tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-181859592024-03-19T05:49:26.635-07:00Rambling SoulMarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.comBlogger216125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-18412090849900111332011-04-06T18:10:00.000-07:002011-04-06T18:14:28.414-07:00I'll pass banana for now...<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Australia is one of the countries whose currency is in dollars. The value, however, fluctuates a few cents. With this in mind I thought that the prices of some of the commodities Down Under would be a little bit more or less than what we have up in North America. I had a big surprise though when I stepped in a grocery store. Their prices were unbelievable. They are more than double as that of ours back home.</span> <span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">Here below are a sampling of what they have.</span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMiq49mzfV7TOSOMCtvjNGbTTvPwHs0KPmPvQ6KytzKk2ywtV2U6bDeCGTPtY1ISEoqs4EaUwLmwtOneqSuyXv9WpqmWceXvuQjLqx8HrphWtnSlNLRflv0UJ91j0mWa9puvY/s1600/day12_chickn.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592423426582422098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMiq49mzfV7TOSOMCtvjNGbTTvPwHs0KPmPvQ6KytzKk2ywtV2U6bDeCGTPtY1ISEoqs4EaUwLmwtOneqSuyXv9WpqmWceXvuQjLqx8HrphWtnSlNLRflv0UJ91j0mWa9puvY/s200/day12_chickn.JPG" /></a> Click image to enlarge.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Chicken at $5.79 a kilogram (1 kilogram = 2.204 pounds). That makes a pound of chicken at $2.63. I can't complain about our $0.99/lb. </span></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhICBWfLFpEUj9LXvsfijSq50CexUcBV_x5JxDRgB95Oa5TlG7CgMW7JxkNXD5KE2solEa3Kq5l1O2cIjv3FbOitaDXWmEiPVqNdjvQe3hsodUmmSb5f3073eL_onS163N8I9a6/s1600/day12_bbqchickn.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592423421936234034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhICBWfLFpEUj9LXvsfijSq50CexUcBV_x5JxDRgB95Oa5TlG7CgMW7JxkNXD5KE2solEa3Kq5l1O2cIjv3FbOitaDXWmEiPVqNdjvQe3hsodUmmSb5f3073eL_onS163N8I9a6/s200/day12_bbqchickn.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> <span style="font-size:130%;">Barbequed chicken at $10.90. I can't tell how many kilograms it is, but, by the looks of it, it's about 1 1/2 kilograms. </span></span></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkJlN-MUkOhxcfIVIxfUxrwIDn4bPNNUAYuTyUnV3aOSFw_ZF9y1JcnVoW5-B8NqrBgfft4DrDSNfOSRe7hkvq7SWq7-M0U5CmjxNlyu0f9w2oHnkDqsL1MPcf8qkA7W8h5x5/s1600/day6_spinach.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592429307777031890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkJlN-MUkOhxcfIVIxfUxrwIDn4bPNNUAYuTyUnV3aOSFw_ZF9y1JcnVoW5-B8NqrBgfft4DrDSNfOSRe7hkvq7SWq7-M0U5CmjxNlyu0f9w2oHnkDqsL1MPcf8qkA7W8h5x5/s200/day6_spinach.JPG" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> <span style="font-size:130%;">A bunch of spinach at $2.50</span>. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbajkAk1-g8lfafnFmJAX7edL9SJ4vQ1HS1To7ibQVgLLFIEv1qKSjAQa03T1-P9YmPCmfGIw7p9KLP6BsmENB2z4Chr6_MMt9Ab7S00Cux3ZLzJ7nyIk6TuvhE2-y_HwJFX2/s1600/day12_bananas.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592423419844935522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbajkAk1-g8lfafnFmJAX7edL9SJ4vQ1HS1To7ibQVgLLFIEv1qKSjAQa03T1-P9YmPCmfGIw7p9KLP6BsmENB2z4Chr6_MMt9Ab7S00Cux3ZLzJ7nyIk6TuvhE2-y_HwJFX2/s200/day12_bananas.JPG" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"> Bananas at $11.99 a kilogram. </span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">Cosmetics are also sky-high in prices.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">H</span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">owever, k</span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">itchen appliances, electrical gadgets, household appliance are basically the same in prices as what we have. That also include electronics such as flat screen TVs, laptop computers, memory sticks and etc. </span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">Clothings are the same in prices, some are made from other countries. I purchased a couple of blouses and a sweatshirt. Some are on sale as they are making room for winter clothes. It is now their autumn here and soon winter will be upon them. Our summer back in the U.S. is their winter here. </span></p>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-66375703397196264592011-03-24T17:38:00.000-07:002011-03-24T18:22:05.391-07:00Grilled kangaroo anyone?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCIth-cadgAUrZU2Y3x-ztI47tVyAIui98B9_rGmeyVBA3Q8ua8tPqNli6FIZI8qQurGIUD_vnBbe7XwlJu8oLLo8nYHEweMa5eymKJ_4MxQhdTJu88iXbKZPl2SRHTnAxqCf/s1600/kanga_meat3.JPG"></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Kangaroos abound here Down Under, but I have not seen one strutting before my eyes. I have seen a lot of them on TV though. This is one native animal I would like to see in person alive. But that will be a few days from now as m</span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">y husband and I were promised by my sister-in-law's friend that she'll take us in the countryside and there'll be some there prancing before us. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">In the meantime, my husband being an adventurous one when it comes to cuisine would like to try kangaroo meat. With the help of my husband's niece we found this exotic meat at the Queen Victoria Market in downtown Melbourne. </span><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIO-KaoSRvzSEfVEwj4Qp5gVzEZMeS7t4VSixzo-Er3GUzrh3q6lsKJY4QArzqG5Vl3webcUFRsTD4CUD2cR7pqFWqJ5J7XEG43cd47ZxWfD5D-eb5czxhS6IXNUKAdpsjLPG5/s1600/kanga_meat2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587812754650662930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIO-KaoSRvzSEfVEwj4Qp5gVzEZMeS7t4VSixzo-Er3GUzrh3q6lsKJY4QArzqG5Vl3webcUFRsTD4CUD2cR7pqFWqJ5J7XEG43cd47ZxWfD5D-eb5czxhS6IXNUKAdpsjLPG5/s320/kanga_meat2.