We found it on the way to pick up the balloons. 19 yellow balloons to be exact. The flower shop was about 40 minutes away from the beach house but it's hard to find a place that has 19 yellow balloons at a moment's notice. What is the occasion you ask? Well, it's the continuation of my depressing post "19 years..." and it was the 19the year anniversary of my mom's funeral. We released the 19 yellow balloons in the evening in remembrance of my mom. Well it took couple of times. The first time we released it, we did it to prematurely on the dock instead of on the beach. Well the winds were gusting strong to the west and guess what? The balloons wrapped themselves tightly around the deck of the house next to us. They were furiously trying to fly away but the damn 19 ribbons they were tied to were all tangled up. My 2 year old daughter kept saying in her dramatic way "OH NOOOOOOO...BALLOOOONS!" We started laughing out loud and we said Mom has a sense of humor. Don't be so sad...that's what she's telling me. Laughter is good. The days don't always have to be sad and serious. Well, now that I thought of it that way, it didn't quite bother me THAT much that the balloons were stuck. Well wouldn't you know it, my husband climbed his way onto the second floor deck of the house (which was unoccupied) getting all scraped up, unlocked the house to get the balloons. Yup, he basically broke in and entered AND trespassed a private property to get them. Now, that's what I call love. The Release of the Balloons, Part 2 went better. We went all the way down to part of the beach where the waves just break onto your feet enough to tickle them, embraced each other and then just let them go all at once. It was right before sunset where the bright lights were still breaking through the ethereal clouds in the sky. We followed them all the up the sky until it looked like a little black ink dot. Then it disappeared into the sky. I was relieved, content, and happy.
Anyways, back to finding "it"....
I was going to finish this post right after we went to the "it" but I was too drunk on their ever delicious yummilicious garlic bread. I officially polished off 6 rolls by myself. I felt really bad asking for a third helping of the house garlic bread so I made up an excuse telling our waiter that I wanted it to "lap up" my sauce. Well,my trigger fish dish wasn't served with any sauce.
They were sprinkled with slight bits of Parmesan cheese and were just the most buttery, crusty deliciousness on the outside and downy soft and warm on the inside. I would have just died and gone to heaven. They even came out looking like little billowy pillows.
My sister and I decided that we would have VERY low expectation of the rolls when we made our reservation. It would taste like a stale hard eeky roll we told ourselves. Ones with the freezer burn you know? I mean, come on, it was well over 4 years ago that we came here. We came to celebrate my mother in law's birthday back then. My son was 9 month old at the time. AT that time, for me one of the most delicious food experiences I had up to that point. I mean, imagine that. So when we planned our vacation to this beach, all I kept thinking was mmmm...garlic rolls and macadamia nut cheesecake. Oh side track a little bit about that cheesecake - which in my mind was amongst the top contenders for my "last meal" choices. You know if you could choose your very last meal to eat, what would it be? Well, this cheesecake is right on top of that list. And let me also preface by saying cheesecake isn't really my favorite. Yeah, that tells you something.
This cheesecake was rustic, not like those perfect factory-manufactured-seeming cakes you get at The Cheesecake Factory, or Eli's. It had a handmade quality to it with the visible white macadamia nuts poking out at the sides. Somehow the graham cracker crust even seemed home made - come to think of it - it probably was. It was creamy, sweet but not too sweet and had a touch of honey and salt. The texture of the crunchy macadamia nuts was the perfect combination. THIS cheesecake from that point in my life was going to be the benchmark of all cheesecakes and desserts in general. Yeah, it was that fabulous.
Boy, at this rate, I'm never going to actually get to my dessert. THIS time around at the Bistro by the Sea. We walked in and it resonated . The same worn down putting-green looking carpet and the same gargantuan lily flower wallpaper. I immediately knew it was going to be the same foodie experience. Well, I talked about the garlic rolls already so I'll spare you more details of me drooling over the them. I'll even skip my most delicious trigger fish with honey Dijon sauce and crunchy whipped potatoes (I know, who knew that whipped potatoes could be crunchy?). I'll go straight to the cheesecake. The dessert menu changes daily so I knew there was a really big chance that the macadamia nut cheesecake would be something that I would just have to keep in remembrance. And yup. It wasn't on the menu. BUT they had a Blueberry steusal lemon cheesecake. Wow. Once again, a creamy perfection The lemon cut the sweetness of the cheese and gave it the brightness that it needed. To die for. The blueberry drizzle and the home made streusal was just the cherry on top. Wow again. I ate every morsel.
