April

Photo credit: L.Soriano

Who Knew Tabata Could Be So Dangerous?

Steve and I have started doing Tabata exercises together. Tabata is a work out style that consists of a series of 20 second quick bursts of repetitive exercises with 10 second rests. It's so speedy that beware, sometimes a head gets cracked in the process. (He actually had to attend a memorial service with his hair combed down.)

This Post Is About Promposals, John Mellencamp and What I am Willing To Bet

Let me backtrack.

I was engaged and married in 1993.
When Steve asked me to marry him, I think it was the dead of winter, and we were in the back room of my sister's house in Rochester, New York.
As I recall, he sort of mumbled something about marriage and then unceremoniously handed me an engagement ring.
(In his defense, my visa was expiring...)

As the years went on, I would meet more and more couples who had an "engagement story."
Scavenger hunts through a park (granted, that couple is now peacefully divorced)
Rings in drinks,
Big signs,
Oceanside or lakeside even pond-side proposals, etc.
And like the whiner that I can be, I would turn to Steve with narrowed accusatory eyes wondering why he could not have been more creative.
He would shrug unapologetic.

The thing is, some chicks dig that.
The question is, when do you give someone what they want, even if it is not your true nature?
When should you honor yourself?

The other night, Steve and I watched John Mellencamp in concert.
We were worried that he would sing unfamiliar songs from his newest album and save his old hits for the end, but we were not disappointed.
Early in his set, John said something along the lines of,
"the next song I am going to sing, I don't really want to sing, in fact I don't know why I am going to sing it except for the fact that you all want me to sing it..."
Then he started to sing "Jack and Diane."
The crowd went wild. The entire place started singing along with him.
He stopped singing and let the audience continue....until EVERYONE (except Steve, who knew) sang the wrong verse!
So he stopped everyone and said: "that's not right."
(everyone ((except Steve)) forgot the 'suckin' on chili dog' verse.

It was extremely funny.

Anyway, I digress.
I bring this up because clearly John Mellencamp weighs what he wants to do with what is wanted of him, and apparently with the right balance--it keeps people loyal.

Let's set that aside.

Have you noticed the craze of promposals lately?
If you've not had a prom going teenager for the past 3.5 years then you would not know what this is.
A promposal is the current trend of asking someone to go the the prom in an extravagant, flamboyant and creative fashion.
I have had the "pleasure" of hosting one such promposal when K helped a boy (friend) ask a girl (friend) of hers right here in my foyer.

When I first heard of promposals, I admit I was initially scornful and dismissive of it.
And then I decided to look deeper into why I felt this way, and I realized that it touched something tender in me.
I think I was still carrying my own (this is embarrassing, I know) disappointment about not getting a creative proposal over 21 years ago! (WTH?!)

Well any drugstore shrink will tell you that you can not get over anything you do not acknowledge so I  take this as a sign of onward movement.
And as a result of upward mobility,  I have now decided to view the trend of promposals as some sort of a training ground.
The promposal type of teenagers today,  may become the more celebratory engaged couples of tomorrow (as opposed to the blase`-too-cool-to-be-demonstrative-types)--who may become the grown adults of the future that will honor their spouses/children/parents/friends in a way the recipients want to be honored.

I am willing to bet that the teenaged boy of today that steps out of his comfort zone to do a creative promposal will mature into a man that honors not only his own mother but  also his wife (if she is a mother) for Mother's Day in a way they would appreciate.

I ain' agin' it 

(that's my slang for: "I am not against it" please try to incorporate this phrase in daily conversations as I would like it to trend)

In the words of John Mellencamp:

"Hold on to sixteen as long as you can,
changes come around real soon
make us women and men...."

Addendum:

Life Goes On....

We will not get parents-of-the-year award since we opted to see John Mellencamp, (thanks to Simon and Denise) instead of watching G's band concert this evening.  We sent K to watch her for us, which she did begrudgingly

I noticed that although the concert crowd was lively, upbeat and about 10 years younger than the Neil Diamond crowd, I still felt confident that I could out-sprint most of them in the event of a bear attack.

Last week we were also unable to attend G's sports banquet due to life-

I asked G if people were beginning to ask if she was an orphan.

In my defense--she may be better of raised by a pack of wolves. 