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCIth-cadgAUrZU2Y3x-ztI47tVyAIui98B9_rGmeyVBA3Q8ua8tPqNli6FIZI8qQurGIUD_vnBbe7XwlJu8oLLo8nYHEweMa5eymKJ_4MxQhdTJu88iXbKZPl2SRHTnAxqCf/s1600/kanga_meat3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587818465231071890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCIth-cadgAUrZU2Y3x-ztI47tVyAIui98B9_rGmeyVBA3Q8ua8tPqNli6FIZI8qQurGIUD_vnBbe7XwlJu8oLLo8nYHEweMa5eymKJ_4MxQhdTJu88iXbKZPl2SRHTnAxqCf/s320/kanga_meat3.JPG" /></a> Kangaroo meat in marinade.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Gil, my husband's nephew, marinated the meat in bolgogi sauce, chopped onion, and crushed pepper corns.<br /></span><br /></div><div><div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKljvHnN4pdCauW33j3Z1aldbZSMWacQ-ISjC7-NOcB7NmgHIV3xjtY3XNdT_7kK-1iH-6Mljn2pOvo9pRzFv6Rrj1qubZ2rTyoWO_XsvsSsKbhIai1uM4WBJi4iG_7AQWFaFf/s1600/kanga_meat4.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587812761494190402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKljvHnN4pdCauW33j3Z1aldbZSMWacQ-ISjC7-NOcB7NmgHIV3xjtY3XNdT_7kK-1iH-6Mljn2pOvo9pRzFv6Rrj1qubZ2rTyoWO_XsvsSsKbhIai1uM4WBJi4iG_7AQWFaFf/s320/kanga_meat4.JPG" /></a> On the grill.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjUoiteeO3k1h3YFdk4OpqmCl0uVFVhlE4QCEqLmGw2OL8QF52JOkyDyb6nf1jfq9AhkTJjv-mIPu2xFguDs4nfJtF9i3gHDsXRpOTcgo99hly3MXI9nAQ6WYsy7PTCugLzN-/s1600/kanga_meat5.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587812762608817458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjUoiteeO3k1h3YFdk4OpqmCl0uVFVhlE4QCEqLmGw2OL8QF52JOkyDyb6nf1jfq9AhkTJjv-mIPu2xFguDs4nfJtF9i3gHDsXRpOTcgo99hly3MXI9nAQ6WYsy7PTCugLzN-/s320/kanga_meat5.JPG" /></a> And done, ready to eat.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCkYk3SexuYFl64ANGJtHvrgsar7QW0ktXYYQMR1dIryv2GgfMAY_ELMaq5jdaU3_W8D6tenY7ML6yZXs34WJOBv9bG-jf4hXGHNUngq1C3Odk5B1DolDkl6oP2CVIuR5_ufL/s1600/kanga_wrice.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587812770320164178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCkYk3SexuYFl64ANGJtHvrgsar7QW0ktXYYQMR1dIryv2GgfMAY_ELMaq5jdaU3_W8D6tenY7ML6yZXs34WJOBv9bG-jf4hXGHNUngq1C3Odk5B1DolDkl6oP2CVIuR5_ufL/s320/kanga_wrice.JPG" /></a> My plate.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I thought I was not going to eat it, but it looked so good; tasted good I ate a lot. It was...yummy...yummy.<br /><br /></span></div></div></div></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-66276533129171088902011-03-24T17:27:00.000-07:002011-03-24T18:25:35.067-07:00Across the oceans.<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Your voice crossed the Pacific,</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">So overjoyed to hear.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Glad to know you care;</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">And still remember</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Your online buddy</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Among so many.</span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-67198254569821908972011-01-12T16:00:00.000-08:002011-01-12T16:00:02.922-08:00Winter Wonderland<span style="font-size:130%;">Rarely do we get snow in our part of Southern California. Most of the time they are found in higher places, like Mount Baldy, or Big Bear. The last time we had snow was some 20 years ago.<br /></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />In any event, snow started falling here on Jan. 2nd, in the early afternoon. It continued on until night time. After midnight the snow on the pavements melted and by morning we had a few scattered around on unpaved ground; and on plants, bushes and grass.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXPJylfEbrXapoJuDlnA6I6xHq_Ft4lg6mGueL2e1Y2mxaQvzat1ZygV_Bvvwf7i2oT3Zbu2i0e5bfyeucMnZRlaLodQBwdK_XZuoAydEMOjIRn5JwFVRlECSjPUAYE8NBnNV/s1600/IMG_0004.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXPJylfEbrXapoJuDlnA6I6xHq_Ft4lg6mGueL2e1Y2mxaQvzat1ZygV_Bvvwf7i2oT3Zbu2i0e5bfyeucMnZRlaLodQBwdK_XZuoAydEMOjIRn5JwFVRlECSjPUAYE8NBnNV/s320/IMG_0004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561429822626636706" border="0" /></a>View of the front yard.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Vy6F4OP-GEw-yCbBlpGI7IyUu898_y4cvfTC8BexSv9N6MF-m5o4JsGTEDvy3-5sqr3WSUFNES41U7HH5yXdeyKS0lKt48dtM7IvS8oJF9HD3IkleMoJk05cDpolgOMnytUg/s1600/IMG_0001.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Vy6F4OP-GEw-yCbBlpGI7IyUu898_y4cvfTC8BexSv9N6MF-m5o4JsGTEDvy3-5sqr3WSUFNES41U7HH5yXdeyKS0lKt48dtM7IvS8oJF9HD3IkleMoJk05cDpolgOMnytUg/s320/IMG_0001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561430495265540194" border="0" /></a>The houses across my street covered with snow.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic855Z_CkAHi8rZq4LXwchxj4fuVyhcLe6MypIP5_SFuHPeh9gvXBY2FMgDi80LRjBhBL14zoJop924YGQQz3HBePcxUxAUZsexfOwBoCdjoTTPbSU6aDFBVKMcDvHMPZeAEac/s1600/IMG_0016.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic855Z_CkAHi8rZq4LXwchxj4fuVyhcLe6MypIP5_SFuHPeh9gvXBY2FMgDi80LRjBhBL14zoJop924YGQQz3HBePcxUxAUZsexfOwBoCdjoTTPbSU6aDFBVKMcDvHMPZeAEac/s320/IMG_0016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561430338889515314" border="0" /></a>In the front by the driveway.