I was so relieved and extremely content happy.
Until next year Bistro by the Sea! By the way, I'm not sure how I could forget this place. The menu front has a red-headed hot mermaid with a martini propped up on a piano. Now if I still can't find this place the next time I'm here that's what I'm going to ask the locals about that hot mermaid.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
19 years, 19 years, 19 years, 19 years.....
Nineteen years? What's 19 years? When's 19 years? That's a long time.
Today is a tough day for me. My friend just texted me and said I hope it is a healing and relaxing vacation. Interesting she would say the word healing. I woke up today unsure what to expect - sadness? grief? anger? numbness? After I got her text, I realized it would be about healing. At least that's what I would like. It is a broken heart after all. I would like to be on the mend. I realized I've had this part of my heart broken for 19 years and I'm not sure it the wounds will never completely heal. I've gotten to a point thought where I've realized that's okay. As a result, I become overwhelmed in the waves of sadness as it crashes over me sometimes and I fall.
I've stopped asking Why? That was the question that I asked very briefly anyways after it happened. It would burst out at different times of my life then it would be tucked away neatly like a hankerchief that would be folded and put away in a dresser. Where was she when I graduated from highschool? Where was she when I went away to college? Where was she when I received my acceptance letter to medical school? Where was she as I married the love of my life? Where was she when my children were born? Where is she now as I struggle through so much of what life has put me through? Where is she when as I need SO much support because of my special needs child?
I often tell people that when I think of a pivotal focal point in my life a "visual filmstrip" of that moment pops up in front of me and surrounds me. Like some sci-fi movie that has a cool interactive digital 180 degree screen in front of you that you can touch and maneuver . I hope that made at least SOME sense. Well, if it doesn't just think of it as some photos just lined up next to each other (poor man's version. Haha)
Then I look at it. As painful as it can be. Let me explain. When I turned 36 this year it was HARD. It wasn't where I thought I would be in my life and that was bitterly disappointing. I was emotional, I was tearful, just besides myself. I wondered why. And then the film strip burst open from my Pandora's box. I saw it. The scenes. I'm 13. Mom telling me she had found a lump underneath her left armpit. I told her to go see a doctor. She went. Next scene, I was asked her what the doctor said. She was never a good liar. She said everything was fine but I knew it wasn't. Next scene, we are at the hospital. She is lying down at the hospital bed awaiting her mastectomy. She jokes around that we should all look at her breast since it will be cut off in a few minutes. Next scene, we are at a family friend's house and some lady tells my mom that my brother and I don't understand what's going on because we are too young. Damn it lady I want to tell her, I do fucking understand. Dont' assume because I'm a kid that I don't know what's going on. It makes me mad. My brother's junior high school graduation and how proud she was of him. Fast forward to next scenes which are too painful so the film goes fast. A spot in the liver, bone pain, hair loss, 1991 new years cake. Her painful smiless ghostly look in the photo. Inability to walk. to eat. Her embarrasement as I had to assist her going to the bathroom. The ambulance ride over. The EMT yelling at me because I was too close to the ambulance as I was driving. Her in the oxygen mask. Telling me to go to church. I find this one odd and comical - not to eat pork. (I'm not sure about that one. Maybe it was in delirium but to this day I feel a bit guilty eating pork). Her asking my father if he had found a good sunny lot for her. Her actual passing - awful but in my film strip. Her eyes rolling backward and her breath slowing down. I saw my father run to her. I ran to her scared and I was so scared to say I love you, I don't know why. I don't even remember where my brother was. I remember my father getting a haircut to get ready for the funeral and us just sitting there waiting for him to finish. I remember wearing a black blouse and a black pencil skirt (Of course I would remember my outfit - even at 17!) and some lady asking me where I got the outfit. I wanted to kill her. I remember the surreal fealing of having to pick a yellow dress for her coffin since yellow was her favorite color. Her casket being lowered. I was just numb. My dad in the hearse telling someone "everyone loved her". My brother saying to me I want to be with her in heaven. Then THAT filmstrip ends.
