taste of Romania leads to Ecuador reminiscence

Apparently, there is a Romania ministry that the station is getting involved in.  Today they catered Romanian food to the station....and it was A LAWT.  The cabbage rolls were filled with something of a meat and rice amalgamation to be eaten with sour cream, there were sausages, and more than enough rum laced cakes.  I took plenty. [Oh, wait....there was also egg salad with green peas, carrots and....chicken??  Never had it that way before but it was surprisingly scrumptious!]

Alliance Academy

Driving back home [we're down to one car so I'm the taxi driver ...which means picking Mike up from work everyday] the whiff of which hinted of Ecuador.  Everytime mom had me go to a local bakery store to pick up a dessert, it always had rum in it.  It's like the constituent of Ecuadorian pastry.  It wasn't a moral issue for us.  I remember in my second year, in advanced band, it happened to be on my birthday that we all took a bus down the mountains and stayed at the church camp ground just minutes from the beach.  Mom sent me with a birthday cake from the bakery...and yes, it had some serious rum in it. Some how it rode very well under my seat all the way down the Andes.  In the little room next to the chapel we all shoved a lot of it in our sugar craved maws.  The next morning, I heard chimes of how the fruity rum-a-licous cake was releasing very strong redolence.  Oddly, this is actually one of my fond Ecuadorian reminiscence. 

Karen Fulgum, Dwight Kealy....I'm having a hard time remembering all the faces in the band.  Oh, wait...maybe it wasn't advanced band.  In any case, age seems to be getting the best of me on this memory. Darn. Maybe if I were to post some more pics on facebook, some friends would tag and that will help trigger.  Oh, I could just go look in my year book....yah.....

Facebooked:
JM: Yum! I know very well those cabbage rolls -- sarmale -- they are the signature Romanian dish . . . de-lish!! Give me some sarmale, salata de vinete (eggplant salad) and that fabulous Romanian bread, and I am transported. :)
23 minutes ago

stuck on sentimental...

Pathetically sappy and stuck in the 80's (music) with the yummy-licious memories they are attached to. Especially where tropical memories of the Philippines stay deeply rooted. There's no escape and I don't mind. Infact, there is where I like to escape to on rainy days....especially on rainy days.

Faces take center stage. Lots of special faces. The photographic memories of specific places and events. Juvenile childhood crushes (even those). Magnolia ice cream. Just the thought makes me lick my lips. Faith Academy musicals. What was the name of the theatre we rented for those and graduations? SIL pool. That big Christian fish painted on the bottom always scared me for some odd reason. The meals in the guest house. There was a crush that lived up in one of the apartments. Used to play tag around that building at night. Aunt Sadie. Is that how her name was spelled? She was such a dear! Beverly Hills. Such a lush green hilly neighborhood. Antipolo bowling ally with the ice cream shop next door...and next door to that the Worleys and the Dewings in the very early years. For a while church was at Faith Academy with all the dorms/dorm kids. Steve was great at leading the worship. His curly frizzy hair couldn't be missed. Then there were those early morning Sunday drives to Union Church. Children's choir practice after church every Sunday. Coffee and cookies...and donuts in between services and sunday school. You knew when the Boesels had arrived. Nan's jolly laughter could be heard through the halls and walls. Lunch out at McDonald's (big mac and fries were my usual), wendy's taco bell...etc after church. Capture the flag was a favorite game on FA campus. Can't seem to get rid of the memorable sting of fire ants off a tree I hugged in the dark of the night during a staff meeting. Fortunately, none found their way under my knee bandage that was covering my stiched up knee from weeks before....

Hot coffee, hot cocoa, margarita....none of these things can satisfy this sappy heart as I look back on those years in tearful sentiment knowing full well they are gone forever. But only gone in time. Fortunately, not in memory. I suppose the regret of not having been able to finish out my childhood in the Pacific, on my favorite islands, and the souls behind the faces is even more painful. The relationships that should've been allowed to grow together....oh, the painful reget.

a pocket full of yum

Half moon shaped, golden brown, hot and so aromatic...the taste buds are dancing in anxious anticipation. That crispy fried goodness should not be made to wait. Because if it is, it will wither in cold displeasure. These were a favorite in Quito. Thank God for internet and all the chefs around the world, that shine without the help of a television crew, and freely share their local culinary art.

As seen in the photo, I certainly remember enjoying them from street vendors. To savor the moment, one has to forget, for that short time of indulgence, what possible artery clogging ingredients these local street goodies may be holding. Whatever they may be (i.e. lard), they sure is heck add that undeniably delectable flavor. Worth much more than the dirt cheap out-of-pocket price.