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvTiUEbR2XzVMVRT_wK8cN05vhyphenhyphenJTeZoLqL8wi6vlO-2SGVdXtE0Ni6g5g773btUD4wBCLEOEtYVsCRIltQOz38XEG41o9vDRxoaV4_0hK0U1LOOzrKYU2S-Z-WPh5Y85nMGG/s1600/IMG_0003.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvTiUEbR2XzVMVRT_wK8cN05vhyphenhyphenJTeZoLqL8wi6vlO-2SGVdXtE0Ni6g5g773btUD4wBCLEOEtYVsCRIltQOz38XEG41o9vDRxoaV4_0hK0U1LOOzrKYU2S-Z-WPh5Y85nMGG/s320/IMG_0003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561429834165876354" border="0" /></a>In the back yard.<br /></div></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-51939526530429821682010-12-20T22:09:00.000-08:002010-12-20T22:26:29.580-08:00It's pouring...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUbkj40sd2Piw4tkBxEipf-SqwBtjJR9N9oBZ-83kD4aFUfR1q_rrVyMCh1TVPqhSr5_RWn1fmTkB7_40a6uNXSQ4DwSBnnJgsx8FQGIPpW3xh2IlCcZ-XZ-v_Dru9YczHhK8/s1600/wet_patio.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUbkj40sd2Piw4tkBxEipf-SqwBtjJR9N9oBZ-83kD4aFUfR1q_rrVyMCh1TVPqhSr5_RWn1fmTkB7_40a6uNXSQ4DwSBnnJgsx8FQGIPpW3xh2IlCcZ-XZ-v_Dru9YczHhK8/s320/wet_patio.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553015476009505666" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Rain soaked patio.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">It's been raining the whole day and whole night. Nothing much to do...except, eat, watch tv, surf the web, sleep...an</span><span style="font-size:130%;">d eat again. Got to do some walking out there; stretch my rusty legs; mobilize my system lest I stiffen.<br /><br />If I stiffen I would be...<br />hard as a rock<br />laid in a pine box.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >:-</span><span style="font-size:180%;">D</span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-6688089303924729262010-12-06T21:16:00.001-08:002010-12-06T21:34:16.752-08:00Misty little town<span style="font-size:130%;">We had a dose of rain last night and this was the sight I saw as I walked out of my front door this morning. The little town down the hill was covered with mist. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtPrA9cqv_vG9qYF95O_JRkBJS3NOigY_vBxLrFWNJq6HXKdZb_bAE6w_58H1nfjqAe_nXOLlOMtRlpdvfCPXv5djAlh_FEUbHfOG4CxhtGDI2zpdDJlOYbmSUsKn7NGpCxa_7/s1600/IMG_0124.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtPrA9cqv_vG9qYF95O_JRkBJS3NOigY_vBxLrFWNJq6HXKdZb_bAE6w_58H1nfjqAe_nXOLlOMtRlpdvfCPXv5djAlh_FEUbHfOG4CxhtGDI2zpdDJlOYbmSUsKn7NGpCxa_7/s320/IMG_0124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547806103828889938" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8lNkdokRrqxBHteNjH-OW6W5CJTI4ZLaIAdc3k00QMQdMBGdDCqqTdup7hygPk1Mxe5ZpsqA-1ksp_8PZGoMcIYTr0ojEzqfceRS8BvyTC73mf2y_XhlevkLY01DWGOF_gnr/s1600/IMG_0126.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8lNkdokRrqxBHteNjH-OW6W5CJTI4ZLaIAdc3k00QMQdMBGdDCqqTdup7hygPk1Mxe5ZpsqA-1ksp_8PZGoMcIYTr0ojEzqfceRS8BvyTC73mf2y_XhlevkLY01DWGOF_gnr/s320/IMG_0126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547806099660225666" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">After a good dousing everything seemed so clean and fresh. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JQ2TMp6DVyN6K-b9Db3QdVAYvfP4JmTdk9tY2m2b6QAuVY5k6ggcZfw8UEb8j5BsRcIjJp98b6RZGoYAoGvsNESS3PHaDutnhKQS0-UvKgz65Pht6xlT8pXYTyOmxy8bjt3D/s1600/IMG_0129.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JQ2TMp6DVyN6K-b9Db3QdVAYvfP4JmTdk9tY2m2b6QAuVY5k6ggcZfw8UEb8j5BsRcIjJp98b6RZGoYAoGvsNESS3PHaDutnhKQS0-UvKgz65Pht6xlT8pXYTyOmxy8bjt3D/s320/IMG_0129.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547806097129465426" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">My succulent was happy to have been drenched with cool rain.</span> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmzb9OxDSnmmQte4RNnjBYT35mvcvE5tRMMvVPf-97bdMXM0_3XrFKNtSt_GIcCXQP38j0-UDUPxVaCPHsQKwuBFCZvkfgREKrcsOVsJrJIzuzg1ZyqKu7aEfTd1aXLCwmkrm/s1600/IMG_0131.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmzb9OxDSnmmQte4RNnjBYT35mvcvE5tRMMvVPf-97bdMXM0_3XrFKNtSt_GIcCXQP38j0-UDUPxVaCPHsQKwuBFCZvkfgREKrcsOVsJrJIzuzg1ZyqKu7aEfTd1aXLCwmkrm/s320/IMG_0131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547806089583991426" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Misty view...</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jEB71hyQzTqToUpFKp-15PB19r_2yk30MoBc2c4ETWzBMrG74v0ERxiu38CN-pbvJXlV7Z7CupTrdrPJqABgUccxKoPQGa8jVFh0PHYsCBrk0AxIyzfphMQlgkXOY0z0nyjw/s1600/IMG_0133.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jEB71hyQzTqToUpFKp-15PB19r_2yk30MoBc2c4ETWzBMrG74v0ERxiu38CN-pbvJXlV7Z7CupTrdrPJqABgUccxKoPQGa8jVFh0PHYsCBrk0AxIyzfphMQlgkXOY0z0nyjw/s320/IMG_0133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547806083108929218" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">and more mist rising. It was not nippy today. It was a bit warmer than usual. </span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-92130838381950112452010-11-24T23:44:00.000-08:002010-11-25T00:35:39.949-08:00Hello!<span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:130%;">My long absence in the blogosphere had some of my friends wondering about my well-being. At this writing all is well. I am fine, and have been for quite sometime; for months now. I know, that in the past I have written about my struggle to pass a road of darkness; of uncertainty. That is all over now. I have a new lease in life and will take advantage of it as life is getting shorter each day.<br /><br />Why the silence then? "<span style="font-style: italic;">Nabagsakan ng katam.</span>" I would rather play computer games than wrack my brain for an essay. I would rather sleep; go biking and eat than think. <br /><br />In any event, I thank the good souls out there who were concerned.