Phil 4:13 (May The Fourth Be With You)

Mile 13 Photo credit: Steve


The Weekend In Pictures.

I Made Black Cod With Miso Last Sunday,

as a welcome home dinner for Steve. It's one of his favorite dishes served at Nobu and copied at Umi.

I followed this recipe. It was a success. 

The Show Must Go On

(photo borrowed from Denise)

Steve and I went to see Neil Diamond last night with Simon and Denise.

I was not really interested in seeing this 73 year old guy, since the only song I was familiar with was Sweet Caroline--but in the interest of "date night" which we've been trying to do once a week--I went.

It was actually a fun concert.

And I noted that in the event of a stampede, I could have out sprinted 99% of his fans.

That is of course if I did not trip over any of the walkers and wheelchairs. 

10 Lessons Learned From Steve's 50th:

“Be careful not to let yourselves become occupied with too much feasting and drinking and with the worries of this life, or that Day may suddenly catch you."
~Luke 21:34

1."Drop off Catering" means to order food from a catering service, where they deliver it but don't serve it.  Say this at the very beginning of your inquiry so that the catering people don't make pushy appointments to do a home inspection. (True story: I had to cancel a company because they wanted to do a site evaluation of my house. drop off catering, drop off catering...remember that term.)
The caterer that didn't need to give my home a rectal, got the job and they were excellent. (thanks ck)

2. 10 cases of beer, 4 cases of wine and 10-12 bottles of various liquor is sufficient for 80 people.

3. For a special event like a 50th b-day, splurging on a bartender and two servers is worth it.

4. Throwing a party is a very good motivator to clear the house of clutter.

5. Prepping the house for the party, has saved the rabbit's life.  The rabbit's relocation from our dining room to our second floor turned out to be a good move.  Now that G has to navigate around his large enclosure to get to her bedroom or bathroom, she remembers to feed and water him.

6. Knowing that you will host a dozen people to stay over after the party, forces you to really clean well, or get creative in disguising your mess.

7. Speaking of creative and unusual, setting up food in an unlikely place (our basement ping-pong room) prevented a bottle-neck sich.  In the unlikely event of another party this large,  it is good to remember to think outside the box.

8. It is good to stay sober if you are hosting a large party, so that if your teenager defies you in the middle of her dad's 50th bday celebration, i.e. does not come home at the assigned time, don't freak out. Just jump in the car and get her. (#sogladIwassober)

9. Do set aside the desire to wring the daughter's neck until after the last guests departure the next afternoon, because you must:

10. Be ready to sing karaoke or play ping pong after the party until 4 am.


Glad you had a Happy Birthday, Steve.

First Post Of 2015

I did not know that I enjoy biscotti.

But apparently I do. 

I am not worried since I have been exercising everyday since the new year began.

Everyday.

My friend SL informed me that everything we do on the first of the year must be something we want to be able to do through out the rest of the year.

So on January 1st, I made the effort to stay away from my biscotti stash.

Also I set goals for myself and exercising everyday was one of them.

I don't mean a full blown daily work out. 

Some days it's a 30 to 45 minute run or a 20 minute walk or just 10 crunches. 

Everything counts when it comes to making exercising a habit. 

I have discovered that I need exercise in order to stay upright.

I have been meditating and praying every single day.

I've also been clearing my home of unnecessary belongings.

My goal is to donate items every single week.

The moment I pick out a donation item, I move it to my porch to await pick up by the Veterans.

I am trying to shed my practical nature of saving something I might potentially want in the future.

I am trying to live in the present moment.

The act of sorting through and letting go of material possessions is very therapeutic by the way.

For each bag or box I am able to give away, there seems to be a release of emotional baggage as well.

~~~~~

In less than a month Steve is turning 50.
The process of trying to clear out my home has, alas, turned it upside down and inside out.
The expression, sometimes you have to break something in order to fix it is quite true.
Unfortunately, Steve's milestone is not going to wait for me to finish my house overhaul, and so amidst all this, I am planning a party for him.
The problem is, I have not thrown a party in years. I am rusty.
I am focusing on not giving in to feelings of overwhelm.
I know that if I were to act remotely taxed or stressed, then that would not feel good for Steve.
So I just keep daily small goals:
-Dechristmasing the house completely (yesterday, I put away the decorations at the property and this morning, I took down the last of the outside lights and garlands of our home here).
-Researching food and drink options.
-Texting invites, etc.
-Clearing out stuff, including polishing off the last of the biscotti.

