First of all:

I wish everyone a Happy, Prosperous, Peaceful and Safe New Year!!!!

Thoughts for New Year:

Choose to love—rather than hate. ~

Choose to smile—rather than frown. ~

Choose to build—rather than destroy. ~

Choose to persevere—rather than quit. ~

Choose to praise—rather than gossip. ~

Choose to heal—rather than wound. ~

Choose to give—rather than take. ~

Choose to act—rather than delay. ~

Choose to forgive—rather than curse. ~

Choose to pray—rather than despair.

I don’t like listing down New Year’s resolutions. I always forget where I put the list anyway.

It has been customary for people to equate change and fresh start with new year - hence the practice of making New Year’s resolutions. But I believe that resolutions can be made anytime of the year.

I do have plans though, one of which is to visit my parents more often. They are now old. Tatay is 87, Nanay is 86. Tatay’s memory is now fading fast. So is his appetite for food. Last Christmas, he asked: “What day is today?” When we arrived at the family home for our traditional Christmas breakfast - as I gave him a hug - he inquired: “Who are you?” And he skipped Christmas breakfast.

Another important plan is to refurbish and reorganize my house and work place - something I have long wanted to do. I want to be more organized and efficient not only for the new year but all throughout. And the best way I know to achieve this is by putting my house and work place in good order. Well, happily, I have actually already started working on this last week.

What about you? Got any plans, projects or wishes?

Again, Happy New Year to all !!! Hurry, blow the trumpets! Bring in the fireworks!

Christmas gift suggestions:

To your enemy, FORGIVENESS.

To an opponent, TOLERANCE.

To  a friend, YOUR HEART.

To a customer, SERVICE.

To all, CHARITY.

To every child, A GOOD EXAMPLE.

To yourself, RESPECT. (Oren Arnold)

A Blessed Christmas to all!

by Mita Q. Sison-Duque

ONE of the first “Seasons” columns I wrote for the Manila Bulletin pinpointed to an enemy of progress and well-being in our country. It was not the oil embargo, the inflation, nor the burgeoning world population, although the three could easily be contributory to the problem. Neither was it drugs, family disunity or education, or the lack of it. The Enemy, was Poverty.

We are not strangers to Poverty, but one that we had developed tolerance for in our everyday lives, through layers of generations, living or witnessing it. Little did I imagine that sometime in the future, The Enemy would rear its ugly head more tragically than what was possible, at the time, if only to make a point. Already, Poverty is being pointed to as the direct cause of a recent tragedy. I often imagined how we Filipinos, we of strong faith, could tolerate such difficulties without complaining, and for some more graphically than others, for its poverty even in the midst of plenty. (Continue reading…)

This bracelet rosary I bought for myself in Manaoag Church here in Pangasinan two Sundays ago. My daughter egged me on visiting the shrine of the miraculous Virgen Milagrosa de Manaoag, for want of spiritual upliftment before going back to school for the second semester. Also, she wanted to buy some religious items to give as tokens to her classmates who are going for a six-month internship in Beijing, China at the end of November.

Here are more items we bought:

Mini rosaries

Bracelet with crucifix for my mother who, at 86, still fancies wearing bead necklaces and bracelets. And oh, that is my chubby wrist in picture by the way.

_________________________

I am not really a devout Catholic, but my daughter is. She religiously goes to church every Sunday and is in fact a very active member of the Filipino-Chinese Catholic Youth. Most of the time, she admonishes me: “Mama, bakit hindi ka nagsisimba?” (Mama, why don’t you want to hear mass?)

Not that I don’t want to. But I just can’t move my butt to go to church on Sundays, especially when I have to do the marketing and grocery shopping on these days. These tasks just stress me a lot because when I get home after shopping, I have to arrange everything in the cabinets and refrigerator. You see, I usually make it a point to have everything ready for cooking before storing them in the ref. This means marinating the pork chops; segregating the chicken in packs in such a way that one pack is good for one cooking; washing and draining the fish and so on, aside from cleaning the refrigerator and at the same time getting rid of expired left overs. Hence, by the time I finish, I am already too tired that I just want to sleep the whole afternoon.

But I do pray. I have a quiet time and place, known to nobody but me. And I have great trust in God.

I also recite the rosary. I believe in the intercession of the Blessed Mother, especially when someone in the family is ill.