<br /><br />Good night all...and Happy Thanksgiving.<br /></span></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-62609695060205410402010-07-17T17:53:00.001-07:002010-07-17T20:34:31.275-07:00Heat wave<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/misty_morn-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 270px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/misty_morn-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Ten days ago I would wake up in the morning and look out my balcony and see mist shrouding the hillside below. It hovered up to my house, to the trees and to my backyard. The temperature was cool much like late winter or early spring. Summer seemed to have moved farther away from my calendar. But days later it turned nasty...wicked...wickedly hot. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/temp-2-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 341px; height: 341px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/temp-2-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Ninety degrees Fahrenheit was the temperature recorded in my patio 2 days ago. Yesterday, Friday, it was at 100F degrees! I was dripping wet with sweat when outdoors. So, I stay in the safety of a cool air-conditioned room to avoid any heat stroke. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Global warming? Hmm...Al Gore must be saying, "I told you so."</span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-51587856392156566202010-07-12T23:54:00.000-07:002010-07-17T17:53:44.634-07:00Sunday siesta and mangos<span style="font-size:130%;">I woke up from my siesta and felt like snacking on something. Took the stairs and made my way to the kitchen and searched for something to fill my hungry tummy. Looking around and there they are...<a href="http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_is_the_plural_of_mango">mangos</a> (or mangoes). I sliced one and about to gobble it up when hubby came from behind me; caught me. In any event, I shared with him some. He doesn't eat much of it, so I had most of it.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/mangos.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 259px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/mangos.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">They are now in season. And when they come in truck loads they sell them really cheap. I bought these ones at 4 for a $1. They are good the way they are or dipped in <span style="font-style: italic;">bagoong </span>(<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shrimp_paste">shrimp paste</a>). Yum! </span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-55367431547512319052010-07-01T23:50:00.000-07:002010-07-02T00:08:04.528-07:00Oldies but goodies<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">My husband and I cruised on down to Old Town Newhall last Sunday to see the vintage cars on display. </span>These old cars date back to the 1930's and up to the early 1970's. They are pampered by their owners; and have spent so much money on them. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4199.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 230px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4199.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">They are candy colored from a distance. There are no posted information about the cars' make, year it was built and so on. Some of them have retained their old engines replacing some faulty or rusty parts. Others have totally replaced them. </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4179-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 205px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4179-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">A Jaguar. Can't tell what year this was built. </span><br />(Click image to enlarge.)<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4181-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 230px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4181-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">1950's convertibles.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4198-1-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 231px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4198-1-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">A flatbed truck. Can't tell what year.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4183-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 209px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4183-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">I love this one. A hardtop convertible with the top going in the trunk. The top must have been custom built.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4204-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 281px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4204-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Must be of the 1930's. Not sure, though. </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4196.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 249px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4196.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Another version of the one above. This one has 6 wheels.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4189.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 388px; height: 246px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4189.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Multi-colored cars.