~~~~~
We made an unplanned visit to our property yesterday.
Just a day trip.
The girls were interested in searching for a frozen pond to skate on, while Steve wanted all of us to hike through the snow in search of a dead bear we had heard about.
I had been feeling slightly off recently and in an effort to do something
"as a family," we decided to jump into the car and go.
We found both, a patch of frozen in the woods that the girls skated on, and the dead bear.
Natural ice rink, lovely.
Dead bear, not too lovely.

~~~~~
A few days ago, I found out that the little girl I had been praying for since last month, died in her mother's arms.
I was heartbroken.
So in an effort to stay mentally healthy, I decided to just keep on cleaning out my house.
When prayer or exercise is not enough, occupational therapy is good.

While sorting through the bowels of this house I bumped into old photos, which gave me the idea to start a 50th birthday picture collage.
It was while I was looking through Steve's old photos that I found this:

A picture of him as a four year old boy standing to the right of that red feather Christmas tree.

There was something about the death of the little girl and finding this particular photo of Steve that switched something in me.
First, I realize how precious life is and that is a gift to be able to celebrate 50 years (especially for Steve, who as a young boy was not given a good prognosis due to kidney disease)
And then second, yesterday, when I was putting away the Christmas decorations at the hunting place, I found myself not just tolerating the red feather Christmas tree, but loving it.
Loving it.
Somehow, seeing this red tree survive life reassures me that some things are just meant to be.

Funny

#someonetippedofftheelk. 

#themcoloradoelkarestealthy

#myfriendzinger

#horsewithnoname

21.

It was a very full and beautiful day.
A run.
An answered prayer.
An absolutely delicious celebration at Umi.

My Guppies

The girls wrote letters to their dad to give to him today, for his birthday.
K hid her letter in the ice tray, so that when Steve prepared his Big-Gulp sized diet Pepsi before leaving for work today--he would find it.
He did.
G put hers on his car seat late last night.
He found it that too, before driving away.

I was not "in" on the creative way they were going to be presenting their birthday letters to him.
In fact neither of them knew what the other did as well.
I was in the kitchen when Steve found the letter in the ice, and I got such joy from the surprise.
So did he.
He did not read it right away. He quickly stuck it in his pocket to be enjoyed later.

G's implementation, was not so simple.
She decided that going out the front door to put it in his car would make too much noise last night.
So she decided to go out the back door.
Unfortunately several inches of snow and ice kept the driveway gate stuck shut so instead she decided to CLIMB OVER the, maybe 6 foot hight high gate, in the middle of the night.
She said she ended up landing on the garbage cans on the other side of the gate.

I am in awe of the thoughtfulness and action put into their notes of love to their dad.
Those are true gifts and expressions of love.
That makes me happy.

And in honor of Steve's birthday, the four of us went to see Wicked.

Folic Acid, Rabbits and Being 'In the Moment"

As a result of being 'in the moment' I recently had to start taking Folic Acid.

You know--Just In Case. (insert wide open eyes here)

The other day, our neighbor Gregg, knocked on the door.

Apparently, he had discovered an orphaned baby rabbit in his garden.

After pondering the options and fate of the quivering animal he decided to go across the street and present this to us.

Luck was on Gregg's side, because had I been the first line of defense, the scene would have been completely different.

In ventriloquistic fashion I would have ordered him off our porch with the directive to never speak of the encounter.

But Steve answered the door.

"baby rabbit?"

His eyes lit up with a conspiratorial twinkle. "I'll go and get K and G."

Steve is a completely "in the moment" type of father.

If you combine this trait with his desire for his children to have fun, mixed in with his own

Peter Pan-esque quality, you have the type of lone adult you see at a backyard barbecue surrounded by kids in a raucous game of kickball, a water balloon bomb fight--or an energetic game of destructive dodgeball (he once put the imprint of his butt on our basement drywall.)

This---THIS--is also how we ended up owning an RVOUS.

(Recreational Vehicle Of Unusual Size)

But I digress.

When K, G and their friends walked in with a box carrying the frightened bunny, I called upon my own wobbly skill of being 'in the moment'.

I had not factored in baby rabbit care during my kid-free week.

(Both. Girls. Leave. For. A. Week. Of. Summer. Camp. Today.)

