Aaaarrrrrrr....

Some things should be left un-photographed. Some things should just be left to memory, even though you take the chance of not remembering every detail. Sometimes I'll be in a moment and think, "There is no way I could've captured this with a picture or video..." I've been having those moments lately. Some moments more voluntary than others.

Last week my older brother, and only sibling, came to town from Charlotte. We hadn't seen him over Thanksgiving (as is tradition) or Christmas, but he found a cheap flight to JFK Airport and plans were made. Since my daughter wasn't feeling good, my husband kindly offered to stay home with her as my son & I drove the 2 hours to the airport to pick up my brother, Kevin. (A.K.A. "Uncle Kevin".)

Another bonus of the timing of Kevin's visit: it was on the day of my son's 5th birthday. And we were going to be spending the day in New York City, our favorite place to go. Talk about a kid's dream come true!

We spent the majority of the afternoon looking for parking while stopping at a few places in between: Battery park and behind us a teeny-tiny Statue of Liberty; the construction at the World Trade Center site (ie. a huge hole in the ground with construction fencing around it); B & H media store (amazing!); buying two pounds of fresh cherries for $4 from a sidewalk vendor; and finally, bubble tea & cubed fish w/ bean curd sauce over rice in Chinatown. It was a great day.

Several times, when the sunlight hit our faces just right or we had a moment to pause and just breathe in the city (which some might consider gross), I thought, "This is just perfect! I could never capture this." There is something about realizing you are making a memory with every step that is surreal and beautiful.

The next day, Friday, was my son's birthday party. We decided to have only family over which included 3 cousin's near Keston's age. (I learned my lesson last year, after a maddening 2 hours being trapped in a basement with 8 four year olds...) The best part of the party was it's theme: pirates!

Keston wanted a "Pirates Who Don't Do Anything" cake, taken from a Veggie Tales movie he had recently seen. We kind of expounded on the theme and went all out: bedsheets draped all over the dining room walls & ceiling for ambiance; a treasure chest full of chocolate "dubloons" and strings of "bling" for my daughter & niece (which ironically the boys ended up donning); eye patches, temporary pirate tattoos & costumes; and my favorite, instead of cake, individual brownie "ships", each with a mast & pirate sails, blue icing for water and malt 'cannon' balls. Our house was crowded, and we had such a great time!

Well, to continue on the theme of "too magical for photographs", my son's 5th birthday party ties in beautifully. The "fancy" camera we borrowed from a friend to photograph the entire bash had a corrupt memory card. And the next day, when we attempted to retrieve the photos, they were all gone. Gone were the candid laughs, our son as "Black Hand Jack" (his pirate name for himself), Great Granny with a tattoo on her arm, my brother's visit, the ambiance, the cousins, Uncle Ben & Aunt Rose in full-on pirate costumes, and the fleet of brownie pirate ships.

I have to admit, I was really disappointed.

But after realizing there was nothing to be done, I remembered the golden winter day in New York City with my son and brother. I didn't have any photographs of that day, but I knew I would remember it for a long time. And why couldn't Keston's birthday be the same? I'm sure he will remember everyone coming over to celebrate his young life. He'll remember dressing up like a pirate and saying "aaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr" for most of the evening. And he'll remember his Uncle Kevin coming all the way from Charlotte to be there for the party.

So, with reluctance and a weak smile, another special day gets chalked up to the memory bank. And I'm sure I'll remember it as being even more magical than it actually was. If that's possible...

Chateau

Glass cleaner: check. Toilet bowl cleaner: check. Nasty sponge you only use in the bathroom after it has deteriorated from use in the kitchen: check. Rubber gloves so you don't have to touch nasty sponge: check. You guessed it: we're having people to stay over and I'm cleaning.

I've never been one of those compulsive clean freaks. In fact, if you're reading this and we were roommates in college, you're probably laughing that snort-type laugh right now. But I'm also not a slob. Like any "creative type", I can live with a certain amount of "chaos" before it gets to me. And I usually need some encouragement to get me motivated. Like having people over.

The crazy thing is that once our place is glossy and glistening, I absolutely love it and vow to keep it that way forever! And not that I want to use my kids as an excuse...but...well, children are messy and sticky. And they do tend to drag toys from room to room. And they kind of bring the glistening factor down quite rapidly.

