life....or we fall into disharmony, emptiness and darkness. Happiness is determined by how we live our lives and the choices that we make. And if we are miserable and unhappy, it would be disingenuous to blame others for our misery. The choice to be happy then begins in us.

To that effect, I’ve compiled another list of wise suggestions on how to expand our minds and hearts and allow ourselves to hone the ability to clear us of unnecessary baggage, develop a clear perspective in order to have perceptions that are truer to reality and correct principles, and to determine how our reactions can be more proactive, healing and helpful not just to us but to others.

Here are my top ten:

1. Seek wisdom not just from the people you associate with, but also from great minds in textual form. I mean, align yourselves with happy, progressive people---the ones who inspire you...and read good books that elevate, enhance your thinking process and encourage clarity of thought. Note that I don't like to buy my books at Deseret Bookstore necessarily. I like to expand my mind. I choose books not just for their content: let the art of literary writing be the top criteria in choosing good books because the ability to articulate thoughts in beautifully written prose is a lost art in and of itself! Reading well-written books is 50% of the joy. Content makes the other 50%.

2. Do not fear change: Where there is fear, there is opportunity. Always ask yourself this question---what wisdom can I draw from this experience? Remember that faith must be exercised.

3. Visualize your goals: Take a piece of paper and map out your future. (A goal that’s not written is only a wish...) If you don’t have a vision of what you hope for, if you can’t touch it, can’t see it, can’t feel it, you are living on fear. To hope is not merely a dream or a notion. Hope is to see a vision of that thing which you most desire coupled with the belief that you can achieve it. Once you see it, you will be more willing to pay the price. It's the yin and yang. I cannot underscore enough the importance of paying the price for the vision. So it's #1: VISION and #2: ACTION. One cannot exist without the other.

4. Quit blaming others: Your parents are not responsible for your bad choices and the devil did not make you do it. Assigning blame is a sure sign of fear and weakness. And a waste of time. If you have time to do this, you have no vision.

5. Make a decision to be happy: This decision starts every morning. Every day. It will determine how your day will be.

6. Be aware of patterns in your life: If you keep on making the same mistakes, you MUST change your strategy.

7. Replace bad habits with good ones. The only reason why we continue our bad habits is because we simply don’t know what to replace them with. Then we resist the better way because ‘it’s not me’. Well, duh. It’s “not me” because it still isn’t. Make it. That’s the idea.

8. Be aware that there is a higher power: We will ALL be accountable. We will all be held responsible for our actions and omissions. If it weren’t so, there is no point.

9. Anticipate joy: Men are that they might have joy! If you don’t anticipate it, you are merely existing. We are not here to suffer. Challenges and adversity are built into the fabric of life. But were it not for them, we would not experience joy.

10. Remember that everybody wants to be happy: Yeah. You’re not the only one. Novel thought?

My Special Cadre

MY HIGH SCHOOL FRIENDS

For the past couple of years, my friends have been celebrating each other's 50th birthdays---making and grabbing every opportunity to get together and express our love and appreciation for each other. We decided that NO one is allowed to deviate from being 50 until the last person turns golden. After that, we will remain ageless.

Friendships are so vital as we age, grow and experience all that life has to offer: highs, lows, joys and sorrows, health and sickness, pain and resilience..... We seek comfort in each other's journeys. The friends that I have---the ones who have known me before I became "me"---are gifts from heaven.

Now, I don't know how I managed to have them...but I relish having them around. They are singular and spectacular people.

Here's why:

1. They revel in each other's successes. They seem to not have the time nor the inclination to measure themselves against each other. When one achieves, they vicariously seem to experience those peaks and zeniths themselves. I think that's the secret: they actually feel that one's success is also their success. I love that.

2. They commiserate with you when you are at your lows. They don't abandon you---they lift you up and encourage you. They help prop you up when you feel like sinking. They don't judge your failures....they can separate failure from the person as if failure were just a mote in your eye. All you have to do is flick it off...or they'll do it for you.

3. They never allow you to be hard on yourself. They are quick to point out your strengths when your weaknesses seem to get the best of you.

4. They forgive easily....and quickly. And moreover, they forget the offense and let you begin where you stopped.

5. They are generous and kind. They WANT to share the spoils of their success with you....as if you contributed and invested in them.