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4191-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 230px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4191-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Truck of the 1960's? </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4197.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 226px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4197.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">A blue 1930's. </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4180.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 280px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4180.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">A gray 1930's. This reminds me of the era of Al Capone.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4201-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 264px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4201-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Another truck. This one has white side wall tires. Fancy.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4205.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 271px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4205.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">More cars.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4202.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 339px; height: 227px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4202.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">This one has two fronts and two steering wheels. </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4208.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 179px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4208.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Here's the interior. </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4210.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 137px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4210.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">This is a new car. I've seen some in town and they are kind of cute. They are made in France.</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4206-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 388px; height: 221px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/IMG_4206-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">This band provided the music. At the time I took the picture they were playing The Rolling Stones' (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />I can't get no satisfaction</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><br />I can't get no satisfaction</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><br />'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><br />I can't get no, I can't get no</span><p> </p> <p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >When I'm drivin' in my car</span> <span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >And a man comes on the radio</span> <span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >He's telling me more and more</span> <span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >About some useless information</span> <span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >Supposed to fire my imagination</span> </p> <p> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >I can't get no, oh no no no</span> <span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Hey hey hey, that's what I say<br />I can't get no satisfaction</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >I can't get no satisfaction</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:78%;" >'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:78%;" >I can't get no, I......</span> </p>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-30252418454214303142010-06-14T22:48:00.000-07:002010-06-14T22:48:00.592-07:00I have sinned<span style="font-size:130%;">Do I feel guilty? NO! Of course not.<br /><br />Eating something I have not had for quite sometime, and something that would make my diet out of wack was a guilty pleasure. It was not one of those very special kind of food, and in actually, it was but a simple easy to prepare pancake.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/pancake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/pancake.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span>What's left of the 2 thick 7-inch dia. pancakes.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />My husband and I took an early morning walk last Saturday, and instead of driving back home after, we drove to <a href="http://www.dennys.com/en/default.aspx?title=Denny%27s+Home">Denny's Restaurant</a>, a 24-hour eatery, and had breakfast there. I ordered 2 pancakes and coffee. I slathered the butter and poured the syrup over my pancakes and ate it, savoring every morsel. Hmmm...it was heavenly. I know that the butter would clog my arteries, and the sugary syrup would feed those little creepy crawly cells inside of me, and attack me later on. But life is getting shorter to not enjoy it.<br /><br />I will end up in a pine box anyway, but I will have enjoyed life and I'll have a fun ride. WOO HOO!<br /><br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-68457040806424806102010-06-09T09:26:00.000-07:002010-06-09T09:30:33.499-07:00Been wondering<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid03qXJVAEOziNWm4kj8LeoBpj9-zUtqhp4RY8ht8a9ZLmxYFT2yr47yaNSaiXRyyvsVP_MMptyR7GOKHPmuxZVFqFSm1b3NkuHo-Ps9MXtdIJeRspXExvlTO0RR_bVbS2pHq2/s1600/wallet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid03qXJVAEOziNWm4kj8LeoBpj9-zUtqhp4RY8ht8a9ZLmxYFT2yr47yaNSaiXRyyvsVP_MMptyR7GOKHPmuxZVFqFSm1b3NkuHo-Ps9MXtdIJeRspXExvlTO0RR_bVbS2pHq2/s320/wallet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480196379534107106" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I found a wallet many years ago. