FUNNYACCENT

Making Senses In the Kitchen

Last Sunday I met a friend at a cafe' in a Barnes and Noble bookstore in Prudential. He was witty, intelligent and most of all a modest man. He drank coffee, I drank chai and we talked about a lot of things. He told me his trips to Russia, took a 4 days Trans-Siberia train ride, then to a trip to China and Mongolia.

He told me he cooked turkey a week after the Thanksgiving, made the sandwiches from the left over and saved the bones for a stock.

I teased him about eating Turkey everyday, one day he woke up and talked turkey.

I told him about my childhood favorite dishes, about the fruitcake, about my fluffy pancakes, about the times when I had a strong sniff of steamed lepat labu in a subway, and he said: "Do you know that you talk a lot about food?

"You describe in details how you prepare your food, the aroma in your kitchen, the way you slice the onions, how you like to rinse the basmati rice three times, the way you arrange your spices in a little bowl, so rich and so c0lorful. I actually can see myself standing in a corner in your kitchen watching you move around, dropping your pots and pans."

I put down my chai cup. "Really?"

He nodded his head. "And your favorite movie is....?"

" Chocolat."

He mouthed the word chocolat the way I said it, cho co laat.

"Oohhhh migosh." I knew my mouth was opened.

Cold Is Not the Reason

After the third time running outdoor in a low 30 degree, I think my body has gone into a transition from resisting to changes to gradually accepted it. My body has learned to adjust to cold temperature outside from 75 degree in my apartment after 15 minutes run. After all, changes is inevitable.

The geese bobbed up and down in calm water and floated away from the beach as my feet brought me closer to them. None of them seemed in a hurry to leave the beach, but all of them were in the water by the time I got near them.

I didn't expect to see many people out for a walk, ran and taking their dogs out on Christmas Day. But there were runners, walkers and dog walkers I ran into  all the way to Castle Island. The hardened snow piled up along wide sidewalks. I slowed down to take a closer look when their funny odd shapes caught my eyes.  From three feet away the hardened snow on the right looked like a horse's head. But the horse's head disappeared once I stood next to it. I moved back to the spot when I thought I saw a horse's head, trying to get a right angle, but the magic was gone.

When I got home, my half-leg lamb was ready in the oven.

Christmas

Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday

Meeting a Snowwoman

I hope nobody will come after me after what I did this afternoon. You see, after a cup of blueberry coffee and two sliced of cinnamon toasts, two chapters of new book I started early this morning, I decided to go out running on the beach.

I've noticed the serious runners continue to run on the sidewalks in this weather. I love running and I want to run until I turn 90, godwilling, so I've made up my mind to be more cautious. I'd rather spend bored-to-death-one-hour-on-a-e treadmill than getting my ankles twisted on the wet sidewalks.

Since the temp jumped off the cliff to 20's since the end of November, I stopped running outside. But, the more I thought about it the more I wanted to give it a try. Why not the beach? No slippery sidewalks. Probably colder, and a little windy, but this is winter. I'll add another layer of  fleece shirt. 

I set out at noon. I was surprised how beautiful and calm the beach was in the winter. The serenity I experienced while I ran set it apart from any seasons of the year. I almost cried as I ran.  I missed the raw feeling I had when my feet hit the wet sand. I missed the sound of my breathing as I inhaled slowly in five counts and let it out in seven counts.

The waning curve of the beach stretched ahead of me. Just a distant sky, the waves, the deserted beach and me. I ran all the way until the end of the beach and turned around ran back to where I started. I walked back to the sidewalk, crossed the street and climbed up a foot thick snow slope. The snow wasn't as soft as they fell yesterday, but my feet sunk into the white clean snow.

I heard the children voices, the girls laughter and then I saw five girls were building a snow man. They completed the bottom part, but the snowman's head kept fell apart everytime they got to the final touch.

No wonder the man's head fell apart, it wasn't compact.

"Why don't you girls build a snowwoman?"

They turned and looked at me with the expressions, is this woman crazy?

They looked at each other and the girl in purple jacket said, "Nobody makes snowwoman."