Turning 36 was when she was diagnosed. 19 years later I still have a deeply broken heart. Healing is what I need. Not anger, not whys, not rage, I need healing for my broken heart. This is a tough day.
Today is a tough day for me. My friend just texted me and said I hope it is a healing and relaxing vacation. Interesting she would say the word healing. I woke up today unsure what to expect - sadness? grief? anger? numbness? After I got her text, I realized it would be about healing. At least that's what I would like. It is a broken heart after all. I would like to be on the mend. I realized I've had this part of my heart broken for 19 years and I'm not sure it the wounds will never completely heal. I've gotten to a point thought where I've realized that's okay. As a result, I become overwhelmed in the waves of sadness as it crashes over me sometimes and I fall.
I've stopped asking Why? That was the question that I asked very briefly anyways after it happened. It would burst out at different times of my life then it would be tucked away neatly like a hankerchief that would be folded and put away in a dresser. Where was she when I graduated from highschool? Where was she when I went away to college? Where was she when I received my acceptance letter to medical school? Where was she as I married the love of my life? Where was she when my children were born? Where is she now as I struggle through so much of what life has put me through? Where is she when as I need SO much support because of my special needs child?
I often tell people that when I think of a pivotal focal point in my life a "visual filmstrip" of that moment pops up in front of me and surrounds me. Like some sci-fi movie that has a cool interactive digital 180 degree screen in front of you that you can touch and maneuver . I hope that made at least SOME sense. Well, if it doesn't just think of it as some photos just lined up next to each other (poor man's version. Haha)
Then I look at it. As painful as it can be. Let me explain. When I turned 36 this year it was HARD. It wasn't where I thought I would be in my life and that was bitterly disappointing. I was emotional, I was tearful, just besides myself. I wondered why. And then the film strip burst open from my Pandora's box. I saw it. The scenes. I'm 13. Mom telling me she had found a lump underneath her left armpit. I told her to go see a doctor. She went. Next scene, I was asked her what the doctor said. She was never a good liar. She said everything was fine but I knew it wasn't. Next scene, we are at the hospital. She is lying down at the hospital bed awaiting her mastectomy. She jokes around that we should all look at her breast since it will be cut off in a few minutes. Next scene, we are at a family friend's house and some lady tells my mom that my brother and I don't understand what's going on because we are too young. Damn it lady I want to tell her, I do fucking understand. Dont' assume because I'm a kid that I don't know what's going on. It makes me mad. My brother's junior high school graduation and how proud she was of him. Fast forward to next scenes which are too painful so the film goes fast. A spot in the liver, bone pain, hair loss, 1991 new years cake. Her painful smiless ghostly look in the photo. Inability to walk. to eat. Her embarrasement as I had to assist her going to the bathroom. The ambulance ride over. The EMT yelling at me because I was too close to the ambulance as I was driving. Her in the oxygen mask. Telling me to go to church. I find this one odd and comical - not to eat pork. (I'm not sure about that one. Maybe it was in delirium but to this day I feel a bit guilty eating pork). Her asking my father if he had found a good sunny lot for her. Her actual passing - awful but in my film strip. Her eyes rolling backward and her breath slowing down. I saw my father run to her. I ran to her scared and I was so scared to say I love you, I don't know why. I don't even remember where my brother was. I remember my father getting a haircut to get ready for the funeral and us just sitting there waiting for him to finish. I remember wearing a black blouse and a black pencil skirt (Of course I would remember my outfit - even at 17!) and some lady asking me where I got the outfit. I wanted to kill her. I remember the surreal fealing of having to pick a yellow dress for her coffin since yellow was her favorite color. Her casket being lowered. I was just numb. My dad in the hearse telling someone "everyone loved her". My brother saying to me I want to be with her in heaven. Then THAT filmstrip ends.
Turning 36 was when she was diagnosed. 19 years later I still have a deeply broken heart. Healing is what I need. Not anger, not whys, not rage, I need healing for my broken heart. This is a tough day.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Hightimes
It is the name of our beach house. We are here! Finally. After all that crying and emotionalism last week I am finally here. I felt a weight lift of me when we crossed the bridge into this beach city. I played "Party Anthem" when we came into town in celebration. Haha. I listen to the latest teenie bopper music (that's what my friend calls it) so that I don't feel so old! Anyways, it felt good. It feels good to be here. I can hear the waves crashing. I got us an Oceanfront home and I just stared at the waters. My husband and I high-fived each other "We made it!" We made it. It's beautiful here. I hope my daughter and son like it. Hmmm...