6. They won't let you get away with your shenanigans. They'll call you on the carpet----but you can't help but feel that they do it because they really care about you. I really hope that 50 IS the new 40 because well.....there's so much celebrating to do. And from henceforth, every day is simply a gift.

My Hawaii

The week after I turned 19, I flew in a jetplane for the first time in my life. I was going to Honolulu, Hawaii to attend the Brigham Young University-Hawaii Campus on the North shore of Oahu. I left in the middle of my fourth semester of college at the University of the Philippines, certain that my iconoclastic academic experience was over and bitter that I had to attend a small liberal arts college miles away from the city.

I knew several Filipinos who were attending the college from church but not enough to feel confident that they would help me out. Most of all, I was afraid of every contingency that my imagination could conjure up. 

I will never forget the feeling I had after the plane landed in Honolulu. And that smell. It was clean, crisp and wonderful. There was a cool January breeze. Though I felt so alone and lost, I suddenly felt the excitement of adventure. That was the winter of 1975. I left Hawaii permanently in December of 1982.

One thing I can state for sure: I feel that Hawaii is my "home" because it was there that I became "me". I think it was because I had no recourse but to completely immerse myself in the culture of Polynesia. Those opportunities came in the form of being part of the university's performing group, Showcase Hawaii, the Polynesian Dance Ensemble and working at the Polynesian Cultural Center as a guide. I was the only Filipino who worked as a guide during my first year there but that opened up that possibility for others. Another discovery I made is that while I had a handful of Filipino friends, they were not the only ones I hung around with. In fact, I couldn't relate to most of them and conversely, most of them couldn't relate to me at all. So, I found kindred spirits---most of whom came from many countries of the world. Later, I set my sights towards joining the Hui Alii Club---the Hawaiian club. No Philippine-born student had ever joined it before. During those days, it was just more exclusive. I accomplished that after my first year. The highlight of that was the sublime opportunity to get asked to join the group that would perform an ancient Hawaiian hula at the Rainbow bowl during a half-time game between the U of Hawaii and BYU. THat's when I felt totally immersed--and totally 'local'---thanks to some wonderful Hawaiian friends who accepted me with so much aloha.

There are other 'successes' that I'm proud to have made. But the biggest success was not that the locals accepted me, it was an unexpected one: I totally fell inlove with everything Hawaiian----and I truly began to feel a deep reverence and appreciation for their culture, history and art. And that love spilled into other Polynesian cultures. So, my friends may come and go, and my knees can no longer bend as easily and fluidly doing the uwehe or the tamure, but my love for the islands can never be taken away because it is deep, genuine and sincere. I discovered that for all intents and purposes, I did not change the world around me at all. I changed me. I become the me that I like. I became a new creature. It was only in my heart that changes can be made....and the rest will simply fall into its rightful, peaceful place.

And I can use this same principle anywhere. This was my discovery. My clarity. Last week, I went back to spend 5 days with some friends. It was sheer joy. Everytime I go back, I feel invigorated....and 'found'. There is a calmness that comes to me when I am there that I do not feel anywhere else...not even in my own country of birth. I feel like I belong there and I do not know why. I get to go back at the end of October, this time, with my Kurt. So I am happily looking forward---


PHOTO ABOVE: I am seated in between a Hawaiian village guide and Mom Mahelona--- a wonderful, loving, generous woman of Hawaiian heritage whose son served a mission in the Philippines. This was taken a year after I arrived in Hawaii.

Do Parents Have Favourites?

Lately, I've been thinking about this question: Do parents have favorites? The Bible is replete with stories of parents with favorites. Jacob (Israel) favored Joseph. Isaac favored Jacob over Esau. Even God favored Abel over Cain. Does God play favorites? I think he loves us all the same. With others, he may be disappointed because of the choices that they make. But I am not talking about children who misbehave. I am merely musing about parents who favor a certain child regardless.

Growing up, I never felt that my parents played favorites. I guess it never mattered to me one way or the other. Or perhaps because they simply treated us the same. I'd like to think that they loved us equally...and fairly. Then again, I DO have a favourite child. Well, my favourite child is the one who doesn't give me much trouble and is always kind and loving to me--the one who offers me no challenges....at the moment. That changes. But then again, the child who has my attention is the one I worry about the most--the one who is having challenges. So it would also stand to reason that that child would be the favourite right? Whoever gets the most attention and stress? The one I worry about day and night? What the heck does a favourite child look like anyway? 