My husband and I work hard to keep our downstairs level as "adult space". Meaning, we don't allow our kids to bring their toys downstairs or make every room a play room. But the upstairs gets a little cluttered from time to time. In fact, as I type this, these are the "invaders" of my room, an "adult space":

-Wooden push toy on a stick with a clown that turns his head as it moves
-child-sized acoustic guitar
-several 18-month-sized socks that my daughter has shed
-pink polka-dot diaper bag
-small wooden alligator that belongs in a "noah's ark" set


Now, at the end of every day (and actually, several times a day!) all these items will be returned to their proper homes (ie. bedrooms) and the hallways will be clear again. We like our home clutter-free. And I like it squeaky clean too. Heck, the list of chemicals under my kitchen sink would shock a pharmacist! But I think I just need more outside motivation. In other words, people need to come stay with us more often!

So, dare I announce "Le Chateau de Buczek" is officially open? Well, after January 24th, that is. Until then, we're booked...

2009

I went to a discount store yesterday and bought a 2009 calendar with butterflies on it. The only other choices for monthly "adoration" were: cars, cats, country scenery, or "I Love the 90s", which I was not quite ready to re-live yet. But hey, for $1.99, I could handle butterflies.

As I was putting the calendar up on the wall, I remembered telling my husband how much I dreaded writing my first "2009" since I don't like uneven year numbers...1995, 2007... Somehow odd years seem more annoying to write out, especially since I cross my sevens. He thought that was pretty petty, and I half-heartedly defended myself. "Just wait 'til 2017! It'll be sooooooo annoying", he said sarcastically.

I guess I've always had a "thing" with numbers.

In 2007 when my daughter was about to be born via c-section, the doctors asked me what date I would like to come in for the scheduled surgery. My ideal date was June 12th. It was such a nice round number and easy to remember since it's Philippine Independence Day. (I'm an American who grew up in the Philippines.) Sadly, the 12th being a Sunday, c-sections were not being scheduled that day. But happily, she was born on June 8th, still satisfactory.

I don't know what it is about even numbers. I'm not superstitious or anything and don't believe in luck. And actually, there was a time when I was in a strange odd number phase. But it only pertained to my alarm clock.

My senior year of college, when I needed to wake up at a certain time, I wouldn't set my alarm for an even number. Instead of 7:30, I would set it for 7:27. A wake-up time of 9 a.m. became 8:57. Or 9:07, if I was planning to be lazy. It was a strange phase that only lasted a year.

And then there's my birthday: March 13th. I used to tell people I turned 13 on a Friday the 13th, like it was impressive or something. But since I don't believe in luck it was just kind of a fact I threw out to make conversation. Like mentioning you went to high school with the daughter of a B-list movie actor, or that you got lost at Disneyland when you were eight. Then I "wikipedia"-ed the year 1992, when I turned 13, and found out March 13th was a Thursday. There goes that novelty factoid.

In 7th grade, math was my favorite subject. In fact, I liked it so much I told everyone I wanted to be a math teacher. My teacher was really sweet, with wavy brown hair. I don't remember her name, but everything in that class just made sense. My love of math took a downturn, unfortunately, the next year. Due to carpooling "issues", I had to be home schooled for 8th grade, and with little-to-no parental supervision. (Long story...) So math and science went out the window, as well as history and some English. (I still have a huge void where geometry, Greek Mythology and astronomy should be.) Needless to say, I gave up wanting to be a math teacher and haven't been close to an algebraic equation since taking the "CLEP" test to get out of basic math in college.

Despite the love/hate relationship I've had with numbers since my youth, I guess I'm still optimistic about 2009. Hey, it could still be a great year, despite its oddity. A lot of big things are happening this year:

-My husband & I both turn 30
-My son turns 5 and will be starting Kindergarten
-My husband graduates from grad school (the end of a 7-year process)
-We will have been in full-time ministry (at the same church) for 5 years
-Celebrating our 8th wedding anniversary


And I'm sure there will be plenty of other surprises and disappointments in 2009. So, here's to all the odd (and even) moments of the New Year! May yours be blessed.