Well, my son started to immediately bawl hyterically the minute we drove up to the house. He wanted to go back to the car pulling our hands. I start to panic. Oh Lord (literally) I'm praying he will get adjusted. We take him out to the beach - he is still bawling hysterically. I knew that the transition would be hard but I always am hopefully that miraculousy he wll just start smiling and running towards whatever it is that we want him to enjoy. I tell myself that EVERYTHING that I have ever "enrolled" him in - camps, therapies,activities he at least bawls for at least 30 minutes. Well, this hysteria this time is lasting 2 hours. And then my husband connected up the 60 in TV in the living room with one of his favorite movies "Signing Time". Thank God for that. Phew, he calmed down, settled down in a comfy lounge chair and started smiling. Then, it was alright. He started to explore and run around the house (this makes him very happy). Seriously I was saying hallelujah. Well, my 2 year old daughter on the other hand was fearless. She just ran toward to the waves and didn't care that she started to get wet at the beach still wearing her normal clothes. She took everything in and was grinning from side to side. So characteric of her personality. I love it. She has just been laughing and giggling since we got here. I am just so relieved and happy that she is just besides herself. She has all the family's adoration as she dances, sings, and just be.
I am looking forward the rest of the week....
Well, my son started to immediately bawl hyterically the minute we drove up to the house. He wanted to go back to the car pulling our hands. I start to panic. Oh Lord (literally) I'm praying he will get adjusted. We take him out to the beach - he is still bawling hysterically. I knew that the transition would be hard but I always am hopefully that miraculousy he wll just start smiling and running towards whatever it is that we want him to enjoy. I tell myself that EVERYTHING that I have ever "enrolled" him in - camps, therapies,activities he at least bawls for at least 30 minutes. Well, this hysteria this time is lasting 2 hours. And then my husband connected up the 60 in TV in the living room with one of his favorite movies "Signing Time". Thank God for that. Phew, he calmed down, settled down in a comfy lounge chair and started smiling. Then, it was alright. He started to explore and run around the house (this makes him very happy). Seriously I was saying hallelujah. Well, my 2 year old daughter on the other hand was fearless. She just ran toward to the waves and didn't care that she started to get wet at the beach still wearing her normal clothes. She took everything in and was grinning from side to side. So characteric of her personality. I love it. She has just been laughing and giggling since we got here. I am just so relieved and happy that she is just besides herself. She has all the family's adoration as she dances, sings, and just be.
I am looking forward the rest of the week....
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Emotionalism
Here I go again. Making up words. At least I think. Maybe the word emotionalism actually exists. Who knows. Well, I was having something VERY delicious last night (finally something about chasing deliciousness!). Some Maryland crab bisque made with heavy cream (the REAL stuff!) and some To-Die-For Mac & Cheese. I saw on the Food Network that a serving a real mac & cheese can be usually 2000 calories. Woh. But it was worth it last night.
As I sipped on my glass of wine last night, my emotionalism got me again. I teared up looking at the wine and I thought to myself "What the F???" Why should I get emotional? I was about to go on a vacation starting next week. My autistic son is thriving in his therapy sessions. My daughter is the apple of my eye. My marriage couldn't be better. I felt healthy and well. So I got to thinking...
Oh wait. A new leaf has turned. The cliche of a "new chapter" of my life has started. I'm grieving the old. A year ago, I wasn't sure if I would make it. In pretty much all the aspects of my life. We were broke. We didn't know if we would be able to pay our bills and rent. I was going to resign in my position with no future direction. My marriage was in trouble from all the strains that the circumstances we were in. I was tempted most of last summer to still lie in bed in anxiety and depression. Last summer was awful. Last fall was awful. Oh wait, did I mention that my husband got ran over by a car?
It is a year later. I've survived. I was strong enough to fight for my life. Our life is slowly being pieced together. I look back at this past year and I couldn't have imagined that I would have gotten to this point. It seemed so hopeless at this same point in time last year.