"Why not? There is no rule saying we cannot build a snowwoman."

They looked at each other unsured what to say next.

"Want me to show you?"

The girl in pink jacket, pink scarf and pink hat turned to look at the black SUV park across the street. I followed her gaze. A plump young girl holding a dunkin donut coffee and on the cell phone sat in a driver seat was watching us, or watching me. I waved at her and she waved back, but she didn't make an effort to move.

"So you girls ready? Lets get more snow."

"What do we do to build a snowwoman?"

"We do the same thing when we make snowman, only we make her slimmer."

"You mean she's not fat?"

"That's the goal. Healthy snowwoman."

The girl in pink jacket clasped both of her hands. "I like that."

For the next  half an hour between their gigglings and teasings to each other we built a solid foundation of hips and waistline.

When we got to the chest part, one of the girls said, "Let's make her boobs big." She giggled and the rest ot them practically agreed with her.

"Excuse me, how old you? All of you?"

"We are seven."

"And you call breasts boobs?"

"The grown up say boobs, why can't we?"

"Ohhh..... I didn't say you cannot say boobs, but I was wondering. But one more question, why do you want to make her boobs big?"

"Boys like girls with big boobs."

I gasped and slapped my gloved hand to my forehead. "What am I thinking?"

They laughed hysterically.

"But, when boys talk to you don't you want them to look at your face instead of at your boobs?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, lets say I am a boy, and I am talking to you. Where am I looking at, right now?"

"You are looking at my face."

"If you had a big boobs, and I were a boy, I wouldn't be looking at your face, I would be staring at your boobs. I wasn't listening to what you were saying. And I didn't care how smart the words that came out from your mouth because I were busy staring at your big boobs."

There were silence for a while before the words sunk in. And..............

"Let's make our snowwoman with small boobs."

We finished our snowwoman sculptured with balance body proportion. I lent my black wool hat for our snowwoman.

Then I noticed five  tubes. Three reds and green, and blue.

"Whose tube are those? May I try it?"

"Take mine." The girl in blue/black jacket ran to the biggest red tube and dragged it to me.

"Thank you."

I went to the highest slope, got myself comfortable and whoosheed down.

The other three girls followed behind me. On the third slide, they stayed behind, when I dragged the tube, five of them started to throw the snowballs at me.

"Aaahhhh, you gang up on me." I put down the tube, made the snowballs as fast as I could and hurled back at them. Of course five hands was much better than two hands.

I had no idea what were they up to, but I was sure how much could I take them. As I was trying to hide my face and balled the snow, the biggest snowball the size of my two fists, flew and hit left side of my face.

"You girls are going to get this."

Three more hits my shoulder and  head. I staggerred and fell flat on my face. They laughed.

"We got you lady."

I didn't move. The laughter stopped.

"ohmigod, is she hurt?"

The panic voices and footsteps running toward me.

I kept still when five of them hovered over me.

"Lady, lady, are you okay?" I felt the small hands shook my shoulder. Another hand shook my legs.

When I was sure all of them knelt down around me, I turned around and quickly grabbed the snow and threw at them at close range.

My tricked caught them by surprised. They squeled and laughed.

"You tricked us lady, it's not fair."

"Life is not fair, get used to it." I threw the biggest snow ball I could make at her. She ducked but it caught her right shoulder.

She ran to my side and said, "I would like to be on your side."

"My side, your side, her side, doesn't matter."

For the next 30 minutes we rolled in the snow and chased each other with snowballs until I started to shiver because  some of the snow got inside my jacket when I was lying on the snow.

I told them I had a wonderful time and thanking them for letting me played with them. They thanked me for the snowwoman. I took back my wool hat and walked home with a huge smile spread on my face.

Don't Cry For Me Fruitcake

Most of the residents have left the site for Christmas holiday . The ones that chose to stay on the site, have no family, lost contact with their family, detached themselves from the family or the family disowned them because of their past life styles. There will be plenty of food donated by local churches and an individuals around the city. The food pantry has been stocked up since Monday.