Religious articles such as those in the above photos are just objects. Many non-Catholics question (or mock) the Catholics’ veneration of such objects. However I beg to disagree. For me, it is not the beads that I venerate when I say the Holy Rosary. It is not the wooden statue that I worship when praying before an image. To me, all these “objects” are merely symbols. And my faith is not on the symbol itself but on what the symbol stands for.

Live and let live. Peace I give to all.

If you have noticed, I have a new design. For this, I thank Wilson, my techie friend.

It was Wilson who introduced me to blogging… err… it was blogging that introduced me to Wilson. Oh well. Whichever way - either the chicken or the egg came first - doesn’t change the fact that Wilson is certainly the guy behind the creation of this blogsite.

If not for Wilson, I wouldn’t be here blogging my blues and thoughts away and sharing/exchanging comments with my readers out there. If not for him, I wouldn’t have met new friends online and offline, nor discovered more things I thought I knew but did not in fact know about.

Who would think that a techno-challenged mom like me who knew nothing more than sending and retrieving emails in the internet would someday be a blogging mom? Cool. Yeah. My kids initially showed repulsion about my getting into blogging. But to my amusement - they even now suggest topics for me to blog about. And I think they also love it when I feature them in my posts. Hehe.

So for all the joys that blogging has brought me, and for this new design, maraming salamat, Wilson!

(Note: Wilson Chua is the president of Bitstop Inc. a company based in Dagupan City which provides various computer technology services in Pangasinan and other parts of the country and has been operating since 1989, making it one of the pioneer companies providing such services in this city.)

Now, on to a gastronomic topic.

My favorite native veggie dish:

Here is my favorite native veggie dish.

The way it’s cooked, I should say - is very Ilocano. Very Ilocano in the sense that it’s not sauteed. You see, genuine Ilocanos never sautee or stir fry their vegetables. They just bring water to a boil, dump all the ingredients at the same time in the pot then let it simmer till everything is perfectly done.

I can hardly speak Ilocano. Basit laeng (just a little). But my maternal grandmother was a pure Ilocana. It was probably from her that I got my Ilocano taste.

I believe that when it comes to food, Filipinos have varied preferences. I call it the “regional taste” which is much like the regional differences amongst us Pinoys who are spread in all the 7,100 islands of our glorious country. For instance, the Pampangos and Tagalogs prefer their vegetable dishes sauteed in little oil or butter. Only few of them can probably appreciate an Ilocano vegetable dish that is simply boiled and seasoned with salt or bagoong.

The veggie dish you see above (called “dinengdeng” in Ilocano dialect) was cooked by my husband. There, I admitted it. LOL! Let’s just say that I can’t eat what I cook. I guess this is a common phenomenon. Thus, one time when I suddenly had a craving for this particular vegetable dish, I requested my hubby to cook.

So, do you want to know how he prepared it? Here’s how: (Continue reading…)

I have a revelation to make.

My husband was not my first boyfriend. Oh well - that is not surprising, I know. In fact it is as ordinary as ordinary and normal as normal - at least - based on today’s standards.

However, our case was quite different. I was currently engaged when he wooed me. My boyfriend and me that time were on a cool off period - sort of testing how the physical and geographical separation would affect our relationship.

Then I met my future husband. It was a whirlwind courtship we had. And up until now, I can’t understand what power he cast on me that made me say yes to him and break off with my then boyfriend. We met in July 1980, got engaged in November, married in civil rites in December of the same year and wed in church in March of 1981. I was literally swept off my feet and before I knew it - I was living in a new world.

Soon, the kids started coming. We got busy and both our time was completely devoted to our growing family. We had no time to regret. No time to reflect. No time even to think of personal pleasures. True, there were many instances we had fights and threatened separations. But we loved our children so and neither he nor I could bear the thought of breaking our family and consequently breaking our children’s hearts.

It’s been twenty six years. Lately, I often find my husband in a reflective mood. Sometimes he asks me questions he never asked before. And one of these is: “Do you love me?”

Do I love him?

I admit, dumping my boyfriend did not come easy. After all, we had three full years of relationship behind us. But I believed it was all God’s will. God knew that my future with my boyfriend was uncertain so He gave me the one really meant for me.

But do I love him?

“Do you love me?” he insists to know.

For my answer, click here.

To my husband: I hope this issue will now rest in peace.

Last ‘Undas’ when all my three kids were home and we were one whole family again, I was constantly on my toes as each one of them would call out “Mama” almost at the same time all the time.

“Ma, si Kuya o – ayaw akong pahiramin ng PSP niya!” Gem squealed.