So this vacation we are about to take isn't JUST a vacation for me. It represents normalcy that I've been craving for the last 3.5 years. I'll go into the last 3 1/2 years in another blog (another totally depressing anti-deliciousness post I can assure you) but lets just say that our family has not been in any position to take a normal vacation since our son was 15months old (He will be five next month). So this is REALLY a big deal that we will get away. Be like everyone else for a bit. Be like every other family and go to the beach in August. Let out a sigh in relief.
Did I mention that the most DELICIOUS macadamia nut cheesecake is at the beach we are going to? I am gonna chase after that cheesecake!!!
As I sipped on my glass of wine last night, my emotionalism got me again. I teared up looking at the wine and I thought to myself "What the F???" Why should I get emotional? I was about to go on a vacation starting next week. My autistic son is thriving in his therapy sessions. My daughter is the apple of my eye. My marriage couldn't be better. I felt healthy and well. So I got to thinking...
Oh wait. A new leaf has turned. The cliche of a "new chapter" of my life has started. I'm grieving the old. A year ago, I wasn't sure if I would make it. In pretty much all the aspects of my life. We were broke. We didn't know if we would be able to pay our bills and rent. I was going to resign in my position with no future direction. My marriage was in trouble from all the strains that the circumstances we were in. I was tempted most of last summer to still lie in bed in anxiety and depression. Last summer was awful. Last fall was awful. Oh wait, did I mention that my husband got ran over by a car?
It is a year later. I've survived. I was strong enough to fight for my life. Our life is slowly being pieced together. I look back at this past year and I couldn't have imagined that I would have gotten to this point. It seemed so hopeless at this same point in time last year.
So this vacation we are about to take isn't JUST a vacation for me. It represents normalcy that I've been craving for the last 3.5 years. I'll go into the last 3 1/2 years in another blog (another totally depressing anti-deliciousness post I can assure you) but lets just say that our family has not been in any position to take a normal vacation since our son was 15months old (He will be five next month). So this is REALLY a big deal that we will get away. Be like everyone else for a bit. Be like every other family and go to the beach in August. Let out a sigh in relief.
Did I mention that the most DELICIOUS macadamia nut cheesecake is at the beach we are going to? I am gonna chase after that cheesecake!!!
Friday, July 29, 2011
If you only knew...
Today has been an end to a REALLY long week. I feel like a hypocrite calling this blog about deliciousness since I feel a vomit of anti-deliciousness complaining coming up. Thank goodness for wine. Hahaha. Actually I want to contain the stress and complaints of the daily grind and put that behind me for a bit. I feel good sitting in our pub bar just chilling by myself. I was originally supposed to hang out with a girlfriend to catch up but life got the better of us. So I'm just a loner tonight. Which actually I don't mind after greeting 60 people today. Yeppers. That's right - on average I see anywhere from 50-60 people a day during my average work day. Interacting with them. Finding out about their lives. What it is that concerns them. They listen to me. They come to me for advise. For a second opinion. For answers. They come looking for hope for conditions that affect how they value themselves. I do my best to help them. I ask God for guidance each day on my way to work so that I can give my best to these people that come to me looking for answers. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel grateful for having been given this gift. For giving me the opportunity to do what I love doing. For the blessing. I somehow feel that this is one aspect of my life that God will abundantly bless and guide us for the rest of our lives. Not that I don't feel that God is blessing our lives otherwise but when you've done through such personal trial and tribulation, I find comfort in the fact that God seems to be swooping down and making a success of our professional dream. I feel confident that this is exactly where I am supposed to be at this time shaping my life and the life of others. It is just like Oprah said. Yeah, yeah that's right, I brought up Oprah. I did bring up the most influential woman in the world. And yes! She acknowledged Jesus as her saving grace. For guiding her in prayer. I felt proud to be a Chrisitian when she gave credit to Jesus.
Anyways, before someone calls me a religious freak, one last thing about Oprah. I did learn from her is that compassion is an essential component of forming relationships. So I try not to come from a hoity-doity place as I talk to the people that come to see me. I want to provide information and for us to make decisions together. I judge not. Who am I to judge? Also, don't really have any place being "hoity doity" - I come from a family where my parents didn't go to college and I grew up living in a bedroom with my mom and my brother. That's right, we rented ONE room in an apartment. It was quite cozy to say the least. So yeah, I don't come from a place of power, success, or money - just survival and an idea to chase after a dream.