Christ-mas

"The only true gift is a portion of thyself." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

As Christ gave Himself over two thousand years ago, so we celebrate each day we are privileged enough to give a portion of ourselves away. It may be with time, acts of service, words of affirmation, physical affection or tangible gifts (thank you Gary Chapman of "The Five Love Languages"). Whatever it may be, it's beautiful. Belated Merry Christ-mas...

NYC

"Here in these deep city lights, a girl could get lost..." Sarah Bareilles sings those words in the song, "City". It's my current ringtone. And I've been humming it lately, not just because my phone rang a few minutes ago, but because we're heading to New York City tomorrow.

I can't explain the magical pull New York City has on me. And when I think of the Big Apple, it's in different ways, depending on the day. But I think anyone who's been there can admit there is no city like in the world. I've seen London, Tokyo, Vienna, Chicago, Hong Kong, Los Angeles, Manila, Paris, and many other global cities. There's really nothing like New York.

Sometimes, I imagine the city our immigrant relatives would have known. (My imaginings are in sepia, of course.) The dusty or muddy streets, the horse-drawn carriages, fewer tall buildings and much more affordable housing. I try to imagine stepping off a large boat, going through customs on Ellis Island and what it must have been like for someone to change your last name just because they couldn't hear you or spell it. Were my Irish & Italian relatives given coarse nicknames, based on the country they had just left in hardship and desperation? But that New York must have felt so alive, just as it does today, but more so, to contain the hopes of so many men and women starting a new life.

Jeff Buckley is one of my favorite singers. He plays a mournful rock guitar and wields his voice like a knife, sometimes scratching, sometimes cutting deep. He sounds like New York City to me. His version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" was recorded perfectly in one take, and evidently everywhere he played it in NYC, audiences would be as still as portraits. He died in 1997, drowned. But every time I listen to his music, I think of the New York of the 90s, kind of dirty, but prosperous. A slightly simpler time, before digital screens the size of sky scrapers were plastered all over Times Square. (I mean, wasn't that also the era of the Gap Khaki?)

There are so many other snapshots of the city, many of which are memories my husband & I and our kids have created:

-Battery Park and the view of a tiny Statue of Liberty in the summer
-Starbucks' hot cocoa on Thanksgiving weekend
-Times Square at 2 a.m. in May
-Little Italy and waiters shouting for us to come in to their restaurant
-Sweating while in line for bubble tea in Chinatown
-Pizza that only New Yorkers make (you have to fold it!)
-A carriage ride with my parents through Central Park
-Realizing "Dean & Deluca" isn't that big of a deal
-Stations of the cross in St. Patrick's Cathedral
-Ground zero just two months after Sept. 11, 2001
-That amazing square glass cube that leads to the Mac store
-A tiny Chinese restaurant at 10 p.m. on our 4th anniversary

Oh, too many to name...

It seems like every time we go to New York, we see a new side of it. Seriously, how could the world film so many movies there, and yet it never gets redundant? And I know living in New York would probably bring an undesired disenchantment. Kind of like working at Starbucks and making so many espresso drinks and frappuccinos that you never want to see another again, much less drink one.

But for now, getting ready for yet another adventure, another future-memory, I am full of hope and anticipation. I'm ready to be swept up int he magic again. And all there is left to say is:

I <3 N.Y.

Ramen

An ode to the best food created by mankind: ramen noodles.

There is a lot of controversy surrounding this unappreciated delicacy. First, pronunciation. Some say RAY-men, others RAH-men. However you say it, it's tasty. (Gentle hint: Asians say RAH-men.)

Another controversy is "soup or pasta". My husband likes to cook the curly noodles in water, then drain them and eat them like pasta, with marinara sauce or pesto. I, on the other hand, feel the only 'true' way to eat them is in a watery soup form. How else would those yellowish, lava-hot drips roll down your face and burn your chin? How else would you get that fabulous slurping sound? And how else could you withstand the saltiness in the powder that accompanies the noodles?

That last question was a sly segue to my final point:

A third controversy is "the packet": that little silver, sealed square of sodium deliciousness. Some mix it in with the cooked noodles, some mix it with the hot water to make broth, some use only half (wimps!) and the least dedicated ramen connoisseurs toss it in the trash, completely unopened. (To the latter, I recommend you swiftly purchase a can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, since you obviously can't handle your salt like a true ramen fan.)