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It was on a weekday, when my co-workers and I took a lunch break. We parked on the street, and while I dug for coins in my purse to feed the parking meter, the two went ahead to the restaurant to get a table. As I rushed to join them, I saw the wallet on the sidewalk. I looked around to see if the owner was still around, but there was no one in my immediate surrounding. I went ahead to the restaurant and showed my boss and her associate what I found - an inexpensive blue cloth wallet. She, my boss, opened the wallet and counted the money. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">There was a total of $27 in one dollar denomination; no ID card. But there was a library card with the owner's name.<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />"A young girl owns this," she said. That's obvious since it didn't have a driver's license, no credit cards, receipts or other stuff that clutter older people's wallet.<br /><br />After work, I went to the nearest library which was about 3 miles away from the office and dropped the wallet there. The young woman at the counter looked inside the wallet and counted the money. She then wound a tape around it and let me go. She did not get my name, nor my phone number.<br /><br />That was many years ago...maybe about 8 or so. I never went back to the library.<br /><br />I'm just wondering now, if Allison (I forgot her last name), who by this time could be in her 20's, has ever been reunited with her wallet.<br /><br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-44819205261429092752010-05-27T21:30:00.000-07:002010-06-08T08:28:44.000-07:00Found keys!<span style="font-size:130%;">My husband and I take a walk in the evening at the bike path, by the river. It is 2 miles down the hill from where we live. We drive there, park our car and walk at the pedestrian lane alongside the bike path. We go eastward for half an hour and back for another half hour.<br /><br />About 2 weeks ago, on a nice warm early evening we did the same routine. On the way back to our car we saw a sign taped on the drinking fountain's post that said, "If you found keys pls. call 000-000-0000. Tks." A few yards away my husband saw the keys hanging on the latch of the gate that led to the parking lot. He took the keys and handed it to me. I pulled the sign and tried to call the owner, but I didn't get an answer.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNaqEjJ1h5RPlZ2fGZfgpq7df5OaIH9OLLIylPANB9BIn2dNNLIgqlkAK0dTPNwI7QWIdAtATyxVrn44k_xJCnjXc-4c-Tg-cLH0edS1Bh2bEf7E1hPz0hgLiiDcdTn-VkKz_7/s1600/keys.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNaqEjJ1h5RPlZ2fGZfgpq7df5OaIH9OLLIylPANB9BIn2dNNLIgqlkAK0dTPNwI7QWIdAtATyxVrn44k_xJCnjXc-4c-Tg-cLH0edS1Bh2bEf7E1hPz0hgLiiDcdTn-VkKz_7/s320/keys.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475823913762006242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">The next morning I called the number again and an answering machine turned on and I left a message and my land line phone number. In less than 5 minutes my phone rang and it was the owner. I told him I have his keys and he can come and get it. I gave him the direction to my house.<br /><br />At 9 AM my door bell rang. He was on the dot. I opened the door and saw a tall man (over 6' in height). He is about 35 - 40 years old with a few gray hair near his temples. Nicely built, kind of like a </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Jackman">Hugh Jackman</a> type.<br /><br />We did the usual greetings then I handed him his note and his keys. He thanked me profusely, then shook my hand; wished me a nice day and left.<br /><br />Hey, come back any time! We'll have coffee, tea, or beer, you and me.<br /><br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-82845664490744230392010-05-18T22:17:00.000-07:002010-05-19T09:41:46.827-07:00On the brink of death.<span style="font-size:130%;">We left the Reserve a little before 2 PM and headed toward the city of Lancaster. Near the freeway entrance is a shopping center where we found a Mexican Market that has an eatery inside, and we had our late lunch there. After we had our meal, we did a little bit of shopping. Then before we headed out the door, my husband went back to the food area to buy some chicharon. They have big ones, some over a foot in length. They are sold by the pound.<br /><br />On the drive back home I was sad. My first digital, now 6 years old, is about to go kaput. My husband said it's about time I buy a new and better one; a dslr—digital single-lens reflex. I don't need a dslr camera. A simple camera would be enough for me. I am not aiming to be a professional photographer.</span><p></p><p><br /><table style="width: 500px; height: 170px;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr height="25%"><td rowspan="1" valign="top" width="164"><img naturalsizeflag="3" src="http://www.imaging-resource.com/PRODS/CS50/ZCS50A.JPG" align="bottom" border="0" height="170" width="250" /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Canon PowerShot S50<br />My first digital camera, on the brink of death. :-( </span><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;">I bought my first camera when I was in high school. I don't remember what happened to it. My second one, a hand-me-down from my father; a Kodak. Another Kodak hand-me-down, was my third. Then a Petri, was my fourth. It lasted me a long time, until it stopped working. I don't know where it is now, probably in the dump somewhere. I replaced it with a Nikon, which this time I bought. It is the most sophisticated camera I ever have. It has a zoom lens of 70 to 200. Finding this camera too cumbersome to carry around, I bought a point-and-shoot—a Nikon Lite, my last film camera.