It's interesting because I used to say that I was the epitiome of an "American Dream" - whatever the heck that means. I would say I came from an immigrant family that had no education, and I was the first one to pursue higher education and to "make something" of myself. I prided myself in self-sustandence. The ability to adapt. The fact that I could still be standing here calling myself a semi-success after all the years of moving (actually 17 times to be exact before the age of 18) around and to persevere after my mother passed away the summer before my senior year in college. And still getting into the most prestigious graduate medical educational program.
But in reality, I don't know if I really feel like a success. In reality, after I met with my therapist I realized what a mess I really am. I thought I was strong, adaptable, resilient - which may still be true to a certain extent but apparently I haven't dealt with any losses in my life. LOSSES??! What the F?? Wow, that's pretty deep. Losses. That is definitely anti-deliciousness. Eeeek. Why did I even name my blog deliciousness when all I talk about is the hardships that I have or am going through. Well, I suppose it is all part of the process. Sigh. That's what I would like to believe anyways.
Well, if it's any consolation, this wine is quite delicious. Chasing the deliciousness with my drink right now....
It seems more anti-deliciousness is coming your way...
Anyways, before someone calls me a religious freak, one last thing about Oprah. I did learn from her is that compassion is an essential component of forming relationships. So I try not to come from a hoity-doity place as I talk to the people that come to see me. I want to provide information and for us to make decisions together. I judge not. Who am I to judge? Also, don't really have any place being "hoity doity" - I come from a family where my parents didn't go to college and I grew up living in a bedroom with my mom and my brother. That's right, we rented ONE room in an apartment. It was quite cozy to say the least. So yeah, I don't come from a place of power, success, or money - just survival and an idea to chase after a dream.
It's interesting because I used to say that I was the epitiome of an "American Dream" - whatever the heck that means. I would say I came from an immigrant family that had no education, and I was the first one to pursue higher education and to "make something" of myself. I prided myself in self-sustandence. The ability to adapt. The fact that I could still be standing here calling myself a semi-success after all the years of moving (actually 17 times to be exact before the age of 18) around and to persevere after my mother passed away the summer before my senior year in college. And still getting into the most prestigious graduate medical educational program.
But in reality, I don't know if I really feel like a success. In reality, after I met with my therapist I realized what a mess I really am. I thought I was strong, adaptable, resilient - which may still be true to a certain extent but apparently I haven't dealt with any losses in my life. LOSSES??! What the F?? Wow, that's pretty deep. Losses. That is definitely anti-deliciousness. Eeeek. Why did I even name my blog deliciousness when all I talk about is the hardships that I have or am going through. Well, I suppose it is all part of the process. Sigh. That's what I would like to believe anyways.
Well, if it's any consolation, this wine is quite delicious. Chasing the deliciousness with my drink right now....
It seems more anti-deliciousness is coming your way...
Saturday, July 23, 2011
So what am I talking about?
What do I mean? I'm asking myself that exact question. So I have a "cool" sounding name of a blog and potential book title. Ha! At least it sounds cool to me but this may be up for debate and I also may be a bit delusional about a book. But anyhow back to deliciousness. I specifically chose that word because of my love for good food but does it mean anything besides tasty food?? The first thing I did to get information on this word was to Google it. It said something about some yuppies or hippies in San Francisco creating this word. Seriously. Well, I certainly wasn't too satisfied with that. So I looked up deliciousness on the internet dictionary. Well, apparently there really isn't a real definition for the word. It's explained as a noun to the adjective Delicious. So the best I could get was A)something pleasing to the senses and B) something very delightful.
Pleasing to senses and Very delightful. Not bad. Not too shabby. Pleasing to the Sight, Hearing, Taste, Smell, and Touch.
Just plain true Beauty is the way I interpret that. It's like the first time I saw breathtaking Paris. The first time I heard a Bach concerto. The first time I had a chocolate pecan pie at Frontera Grill. The first time I smelled lilacs when my husband then boyfriend asked me if it was okay to hold my hand. The first time when I touched my babies' feet - so soft and delicious.