When I arrived at my office this morning, I saw a Whole Food Supermarket brown paper bag outside the door to my office. The top was stapled, and on the site a piece of note attached with a tape. The note was underlined written in red marker:

DO NOT OPEN THIS BAG UNLESS YOU ARE ANA.

The House Manager said the bag was already there when she got to her office an hour ago. I brought the paper bag into my office. I removed the stapled and reached inside the bag.

• a loaf of fruitcake. (Once I mentioned to one of my coworkers that I love fruitcake, and she said yikes.
• a jar of dried figs. (I've always have dried figs in a jar on the window sill next to my desk)
• a 16 oz. jar of almond butter (One of twice  a week I have sliced apple spread  with almond butter)
• a packet of smoked almond. (My junk food at work is smoked almond)
• a pound of ground blueberry coffee from Dunkin Donut.

At the bottom of the paper bag, I found a note. Looking at the writing, I knew who ever wrote it purposely wrote with non-active hand. The note said:

Happy holiday and merry christmast Ana we new about program policy don't let staff acept gifts from cleints this is not gift this food we want to feed you. you done so much for us you always belief us no matter what oters say abot us you always have time for us and smile at us when they got mad at us we understand if you do not acept this foot but we want to feed you not gift ok?

I didn't realize I was crying until my glasses blurred with my tears. I removed my glasses and wiped my tears. I sat down and cried again. When the director came to my office to remind me about the office Christmas dinner later in the evening I showed her the note and the food. What should I do with them?

"No offense Ana, but as far as I know, nobody here eats fruitcake, dried figs or almond butter. And we drink regular coffee." Her green eyes twinkled.

While the Snow Falls

A view from Doctor Office Building on Harrison Avenue

Earlier today I was at BMC for EKG and bloodwork for my upcoming biopsy on the second week of January. During my annual mammogram two months ago they saw a tiny lump on a lower part of my left breast.

When a very gentle technician told me and apologized a hundred times that I had to go one more time through a painful process of getting my breast squeezed and compressed  between two metal trays of mammogram machine, I knew it something wasn't supposed to be there was there. The same thing I heard from my Oby-gyn when he told me about a tissue grew in my cervical a year ago. And now it was my left breast.

Two weeks ago, I met with Dr. Kavannah, a surgeon who will perform a biopsy on me. She went through all the steps that needed to be done and I sat on examination table in that hospital gown opened on the front, nodding my head, half listening and thought: I'm glad Mak is no longer around to be worried about me. It was the second time since Mak's death, I was glad I didn't have to make a dreadful phone call to her.

The snow no longer fell in flakes, but more a lump hit on my wool hat head as I walked back to my office. And I wonder what is it like the lump in me? Just a tissue? Or liquid? Or what? I stopped at Dunkin Donut to get a large cup of blueberry coffee, two sugar and extra cream.

Reviewed two cases, single one-on-one session, returned a bunch of phone messages, updated progress notes, the biopsy melted away. When I looked at the time, it was ten after five.

Breaking the Thread

It is so true when people say when you change the way you think, your actions will follow. Or perhaps from some help books I read some years ago.

Since I've been living here for the past 14 years, I've managed toavoid from going out when there were a heavy snow unless I had to.

Early Sunday morning while the heavy snow pouring from the sky, I brew my first cup of coffee, and set to work on a final binding for my much procrastinating quilting piece.

Of all the process of quilting, binding is the process I dread most. It is the most important process to complete the quilt. As a matter of fact I have five pieces of wall hangings waiting patiently to get the binding process. Fabric or strips that enclose the raw edges of quilt is call binding.

I felt a sense of relief washed over me as soon as I cut the final thread. I threw the piece up  in the air and let it landed on the coffee table the air as I threw up my cap during graduation day many years ago.

It was 7:15 am. I poured out a second cup of coffee and went to the window in my living room. I set the coffee mug on the window sill and pushed the window open.

The cold air air rushed in. It was crispy like a dried leaves and sharp like thousand needles. I pushed the storm window open, knelt down and held out my hand, palm face up. When I felt I had enough air in my hand I folded it carefully letting the crispy air broke into small pieces. I let the broken pieces fell through my fingers back to the white ground.