Upon further research, the care for a baby bunny called for feeding it some special formula every three hours with a baby bottle.

The words BABY BOTTLE jumped out at me.

I kept my inner-freakout-scream in check.

Considering my latest dietary supplement, I was hoping that this was not a sign of things to come.

Not only was I not hoping to shop for baby supplies during my planned week of quiet, but

I was also not looking forward to having the life of this feeble looking rabbit in my hands.

But I decided to keep a space between myself and my thoughts.

Lately, I have been trying to learn how to just "hold the knowing."

I did not overreact (I don't think) and instead calmly waited to see how the whole thing played out.

Steve took all the kids to the pet store, ostensibly to get supplies and instructions.

When they got to the store, the clerk advised them to turn the bunny over to the Wild Life Center where it would have more chance of surviving (I swear I did not pay this clerk).

Despite the fact that K and G really wanted to keep the bunny--they chose to give it a better chance at the Wild Life Center.

Although the Rabbit Chapter of our life started without much thought or preparation, its swift ending allowed me to suddenly appreciate the qualities of Steve that make him a great dad.

Steve's hair trigger finger on fun balances out my difficulty in being an "act now--details later" type of parent--

When these girls are old they will remember that they had a dad that played with them, a dad that had complete empathy for what it was like to be a kid, motivated them to be the best they can be, provided for a life not lacking for anything, drove the fun RVOUS (which we sold just yesterday, thus ending the RVOUS chapter of our life--which, cutting a long story short--gives me the capacity to focus on his positive qualities)

They will remember him as being able to shrug off things that might have made me crazy.

They will remember that they could always-- always-- count on their dad to alter my propensity for rigid mothering.

They will remember a dad that was dependable and consistent.

They will remember a dad that cared for his family.

Most important, they will remember that they had a father that they were proud of.

I still don't know how the Folic Acid Chapter is going to end

(will know in about
48 hoursmake that 23 hours) but what I do know is this--

If that brief rabbit fostering stint is in fact a sign of things to come (insert wide open eyes here), I have no doubt that Steve will be the best dad ever.

Happy Father's Day, Steve.

Waiting to Exhale at 1 AM

I wore this while waiting for Steve to get his Kidney stones harvested.
It is SL's 'Prayer Labyrinth' necklace.
When Steve handed me his wedding ring for safe keeping, I slipped it onto the borrowed necklace.
I got so many compliments for it in the waiting room. I think I may have stumbled on a great jewelry design.
I find it interesting that everybody loves unusual and unique yet for the most part we all secretly strive to be just like everyone else. This keeps therapists in business.
But I digress.
Calling Ureteroscopy and Lithotripsy "procedures" do not seem commensurate to the pain experienced during recovery.
And I am not even talking about Steve's pain.
Before they wheeled him to the OR,
I called out, "Tim says he loves you"
The Versed in his system must have kicked in already because instead of clearing up any confusion, he instead let out a belly laugh.
(Tim is Steve's brother, and that line is a private joke designed to make anyone within earshot think that Steve "bats for the same team.")
While in the surgery waiting room, the hospital provides a round vibrating pager, the type with red lights--you know the one, like what restaurants give you while waiting for a table.
Since we live nearby, I walked home and started cutting my hair.
By the time the hospital vibrator alarmed me I had trimmed a few inches.
I don't do very well with blood.
Especially blood accompanied by pain.
When I see it in places like--Steve's urine, his hospital bed, the bathroom floor, or spurting out of the back of his hand when the IV is removed--I get edgy.
But when I see him grimace every single time he goes to the bathroom I get the urge to cut off more of my hair.
Its been five days now since his surgery and I now have several layers off.
At one point yesterday I turned to him and said,
"why have we not prayed together for your pain?"
He looked at me and said:
God isn't giving me something that I can not handle.
While I admire his courage, strength and his selfless attitude I am really thinking that it is time to put an end to this.
If he does not start feeling better soon I will end up bald.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is now 1 in the morning, and he just left to go to the ER to get another IV put in to help manage the pain of flushing out his kidneys.