I am not questioning whether parents love one child more than the other. I am merely thinking that perhaps some parents SHOW their affection easily with some more than others. One thing I do know, a child always needs to feel that they are loved.

I can honestly say that I don't have a favorite child. Sure, there are a couple of children who seem to be more like me. And others communicate better than others. Others are my opposite but complement me so that I feel safe and assured with them. Each one is an individual and each one needs something different at any given time. Some are more sensitive than others. Some demand more attention than others. The safe explanation is that I love them ALL the same but treat each one of them differently. Of course, each one is a different individual. And as a parent, I have to be mindful that sometimes, those who seem distant are the ones who really need me. Here are some common sense rules that I've discovered that MUST be followed to achieve harmony among the children---

1, Never speak ill of any child. NEVER EVER EVER. It is a destructive force when parents make thoughtless comments about one sibling for another sibling to hear. It spawns divisiveness. It destroys. It sabotages.

2. NEVER compare a child over another. This is just common sense. Conversely, be very careful when you thoughtlessly gush about one of your children to another. While it is a good thing to talk about how wonderful things are going with your child's sibling, it is paramount to your child to give him/her the blessing of YOUR time together---be interested in his/her life. When you are talking to one of your children one on one, he/she needs to be the center of your attention----he or she needs to be the most important child during his/her time with you. It just doesn't make sense when for instance, one of your children call you and you prattle continuously about how wonderful his/her other siblings are and then you've completely forgotten to ask how he/she is doing or taken an interest in her/his life. That just sucks. Be interested in ALL your children especially the one you're with. Ask them about their life, their week, their work.....

3. NEVER entertain gossip. Do not let a sibling speak ill about another. Gossip creates chasms. ANd it is a bad habit that becomes an entertaining sport among family members. It sometimes becomes a pastime---a common bond between family members---when they sit together and gripe, gossip, complain and find fault among each other. In due time, no one will know how to have a conversation without these elements. And then feuds begin...where no one will ever remember how they started.

4. NEVER EVER gossip or speak ill about an in-law. It reeks. It is rank. It is just pure evil.

5. Encourage each other to help one another. Encourage kindness, gentleness, support by using words and phrases that convey appreciation. Here are words that build and show love: Thank you. Please. Tell me about it. I'm interested in what you have to say. What do you think about...? I am so proud of you. Sit with me and tell me about your week..

6. Always have healthy, frank discussions about your concerns and learn to convey these in a way that is not critical, demeaning or adversarial.

7. Apologize quickly when you've said a boo-boo. You'll know it. You'll feel it when you've said something in a thoughtless, insensitive manner. Apologize as quickly as possible.

8. NEVER EVER demean, criticize or discredit an in-law. To do so would be severing the ties that bind you to your children. LOVE them as you would your own children. Unconditionally. They may be imperfect but your child chose them...loves them. Never underestimate that.

9. And here's the most important rule of all: remember that you cannot control other peoples' behavior. You can only control YOUR behavior. You alone can affect how others treat you by the way you behave. There is great POWER in this concept.

10. Trust in your children's ability to govern themselves wisely, While there may be extenuating circumstances that will require some intervention, if you've done your part, you just need to watch them make their own decisions and make sure that they know they have YOUR support.

It's past midnight again and my thinking is a bit muddy. I must get some sleep....

Finding My Place In Limbo

I hate summers. The temperature here in Las Vegas can reach a scorching 115 degrees Fahrenheit with 13% humidity. Nevada is sucking my youth away right before my very eyes as I am mummified by the arid heat of the desert. I absolutely hate it. But I don't know any other place that I can call home. In fact, while I do have a "home" in the sense that my family is my "home", in the deepest, most secret places of my heart, I don't know where my home is. I mean, I'm not an American.

I wasn't born nor raised in the USA. I don't sound "American" though I would consider myself not just fluent in the language but quite articulate. And I would consider myself well entrenched in all things American--humor, music, politics or pop culture. And officially, I am an American citizen because I believe in participating in the great democracy and freedom that this great nation gifts its citizens. And yet, I don't feel American. America doesn't feel home to me.

On the other hand, I was born and raised in the Philippines. I love my culture. I speak the language. I eat like one. I swear like one. And yet, I feel like a stranger when I am there. I long for the Philippines of my youth from the 60s to the mid-70s.