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">A couple of the pictures I posted on my last publication <a href="http://zmorenaq.blogspot.com/2010/05/hills-are-alive.html">below</a>, was taken by my husband with his ancient digital camera. His first and only camera. If I'm not mistaken he bought it over a decade ago; and cost him an arm and...perhaps a leg. He's so proud of it. It uses 3 1/2” floppy discs; and downloads the pictures in a pc with a 3 1/2” floppy drive. It does take good pictures.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4NeI2q3B3fZce1CfFaBM62Dkuh8K2QzOEriKZVK-QIAZhY6C1FMYCvTYro_l_hwBBzvwFKaoMgu_Ta7Da7v-7NcyuvsrEt7lbbLyv6gnDgkWmT2OgvAgQMUvc6I3NVQ3gtzC5/s1600/Vic's+cam.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4NeI2q3B3fZce1CfFaBM62Dkuh8K2QzOEriKZVK-QIAZhY6C1FMYCvTYro_l_hwBBzvwFKaoMgu_Ta7Da7v-7NcyuvsrEt7lbbLyv6gnDgkWmT2OgvAgQMUvc6I3NVQ3gtzC5/s320/Vic's+cam.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472759855086172434" border="0" /></a></span>Sony Digital Mavica MVC-FD91<br /><span style="font-size:100%;">My husband's ancient digital camera.</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Now before heading straight home from Lancaster, we stopped at Sam's Club to do a little grocery shopping. I went directly to their camera department to see what they have. I readily picked up a Canon PowerShot SX20IS, the least expensive of the lot; asked a few questions from the sales associate then went on with our shopping.<br /><br />That night I browsed the internet to see more cameras, and their prices. My heart was dead set on the SX20IS. I like the features and 95% of the reviews were good. The price is almost the same as my first digital, a Canon PowerShot S50. Digital cameras nowadays are less expensive than the first ones, as the prices get more competitive.<br /><br />Two days later I went to Best Buy to see again for myself the camera; to handle it and see all the features. I like it very much.<br /><br />The next morning I worked on my camera. Blew whatever dust got stuck in it, then gingerly pushed the cover to close it. I put the battery in then slid open the cover, and the lens came out. Alleluia! It's working! It's working! I took some shots to test it and yes...yes, it's working.<br /></span><br /><img id="PROD_mainImg" src="http://ak.buy.com/db_assets/prod_lrg_images/597/211933597.jpg" border="0" width="250" /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">The Canon PowerShot SX20IS.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">But, I'm still thinking of that one above, the Canon PowerShot SX20IS. Where is my piggy bank</span>?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-53849304328808857622010-05-09T16:49:00.000-07:002010-05-09T16:54:19.173-07:00The hills are alive...<span style="font-size:130%;">...with poppy flowers. Well, rolling plains, is more like it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">To beat the crowd, hubby and I drove up to Lancaster one Friday morning to see for the first time the California poppies I've been hearing about. Lancaster is 45 miles from my place, and the California Poppy Reserve is another 15 miles from the hub of the city. After exiting freeway 14 we drove through a single lane paved road, and passed an expanse of land without any vegetation, except for a few Joshua trees, some tumbleweeds, and other desert weeds. This place is high desert; windy and extremely cold or hot. Getting closer to the Reserve one can see the wild flowers scattered along the road and beyond. The color of yellow-orange is so vivid I was tempted to stop the car and take a closer look. Some cars have parked on the shoulder to take pictures of the flowers.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdFUyEEDBGTjLb20eQDnRs-gXCTOirOyoUS37fkfmT-a7jzChaVSNeLC3lmyu0KXM3n5J0jfodlauHmMCwFxn4zvxjGFUQ3tylMl0v3A9mMB9lDhXOpLFLtLYjAjeezYkkUQz/s1600/IMG_4046.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdFUyEEDBGTjLb20eQDnRs-gXCTOirOyoUS37fkfmT-a7jzChaVSNeLC3lmyu0KXM3n5J0jfodlauHmMCwFxn4zvxjGFUQ3tylMl0v3A9mMB9lDhXOpLFLtLYjAjeezYkkUQz/s320/IMG_4046.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469407877785884306" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;">This shot was taken a couple of miles before the reserve,<br />and while the car was running. </span><br />(Click image to enlarge.)<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Since our destination was the Reserve my husband just kept driving till we reached the place. There is ample parking with fee, of course; restrooms with portable lavatories; picnic tables, and benches along the trails. As usual, it was windy and a bit cold, so I donned my spare light jacket to keep warm; and braced myself from being knocked down or blown away. :-D.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8PqDbPCTxFyH_uXAvXMIEfMkGFkJay-EQSeDdBVBrZamSKMZtNK1qCoQWX4jo6JmezSTXV9w62Sfv1Z9-yhSeM-fVkf3vQ3FEENq3QWM3KO_-mohFlYwE9JFoapYFp0IPkId/s1600/panorama.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 98px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8PqDbPCTxFyH_uXAvXMIEfMkGFkJay-EQSeDdBVBrZamSKMZtNK1qCoQWX4jo6JmezSTXV9w62Sfv1Z9-yhSeM-fVkf3vQ3FEENq3QWM3KO_-mohFlYwE9JFoapYFp0IPkId/s320/panorama.