True delightfulness.
Running after beauty that would delight my life.
Chasing it.
Trying to capture it despite all obstacles in my way.
Chase the deliciousness of my life.
I think I get it. I get the motto. I get the vision.
Pleasing to senses and Very delightful. Not bad. Not too shabby. Pleasing to the Sight, Hearing, Taste, Smell, and Touch.
Just plain true Beauty is the way I interpret that. It's like the first time I saw breathtaking Paris. The first time I heard a Bach concerto. The first time I had a chocolate pecan pie at Frontera Grill. The first time I smelled lilacs when my husband then boyfriend asked me if it was okay to hold my hand. The first time when I touched my babies' feet - so soft and delicious.
True delightfulness.
Running after beauty that would delight my life.
Chasing it.
Trying to capture it despite all obstacles in my way.
Chase the deliciousness of my life.
I think I get it. I get the motto. I get the vision.
Old Country Road
"Take me home...to the place I belong..country road..."
I am listening to this John Denver lyrics LOT lately. It is my son's favorite song these days. He knows how to maneuver the U-Tube app on the iPad and find this song. So amazing given his disability. He has a big grin on his face as he is listening and watching the video. Even though I don't know what he is thinking, it makes me happy that he is so happy listening to the song. I've gotten accustomed to humming a long to the tunes and to tell you the truth I'm starting to really like the song. The lyrics are even getting to me a bit and even makes me a bit teary at times. I know, really puzzling and stupid right? As much as I like to "bury" my feelings and neatly assign them in a "box" for me to deal at a later time, it overflows these days lately and I can't seem to contain them like I used to be able to do.
I listened to a sermon a while back at church that was about paradise. Heaven. The afterlife. The everlasting belief in my faith that this world is only the beginning to a promised life that awaits me. A place where there is no more pain, no more tears, no more broken hearts, no more genetic syndrome, no more autism. A place that I would be able to speak to my son. A place where we would have the relationship that I always envisioned us to have. A place where my boy would be whole.
So if I had to take a wild guess why I get teary eyed with this John Denver song (by the way, I didn't even know who John Denver really was until my son!) it would be that I want to go to the place that I BELONG that I would be able to restt. Maybe that sounds really cheesy and goofy but this is the way my brain is working these days...the emotional cup overflowth.
I am listening to this John Denver lyrics LOT lately. It is my son's favorite song these days. He knows how to maneuver the U-Tube app on the iPad and find this song. So amazing given his disability. He has a big grin on his face as he is listening and watching the video. Even though I don't know what he is thinking, it makes me happy that he is so happy listening to the song. I've gotten accustomed to humming a long to the tunes and to tell you the truth I'm starting to really like the song. The lyrics are even getting to me a bit and even makes me a bit teary at times. I know, really puzzling and stupid right? As much as I like to "bury" my feelings and neatly assign them in a "box" for me to deal at a later time, it overflows these days lately and I can't seem to contain them like I used to be able to do.
I listened to a sermon a while back at church that was about paradise. Heaven. The afterlife. The everlasting belief in my faith that this world is only the beginning to a promised life that awaits me. A place where there is no more pain, no more tears, no more broken hearts, no more genetic syndrome, no more autism. A place that I would be able to speak to my son. A place where we would have the relationship that I always envisioned us to have. A place where my boy would be whole.
So if I had to take a wild guess why I get teary eyed with this John Denver song (by the way, I didn't even know who John Denver really was until my son!) it would be that I want to go to the place that I BELONG that I would be able to restt. Maybe that sounds really cheesy and goofy but this is the way my brain is working these days...the emotional cup overflowth.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Finally!
Finally I have decided to start on my way to writing my book. I have a title. "Chase the Deliciousness." That's all I have for now. A bit daunting really having an ambition to write a book when all I have is the title. Better get cracking! I came to this title in a family gathering, our "Sunday dinner" that we used to have when I was healthy. I think the conversation was about our motto in life. I think. It's a bit blurry back then. Chase the deliciousness came to my mind. I have always been a foodie, loving anything tasty coming my way. But I'm not a foodie in the snobby-critiquing-critizing way. I just love yummy food. And I thought "What a way to live your life..."
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