I long for those days when you could still hear the frogs croaking at dusk as I took my afternoon walks on the street and when there were few vehicles on the road to even worry about smog or dust. I long for the clear brooks and streams of the Bulacan of my youth when one can see shrimp and fishes in rainbow colors right from the banks...or when we can climb a santol or chico tree and eat their succulent flesh without worrying about the filth.

I want to hear the man yelling "puto! kutchinta!" thus heralding the sunrise...or the old lady in a tapis and a huge clay pot (palayok) on a circular base (dikin) yelling "guinataan!" How about the old Chinese man who yells "taho!" or the young boy selling "balut!" "penoy!"--all signaling the start of merienda, the afternoon snack.

I loved those many afternoons and evenings when friends would just drop by unannounced to eat and talk or make music with their guitars, harmonicas and while my father played the piano. So many wonderful moments all gone. The last time I went home in 2000, I felt lost in the unbelievable traffic, dust, soot and smog of the streets of Manila. And that's just the beginning.

My Manila, my neighorhood, my beautiful Bulacan....they're gone now. And I find myself a complete stranger in a strange land that I no longer know or recognize.

So I am now a Nevadan. Nearly 20 years. A desert suburbanite. I lock my doors at all times. I have a security system. I live in a gated community. My house is temperature controlled at 77 degrees F. My visitors have to be buzzed in. I don't remember ever having a friend just "drop by" to have a snack and to pass away the afternoon. . .or to even nap on the chair next to me just to gain enough rest to still be around for dinner. I "lunch" with friends now. Two hours tops and it's over for another week or month. I have cold cereal for breakfast. And I have no maids or chauffeurs and worst of all, no laundry lady. Egads. All those roles are mine now.

I speak English 24/7. My husband is a Caucasian who does not speak my language. One of my two sons married a beautiful Caucasian girl. My first grandchild carries only a quarter of my race. Her eyes may be blue.... No one will recognize her as a Filipino. My blood will have been diluted a fourth of its power. None of my four children speak Tagalog. But I speak American perfectly. I have to confess that there are times when I NEED to speak the mother tongue to someone who is close to me. I sometimes wish that my husband can use Tagalog endearments to show his affection. But even if he does, it will not sound genuine because he will NEVER speak it the way I speak his language. That disparity sometimes annoys me. And sometimes, it saddens me.

One day, I was jarred ever so strongly by the realization that on my deathbed, I will speak another language that is not my own....if I want the people who matter to me to understand my dying words. Such a travesty. And so I find myself in between worlds...neither fitting here nor there. And though no one will know this because on the surface, I integrate very well, deep inside there is a definite longing for a country that exists only in my memories.

An Exercise In Control

I am an artist. I cannot imagine my life devoid of the opportunity to employ various mechanisms and vehicles to express myself. I am also temperamental. At times, I can be insufferable. For sure, I am opinionated. To make matters worse, I am seemingly confident. And that's my double-edged sword. At times, I'm not sure if my seeming confidence is actually Fear trying to protect myself from perceived dangers---a residual reaction of a honed instinct perfected from years of trying to protect the helpless child in me that suffered from predators and abusers. At times, I think that that confidence really IS confidence; the result of my quest to find enlightenment and wisdom in the darkness and desperation of a childhood full of strife and challenges. Nevertheless, its that perceived confidence that has confused, misunderstood and misguided many into forming an accurate idea and impression of who I really am. When others finally figure me out, it's always a revelation---an unexpected discovery that I am, after all, simple and easy to figure out. Not only that. People actually are surprised that I am a nice person. 


Sometimes, I am an easy fodder for those who perceive me as a confident, resourceful person. For them, it is easier to hate me than to accept me. For years, I wanted acceptance and love from people. I thought I found that when I got married and began a new life in a new place and setting. But that was not to be. Instead, for years, I have been one of two favorite targets for gossip and back-stabbing. One of the members of the "let's-put-her-in-her-place" club once told me, after nearly 10 years of "leadership" in the quest to make me look bad and therefore "unlovable", that all she wanted to do was "put one over me" because she was jealous of how everybody in the family loved me. That was her perception when she first met me. And she was determined to change that. 