But I must say, an empanada is just not an empanada without the cheese. And for those that can't shut off the health conscious voice, barking into their right ear, one can still cut back on the lethal indulgence by simply enjoying just a cheese empanada. Lite, airy and less stressful on the digestive system...and possibly all other vital organs. And while on the subject, make sure to enjoy one with a margarita. That probably takes it over the top. I've just made several dozen of these. So, there's plenty of time for that double indulgence.

And should I live long enough, I could make some culinary music by trying my hand on a desert version. How about some apple pie-like empanadas? As the queen in the world of Alice in Wonderland would probably say, "off with her health!" This kind of stuff may be the death of me. At least I will die happy.

Life is short....life is fragile.....

Dom Duarte died yesterday. He shared very little on facebook any medical issues he had....but from that very little, I believe it was due to medical complications. He will be sorely missed by so many he served with. He ran the race well feeding, sheltering and sharing Christ's love with the homeless of Union County, NC. Danielle was Daddy's girl. I remember that very well. Poor gal. I'm sure she will be crying a lot for days and weeks...and months to come.

So, my last memory with him.....
Over thirteen years ago Mike and I ran into him in the elevator of the Monroe Hospital on our way up to the second floor to bring our first born into the world. He took our hands and prayed with us.

Childhood Sentimental Sappiness At it's Best

So carefree and oblivious to the grown up world around us

The songs of childhood we lived.

The sounds of laughter

Echoed through the school halls

And flooded onto the playground.

There was little to fear but fear itself.

Where are you now?

Do you remember our childhood days?

I remember the laughter

And I remember the tears.

Could you still love me now for the person I am

Or would we be too different to relive

The joy of being friends?

I still live in the sentiments of years gone by.

Especially when fond memories of you

Are delightfully caught in my mind's eye.

You of kindred spirit I still can't forget

You took pieces of me that longs to be free.

Free to find those moments in time

That only in memories can be found.

As time fades and I grow with age

Such cozy memories seem to find shade.

That's where my mind's eye squints and wonders

If memory's shadows will grow darker or larger.

If I ponder too long

My heart no longer appears to be strong.

The tears come as hope of finding you again

Appear to be fading .....yet again.

Starlit Bliss

It had been nearly two blissful weeks of only one child with the other four still in Iowa with their Lola and Tita. Although, we didn't get as much done as we would've liked, we had a very nice quiet two weeks. Maverick came out of his baby shell and started to verbalize so much more. Twice he was dropped off at a babysitters. Both times he enjoyed the social independence and getting to know other little people his size and age. He actually didn't want to leave when we picked him up. It was beautiful.

After another quiet dinner [the night before Dylan, Tyler, Victoria and Sierra came home] I was inspired by the clear starlit sky to go lay down on the trampoline. The cool crisp air was so refreshing to the sinuses as the slight breeze whisked against my skin and night hungry face. The inspiration to follow was to slumber on the trampoline.

Under the covering of a sleeping bag I lay and spent cozy moments under the millions and billions of stars [99.9% I couldn't see with my naked eye]. For once I was enjoying the starlit sky the way anyone and everyone should. Indulgence into such beauty is incredibly refreshing to the psyche and the soul. Memories of "Outdoor Ed" flooded my sentimental mind. That's the week the Faith Academy middle schoolers spend away from home, in many little groups seeing many sites. The one and only year I experienced was in my last year at Faith Academy in 86. Amidst the Philippine Revolution and several days out of school [from the republic hubbub of it all] we hadn't missed enough days to keep us from the annual week-long trip.

On Corrigador Island we all had the choice of sleeping in the old tunnel where General Douglas McArthur had his headquarters during WW II or sleeping out on the open ground and air under the stars. I was one middle schooler not intrigued enough to be dared into sleeping in a tunnel that housed bats. This spurred on the fond memories of other hearts I hold dearly [and tightly] next to mine from that time in my life. Some may remember as much of that week, some many not. I wish I could still remember every moment in that time. For if I could, I'd relive those moments in time under the stars for as many nights as I can the rest of my life.

Never had I gazed at the stars long enough [in the past] to enjoy the wander of numerous satellites. There were quite a few on this night. Just as fascinating were the shooting/falling stars that would "fly" by like the quick stroke of a pen that didn't leave a mark.

The memories were so numerous enhanced by the awe of the starlit space above that I fought so hard to keep my tropical eyes open. Had I the power, they would've never shut. I would've visually indulged through the night. At one point I did wake up again to a much breezier moment and my heart and psyche were re-intrigued. The moon had shifted out of site behind the mountain. If it were possible, I would've taken my tongue and licked up my living picture.