I finished my now cold coffee, pulled the window down and picked up the phone. The phone rang six times before somebody answered it. "

"Hi, Good morning, do you open this morning?"(Isn't it obvious, somebody answered the phone)".

"Yes, we do. I see you in  a few."

You see, when I woke up this morning and looked out the window, the first thing that came to my mind was", "Bummer, I cannot go to the gym."

But who makes the rule about not going to the gym on a heavy snowy day? I've been playing safe all these years avoiding the messy and thick snow on the ground. So what if there were 10 inches snow on the ground if the gym is open, yes? Screw that. Let me go out and having fun.

Heavy duty jacket? Check

Heavy duty winter boot? Check

Cotton tight? Check

Heavy duty North Face socks? Check

Columbia 100% pants? Check

North Face insulated fleece gloves? Check

Fleece hat? Check

50% Acrylic50% wool scarf? Check

100% cotton turtle neck sweater? Check

Ready? Here I go.

When I got off the train at Park Street, and I was surprised that despite the heavy fall of snow, the city was breathing with people and Christmas shoppers. Finagle Bagels was packed.

I walked a long Tremont Street to the gym instead of walking down on Winter Street and turned onto Washington Street as I have always been doing.

Holding the camera with heavy glove and trying to get a good shot and avoiding snow from falling on my glasses was more fun that I thought.

As I pushed a revolving door at the gym, I wondered, "Why didn't you do this sooner, you silly woman?" A huge smile spread across my face.

.

Homeless, Snowstorm and Boston

On Friday morning when I was heading to Boston Police Department on New Sudbury Street to attend a monthly Task Force Committee for the Homeless meeting, the sky was light gray, the temp was low 30's. As I hurriedly crossed the City Hall promenade I was thinking about the heavy snow on its way later in the day.

Before the meeting began, 12 to 13 people excitedly shared with us that their were allowed to leave their work place as early as 2.00 pm. Lucky for them.

"It seems everybody is leaving at 2.00, there will be chaotic on the streets." The man sat next to me said to the woman next to him. He looked annoyed as the woman kept talking about leaving her office in about three hours, and her plans when she got home.

The man leaned toward me and said, "I don't understand, why people are so excited about the snowstorm? It's no like we never had it. We have it every year."

"Perhaps leaving their office early that excite them, not the snowstorm, or perhaps both. Who knows?" I said to him.

Fliers were passed around regarding the places and favorite spots where most likely would be homeless people end up for to shelter themselves from the snowstorm. Temporary shelters in the city would be full to the brim during the heavy snow days.

I used to think all the homeless people want to be in the warm place with blankets and pillows to put their heads on when the temp drops to below 0. I was wrong. For chronic homeless people who have been homeless for many years, who have undetected mental illness, living in the shelters is the last thing they want to do.

When I left the meeting at noon, flakes of snow began to float gently from the sky. The wind course has slightly changed. It was 12.30 pm, and people spilled out from the office heading toward cafe', diners and foodcourt in Downtown. I stopped at foodcourt to get chickpeas rollled up and hopped on Orange Line train headed back to myoffice.

When I got back to my office, the House Manager was on the phone directing an afternoon relief staff to leave for work as soon as he could. She said, the mayor has just announced there would be a state of emergency. Bad snowstorm was coming.

"When did the mayor say that?" I stopped at her office.

"He will do that pretty soon." She winked at me and laughed.

As I walked toward my office, she called out,"Ana, P won't be coming, and I''m leaving in10 minutes. If I dón't leave now, I'll be stuck in the traffic for hours"."

I nodded my head and closed the door.

More...........

Kak N, an Angel

Every week Kak N sends me little cute e-card. I love this.

Unconcious Mutterings

Week 253

4 days, 8 hours, 9 minutes ago

I say ... and you think ... ?

1. Master::   file
2. Tour ::      book
3. Input ::    information
4. Downtown ::  cafes
5. Pricey :: '         tag
6. Acceptable ::  norm
7. Terrace ::         sun
8. Sunday ::         fluffy pancake
9. Payoff ::           gain
10. Jack and Jill ::  lost children