After nearly two decades, I can definitely state that her quest to subvert and taint my standing in my new family has been very successful. Her efforts made for interesting holiday get-togethers---the kind where you walk in and you know you've been the topic of conversation while you were gone---and usually ended where, on the drive home, you suddenly realize that you've been put-down several times but didn't quite make the connection until miles later. Her methodology is insidious because of her subtlety...and because it took years of chipping and erosion through "gossip" and innuendos. Her loud and attention-demanding personality seemed to charm everybody and in due time, she was won everybody over. Before long, members of the family began to see and interpret the way I behave in ways that are so diametrically opposed to my motivations...yet strangely believable, thanks to her consistency. Consequently, for many of those years, I began to unravel to the point where I felt depressed, unappreciated and misunderstood. I used to have panic attacks whenever the prospect of having to be with them came up. I was a mess. My saving grace was being married to the most wonderful man in the world. In the end, it became apparent that the best move for us was distance. I no longer felt the need to try to belong. 


But then, about five years ago, I made a connection. The reason for my challenges was simple: I was desperate because I wanted people I loved to love me back... and I felt powerless because I could not control the forces (or people) whose habit and pastime was to make me look bad by gossip, intrigue and one-sided competition. Control is such an under-appreciated force. We want to make sure others comport themselves in ways that we expect. We want our husbands to be more loving. We want our children to be more ambitious.. . or we want them to love each other. We want our teachers to make us their teacher's pet. We want our boss to appreciate and complement us---perhaps pay us more. We want the world to move and turn in the direction that will give us the best advantage. Sometimes, we want to save others. And often, we just want others to like us...and like us VERY much. So we live our lives often with the intent to improve our husbands so they can become the men they're supposed to be. Or we live our lives solely to make sure no one will hate us or that others will like us. We just want to change the world around us to suit our needs and wants. Therein lies the hook. 


The reality is, we have absolutely NO control over the things around us. Sure, we can manipulate people, gossip about others so that we can control how others feel about the people who threaten us. Or we can threaten or cajole others to do what we want them to do. But in doing so, we pay a hefty price and set ourselves up to fail or to a life of disappointment and/or unhappiness. The truth is, the only person we can control is ourselves. And if we want the world around us to change, we need only change ourselves. Having realized this, I began to connect the dots. Everyday has been an experiment in control. Last week, I decided to control the way I see others. My goal: to be a cheerful, happy person. My methodology: to smile at three strangers, to strike a friendly conversation with three strangers and to compliment three people. What a revelation! I won't go into the wonderful details of my experiment but I will say that the results were astounding! Now, a week later, I am more sensitive to the world around me and what I can contribute to the 'force' of the day with my attitude, my decisions and my goals. The trick is, make your goals specific and simple enough to invite success. My experiment is still in the infant stage and the changes I aim to make are mere baby-steps but I am beginning to feel a difference.

Is This A Utah Thing?

My neighbor got tp'ed for the nth time. Dozens of rolls of toilet paper hanging from their trees and shrubs. It was everywhere! It was awful. They get TP'ed a lot. The first time I saw it, I was enraged. I thought: what idiot would do this to my nice neighbors? But what perplexed me more was the mixed reaction to this awful deed. While the mom of the house was just sick about it, the husband took it all in stride. With a shrug of his shoulders, he was out in the hot triple digit desert sun trying to clean up his yard. And over and over, he does this. His patience and lack of indignation puzzled me. So I asked my husband about it. He said it was a common practice where he grew up to tp someone's house when you like them. 

Whoa. What? Okay. I know I am a foreigner in these here lands but for Pete's sake--HOW does anyone get flattered by being tp'ed? I mean, those things are not easy to clean up. The paper gets wet and turns to mush. Heaven forbid it happens at night and your sprinklers come on---and in the morning, you get papier mache stuck to your trees, your shrubs, your house, your gate....and you have to scrape them off!! It is easy to throw the rolls to the tops of the trees so they unravel and hang everywhere but try removing them from the tall trees! It's not an easy task.

My husband also told me that sometimes, they 'fork' your yard. This is when they put hundreds of plastic forks all over your lawn thus destroying your landscape. This is also a sign that they like you. Worst even, some use eggs to "egg" your house effectively ruining the exterior paints and clean up is impossible. The damages are monstrous. But apparently, this is supposed to be flattering. HAVE THESE PERPETRATORS GONE BONKERS? And if they are really nice people, why don't they come and help my poor neighbors, who by the way, are just the nicest people, to clean up?