Most Americans discover ramen in college, when the spending money runs low and campus cafeteria food is deemed inedible. But I first came to know and love ramen noodles as a child in the Philippines. My American parents moved there in 1984 and stayed for 13 years, serving God and others. I was four when we flew across the ocean to that beautiful, humid, hospitable and endearing country. And I was probably four when I tried my first soupy bowl of ramen. My favorite brand (one of several in the Philippines, and none in America that can compare) is "Lucky Me!". I remember chicken flavor had a bright yellow package, while beef had orange. I ate it often growing up, and by the age of 18, and a senior in high school, was having a bowl every day for lunch. Literally every single day. Good times.

But this whole "college food" label really gives ramen a bad wrap! It implies a lack of respectability, a sophomoric condescension, an inferiority to other "adult" foods. And if you haven't had it since college, then I beg the reader to give ramen another chance. Here, I'll set the scene for you:

It's mid-October, and the sun's been in hiding for two days. The air is getting crisp, and the leaves are starting to fall lazily from tree branches. You've started wearing your favorite sweater around the house, to save from turning on the heat for just a little bit longer. But your fingers are usually cold, and you're wearing two pairs of socks inside your fuzzy slippers to keep your feet warm.

And it's lunch time.

Just imagine: you crack that cream-colored brick of hard, wavy noodles in half, and drop it into a bowl. You pour water over it until the bowl is almost full, and set it on the glass plate in the microwave, slamming the plastic door shut, and punch in 3 minutes. And then, you wait.

By the time you hear a high-pitched "beep, beep, beep", and pull the bowl out of the microwave, the water is steaming and the noodles are soft and translucent. Then, you tear open the packet of spices and shake the shiny brown powder over the noodles, stirring slowly. You can smell the broth, the noodles, the warmth. And as you pull the sleeves of your sweater over your hands to protect them from the heat as you carry the bowl over to the couch, you smile. Slowly sitting down, you blow on the broth to cool it before dipping your spoon in to enjoy the salty goodness.

Tell me honestly, does it get any better than that?! So this is my hand-typed plea: give ramen another try. Revisit this misunderstood soup that could serve as an appetizer, a main course, a snack, or all three! I'll bet you that a cold winter, uncomfortable relatives staying with you at Christmas, and heck, even an economic crisis won't get you down while you're enjoying this fabulous food...

Top 40

Every week when Sunday night rolls around, I think to myself: "Great...another Monday. This week will be just like last week. There is nothing new under the sun." I have this problem. I really live from one "exciting thing" to the next. The days in between events are spent looking forward to the next interesting thing. And that is no way to live!

So, here is my list of 40 things to look forward to on an ordinary day. Kind of like finding joy in the mundane. These are in no particular order. Here goes:

1. Hugs from my kids. All day.
2. Coffee (mmmmmmm....)
3. Catching up with family & friends on facebook
4. Going to Target just to browse
5. My favorite pen
6. Spending alone time with God when the kids are napping
7. Stopping by the pet store to check out the puppies
8. My black flip-flops (or as I call them in Filipino, "chinelas")
9. Grilled cheese sandwiches
10. The smell of dryer sheets
11. Loud music filling the house
12. Running for 30 minutes straight
13. Playing guitar
14. Working hard to have a clean house
15. Making Coconut Curry Chicken for dinner
16. Shoes lined up by the door: my husband's big ones down to our toddler's tiny ones
17. Looking through old photographs
18. Talking to a friend on the phone
19. Planning out guitar lesson curriculum
20. Journaling
21. Peeking in on my sleeping kids (so quiet!)
22. Chewing gum
23. Wearing my cozy gray sweater
24. Free samples at the grocery store
25. 50% off day at the Salvation Army
26. Watching my daughter try on my heels
27. Checking the mailbox
28. Family dance party in the living room
29. Having a good hair day
30. Bananas & peanut butter
31. Metropolitan Home magazine
32. Doing one more push-up than the day before
33. Observing my kids sharing
34. Chocolate chip cookies & milk
35. My chunky, purple glass ring
36. Hanging out with girlfriends
37. Finding enough spare change to get an iced coffee
38. Cool "free song of the week" on iTunes
39. Freshly swept floor
40. Sunlight streaming through the windows

Wow--that's a pretty good list. I'm really looking forward to tomorrow! Got any you want to add?...