His pain is kicking his butt.

And yet he walked to the hospital.
I would have gone with him, or at least driven him there, but he did not want the girls left by themselves at this hour.
I can't sleep knowing that he is going through this.
So while waiting to hear from him I shall do laundry and yes, cut some more of my hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*He is back home. Still pissing out gravel.

Dear Charissa,

You will be happy to know that yesterday, Steve, Jimmy and Ayo planted two trees beside Dad's grave. Our brothers were extremely amused by what they called, Steve's style of "pogo stick jumping on the shovel" in order to dig the holes.
And to make up for that "frog incident in 1973" (that they still staunchly deny culpability)
They did discourage Steve from his plan to bury a fake skeleton hand for you to "unearth"
during your next gardening session at the cemetery.
Now that is brotherly love.
Just thought you should know.
Love you,
Chesca

The Birthday Storm

Steve had one birthday wish: a huge snow storm.

As the snow started coming down on the eve of his birthday,

his mood decidedly started picking up.

So picked up that, well we snuggled.

The two feet of snow that we woke up to suddenly converted Steve into a morning person.

He excitedly drove to work.

He dug, plowed through fallen trees and barely avoided landing in a ditch -- but made it safely to the hospital 25 miles away to make rounds.
Minor scratches to vehicle. The type that dirt would disguise nicely.
He was in such a great mood-- that he kept calling and waking me from
my slumber during his 6 AM commute with phrases like: "I ran into a tree!"

When he returned home, things were looking good for an afternoon delight when suddenly our furnace quit working.

The repair guy will not be in until tomorrow due to the city being in a 'state of emergency.'

Well, no state of emergency is going to stop us from steve's snow dance so tonight we will huddle with some friends with nothing but the comfort of alcohol to keep us warm.

Happy Birthday, Steve and since I know that nothing can top this birthday storm--

as an added bonus, I will leave you to enjoy your weather porn in peace.

Sixteen

Speechless.

A Big Heart

Steve was on his way home the other night, when he noticed a blind man walking with bags of groceries.
One of the man's bags ripped and his groceries scattered all over the sidewalk.
Steve pulled over.
(Meanwhile, a young woman blasted her horn at him vexed that she had to clear 3 extra feet to pass Steve. Steve glared at her, motioning impatiently at her to get moving.)
When he got to the man, he felt the man's un-gloved hands were freezing.
Other than the sub-zero temperatures outside,
one of the plastic bags had twisted around the man's wrist stopping blood from circulating.
Steve collected the blind man's groceries and offered to drive him home.
When they got to the place, Steve carried the groceries up to the house.
When he led the man out of the car, the man felt his way around with his cane and then told Steve that they were in the wrong place.
Perhaps faulty driving directions were the result of the blind man not used to being driven around.
So Steve loaded the man and the groceries back into the car and finally got him to the right address.
He carried the bags up flights of steps--past a menacing man staring at them in the stairwell of the building--and got the man settled in his darkened apartment.

This is why I love Steve.

Pillow Talk

Me: "Steve, that was the best cure for my insomnia--I have not slept that well in a long time.
It was mind boggling!"
Steve: "Well, then you know what you can expect?"
Me: "What?"
Steve: "A good night's sleep about once every two weeks."
"Now.....don't you need to tell me something?"
Me: "Thank you?"
Steve: "No."
Me: "You are incredible?!?"
Steve: ---
Me: ---

Long Pause
(me racking my brains for more adjectives...)

Me: "Oh... Happy Birthday!!"
(I guess reveling in "a good night's sleep" can make one forget their spouse's birthday)

The Eagle has landed

Steve arrived this morning.
On the way home from the airport, we stopped at a quick store to buy a coke.
He said to me:
"I am going to go in with you, so that people will think you are a prostitute."
I said to myself:
("Let the games begin")
As we walked in I suddenly said in a very loud voice:
"ISTIB, YOR SO BERI HANSOM! LUS NAYT, BERI BERI NICE! TENK YOO POR TEKING ME HOOM WID YOU.!!!"

Steve: red faced and tongue tied.
chesca =1
steve= 0.

When will he ever learn?



Lunch with my high school best friend, Nikki Lopez Benitez.

"The pop-in," with friends Jeremy and Marian Guiab.

Grade School bestest friend Marge Evangelista Jardiolin and Steve, in her beautiful home. (pictures here)

Dinner with Mariza Gatmaitan Custodio (My 5th grade best friend)
(More pictures here)