“Ma, magluto ka ng masarap na ulam!” Aypee requested.

“Ma, ang gulo nitong dalawa, o – nagtatrabaho ako dito, e!” Marco complained.

And to think they are not little kids anymore! Marco, 25, Aypee, 23 and Gem, 17!

The whole time that they were all here, the living room was transformed into a dining and sleeping area. A mattress was laid in the middle, where Marco slept when tired from working with his laptop, and where they would all wrestle when someone threw a challenge. “Kuya Aypee, wrestling tayo! Ang mananalo, siya ang maglalaro sa PSP!” Can you imagine Gem doing that dare? But of course, I had to stop them. “Gem, huwag kang sumali sa laro ng mga lalaki. Masasaktan ka lang.”

Aaah! Everything was a mess!

Jeez! I think I will seriously consider constructing a separate room/office for me on the second floor of our house. Then I can have all the peace I need and want when bugged by my three overgrown tots. That is – if they don’t hound me there too. Hehe.

“Happiness is a bowl of warm soup.”

WHEN someone in the family has a cold and no appetite for food, I usually prepare some hot soup and serve it to them in one of these happy faced bowls for I believe that these bowls can somehow condition their minds to make them feel better and lighter.

Incidentally one of my sons is not feeling well right now - not from any physical illness, but from a bruised soul. I knew it was an Icarian move he was taking, but he refused to be stopped. And how could I prevent him from following what he perceived was the right decision for his future? He is of age, way past his teens, and as the law says - emancipated.

Anyhow, as I was cleaning the cupboard the other day, and as I took out these happy bowls to get washed, I thought of the times when I would heat up a bowl of soup and give it to him whenever he had a cold. Almost instantly, he would be relieved with the steam from the hot soup which apparently helped unclog his stuffy nose.

How quick and simple it was to cure an ailing child. Sadly however, life’s twists and turns get more complicated in time and for my son, I know it will take more than a bowl of soup to heal his wounded wing.

* * * *

Flashback

When my two boys were little, they - particularly Marco - could be very picky with their food. And as a mother wanting to give her children proper nourishment during their formative years, I would employ different tactics in order to make them eat right.

One of the tactics which was quite successful was telling them kiddie stories that I invented as they ate. However, since it was really difficult to make them sit down before the dining table and eat by themselves, I would spoon feed Aypee while the househelp would attend to Marco.

Me: (In a highly animated voice) And the lion roared so loud it frightened the other animals in the jungle. The mighty lion screamed at them: “Everyone should eat, do you hear?” And all the other animals were so afraid of the King Lion.

Marco: Then what happened, Mama?

Aypee: What’s their lunch?

Me: Oh, they had lunch just like this one you are having right now. Vegetables, fish, rice.

Aypee: (Now holding his toy airplane) They drank milk too?

Me: Oh, yes! They drank milk and nobody in the jungle was allowed to sleep until they have drunk their milk!

Marco: (Now assembling Lego blocks) They also take Nutroplex? (Nutroplex is a daily multi-vitamins for kids)

Me: Yes, of course. Okay, now, open your mouths and eat some more, so the King Lion won’t roar.

Sometimes, I would pretend that we were in the jungle:

Me: Come on, come on - eat this now. Look - the King Lion is watching. Open and show King Lion your big mouths.. That’s it.. aahh… amm! Very good!

And so it went on and on until the last morsel was gone from their plates. Whew!

I chuckle as I remember those yesteryears’ scenarios when we would follow them around at feeding time from the dining to the living room and even to the bedroom. Yet I held on to dear Patience because the whole feeding process sometimes took two hours!

Some years later when my daughter arrived to the scene, I did not have to use the same strategy anymore to make her finish her food. Gem as a toddler was a more disciplined eater. I could make her have her meals on the dining table. No qualms. She would use the spoon and fork on her own, and refused to be spoon fed. All I had to do was prepare her food on a plate or a bowl, position her in her high chair and she would then voluntarily feed herself.

Oh, memories just keep flooding my mind these days…

Note: The following is one of my favorite English poems. It actually became popular as a song in the 1770s.

Want to hear its tune? Click here:

Drink to me only with thine eyes

Song to Celia by Ben Jonson

Drink to me only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine.
Or leave a kiss within the cup
And I’ll not ask for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sip,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much hon’ring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be;
But thou thereon did’st only breathe,
And sent’st it back to me,
Since when it grows and smells, I swear
Not of itself, but thee.