Yesterday, I saw their cute 16 year old cleaning up the yard and I asked her if she knew who did it. She did. It was a boy who has a huge crush on her. I am surmising that this is how he shows his affections for her. I told her that he needs to get his butt in so he can clean the mess up! Well, she just smiled demurely and said it's almost cleaned up anyway. Super nice girl and I thought: hmmm......this does not compute, why is SHE the one cleaning it up and not the nice boy who did it and for some reason, I can't seem to find anything good about it. What was the boy trying to prove here? I mean, as he was doing it, was he thinking: hmmm...tall trees...let me just throw this roll higher so it's harder to remove. Was this in his head? And if this thought did run across his head, what did he want to accomplish or prove? I was getting a headache so I stopped thinking.

Being a foreigner and obviously therefore, a non-Utahn, I am mortified by this 'tradition'. NO ONE better do this to me because I am going to get militant about it and call the police for vandalism. Try as I may, I just can't compute this tradition to 'showing affection' or showing that you like someone. It's tantamount to showing someone you love them by breaking their face. I can see it now. A Hallmark moment: SHOW SOMEONE YOU CARE: Get a crowbar and break all the windows in their car...or get an ice pick and punch their tires. Or, buy a hundred rolls of toilet paper and tp their house. Make sure you add some eggs just to emphasize the point. And then a slow-mo shot of a girl coming out of her house with her hair flowing in the air, and then a smile on her face as she sees her car and yard vandalized. "Oh my gosh! Jim loves me so much!", she gushes as she touches her car-full of eggs and toilet paper and dreamily floats along her trees all covered with strips of toilet paper. Yeah, that computes.

I was researching this confusing tradition on the 'net and every blog, forum and news article comfirms to me that this is done when you DON'T like someone or as a vendetta against, for instance, a bad teacher or the coach of an opposing football team. So I am now of the opinion that this dastardly act of tp'ing a house to show affection or appreciation is intrinsic only to Utah....and Utahns alone. And then, mostly in Utah county---the Provo, Orem, Pleasant Grove, American Fork...etc....area. This further proves to me that perhaps, some in-breeding HAS occurred in those parts. I mean, come on...it's warped logic at the very least and INSANE at the most realistic!

Again, as a foreigner, I have to assimilate well. I've even bought boxes and boxes of full-sized Snickers, Mars, Twix, KitKat and Baby Ruth bars to give away on Halloween---the most confusing American tradition to me. (Aw come on! What the hell does it mean when kids knock on your door saying "Trick or Treat?" I mean, one time, a group of them came and yelled those very words, I just stood at the door and said: OK...Trick! And nothing happened. I mean, those poor kids just looked at me perplexed. So, I had to give them candy and off they went. And what do we celebrate anyway? Ghosts? Goblins? Witches? I mean, WHAT'S THE SIGNIFICANCE? What does Halloween teach? Nothing. Just another perplexing tradition when we send our children to knock on strangers' doors to ask for candy after 364 days of reminding them not to talk to strangers at any time. Yeah! Just another mindless tradition culled from the darkness of Paganism and probably, a little of the dark religions.... yeah...While other countries have religious festivities honoring God, in the US, we honor witches, vampires, the macabre....Think about it!) I've accepted Halloween like a good naturalized American and happily give out chocolate and candies to children whose parents will tell them when they get home that they can't eat the treats anyway because their teeth will rot. Great exercise in confusion and irony, I guess. But I accept it. I participate. Most of the time, even happily.

But the point is, while Halloween doesn't require me to get out and scrub off dried up toilet paper, TP'ing someone's house to show affection cannot fly with me. I just cannot accept this warped reasoning. And I don't care if it's a Utah tradition or an LDS tradition. It just plain sucks.

Postscript:

I just found out that tp'ing someone's house to show them that you like them is also done "a lot" in southern California. Interesting. There is a lot of this culture that I don't understand.

New POSTSCRIPT:

I find it fascinating that since I've written this blog, I've heard from a few LDS people DEFENDING this act as truly a way to show that you like someone. WOW. I am so shocked. In fact, a couple of them were very defensive about this.

Try as I might, I still can't see how this is going to make me feel like I am liked or appreciated. Am I just insane?