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469407252820542562" border="0" /></a></span>A panoramic view.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQfq9nEsUqKVv5KrHhGi_jZgwncMJEwAL4Y4D94eJn8vEsvlgnNZGfjzMwtI6TIIUkMYuQA_ziRGxFE19-sypfUkZzbrX_Biidacs9xaLus6UnkV-T0OjnNCUH9vacNmT8FJ3/s1600/poppy_5.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQfq9nEsUqKVv5KrHhGi_jZgwncMJEwAL4Y4D94eJn8vEsvlgnNZGfjzMwtI6TIIUkMYuQA_ziRGxFE19-sypfUkZzbrX_Biidacs9xaLus6UnkV-T0OjnNCUH9vacNmT8FJ3/s320/poppy_5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469407870386030802" border="0" /></a></span>Poppies as far as the eye can see.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DaBsU6m3nLittTXDg3QinG2t2rlOxG53QYUgWcKGtIMjcyP6886khyphenhyphenc2hyV8oKIKKfpzI9J7rHeM3TQTaY6ZGn_eWc5BaQVb6yohi3ueonG-rj_4vXPnNT1uvu3trrd3ViR8/s1600/poppy_4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DaBsU6m3nLittTXDg3QinG2t2rlOxG53QYUgWcKGtIMjcyP6886khyphenhyphenc2hyV8oKIKKfpzI9J7rHeM3TQTaY6ZGn_eWc5BaQVb6yohi3ueonG-rj_4vXPnNT1uvu3trrd3ViR8/s320/poppy_4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469407282421724914" border="0" /></a>The California State flower, up close...<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Wpdyf8j0wkJe5CyTeqPzKwtkWpRkcGVy6Pmmw_R1SnSPeSem-IgSyY7t_EWp7tqAF-SAZ3cj4M45mSdnYp92pjiAUde6h2tQ3SIRrU10tIv7MfMTXDnGqCvzVFVeZpV43Zoo/s1600/poppy_3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Wpdyf8j0wkJe5CyTeqPzKwtkWpRkcGVy6Pmmw_R1SnSPeSem-IgSyY7t_EWp7tqAF-SAZ3cj4M45mSdnYp92pjiAUde6h2tQ3SIRrU10tIv7MfMTXDnGqCvzVFVeZpV43Zoo/s320/poppy_3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469407277320349906" border="0" /></a>...and windblown.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75Ok_F83tqiw2nhCEeQ3Dy35OowU1r3O169brNhb_McBlEwhNRRXiDNCUshqFqGQYH6upfT8ITKFh56K5V9sH1sbXwXW2SYjQTxKVtvdILJd9NK5R4Iff5bw8n25gZehemszu/s1600/flags.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75Ok_F83tqiw2nhCEeQ3Dy35OowU1r3O169brNhb_McBlEwhNRRXiDNCUshqFqGQYH6upfT8ITKFh56K5V9sH1sbXwXW2SYjQTxKVtvdILJd9NK5R4Iff5bw8n25gZehemszu/s320/flags.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469407246879396882" border="0" /></a>The Old Glory and the California flag flying high.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div><span style="font-size:130%;">I took shots of the hilly place, and close-up of the flowers. Then my camera's cover got stuck. And that was the end of my shooting spree. Oh, darn. I think, dust got in it. At any rate, above were some of the shots I took.<br /><br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-71675179101488428092010-05-02T17:50:00.000-07:002010-05-02T17:50:22.264-07:00Destination Redondo Beach...again.<span style="font-size:130%;">It has been only the past month that I have gone back to Redondo Beach. Three months previous to that, I was on a journey that did not allow me to venture outdoors that much. I did some short trips to grocery stores, with my husband, for our basic needs. On the last Saturday of the month of April was my second trip back there. Hubby and I always go there and we head out to make it just in time for lunch.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq_w30jJtnK062UWYVHxsEv8jfhmO72ThxRFXEbVlIpd8WQVpjhp2JM_esgbGO2iTd9iFlQmHxMUZenKvYRvIRf75MSdni2b3xl-FT8xM-QTzlPmLmlLn1BBk1NOUoa-t9DYXw/s1600/spicy+soup.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq_w30jJtnK062UWYVHxsEv8jfhmO72ThxRFXEbVlIpd8WQVpjhp2JM_esgbGO2iTd9iFlQmHxMUZenKvYRvIRf75MSdni2b3xl-FT8xM-QTzlPmLmlLn1BBk1NOUoa-t9DYXw/s320/spicy+soup.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466820108544364578" border="0" /></a></span>Spicy seafood soup.<br />(click image to enlarge)<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Our favorite lunch place is a Korean Restaurant right on the pier. We have tried other restaurants, on the pier and on the boardwalk, but theirs have the best seafood soup. It consists of chunks of halibut, slices of tofu, slices of daikon, some pre-cooked shrimps, napa or Chinese cabbage, onions, green onions, and Korean chili powder. It is chili hot; and the first time I had it, heat seemed to come out from my nose, ears and eyes. But now I'm used to it. The order is served in the wok it was cooked in, and it comes with a bowl of rice for each person and a bowl of kim chee.<br /><br />We strolled the pier and the boardwalk, after we had our fill of the soup. Fish were not biting much that day. I've seen only a few fishermen catch mackerel, which usually swim by the pier.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqGnCC_JcuqoHBGw3hIFQ4d3_UJ5qOaQ8wX57TThuZYcK0Gq_3vdT7aW-657LVqRkfvhSOyjtX8Knu4XBeEoVMfAFynDOlKmdKRmpSQOg63HXpvs9ffx4p58qe0c0FvOJquzY/s1600/bird+eating.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqGnCC_JcuqoHBGw3hIFQ4d3_UJ5qOaQ8wX57TThuZYcK0Gq_3vdT7aW-657LVqRkfvhSOyjtX8Knu4XBeEoVMfAFynDOlKmdKRmpSQOg63HXpvs9ffx4p58qe0c0FvOJquzY/s320/bird+eating.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466433309266445426" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">Something interesting would always catch our eyes, each time we are there, like this bird who was about to gulp his/her 3rd fish head left by fishermen on the cutting table. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm4I3OQG0vf0jwxIyurmxtPBeYvBIlF9S9WfxoYiU2lDbK2Yp7w5K8PvnDM3DaO9f3JCQRNCVXygn6G0mUaAJAQqu5CtpQDCPf3nXqeYxrLrjEafHdQTYrCMz7upFrVlxxT7OO/s1600/bird+feedin.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm4I3OQG0vf0jwxIyurmxtPBeYvBIlF9S9WfxoYiU2lDbK2Yp7w5K8PvnDM3DaO9f3JCQRNCVXygn6G0mUaAJAQqu5CtpQDCPf3nXqeYxrLrjEafHdQTYrCMz7upFrVlxxT7OO/s320/bird+feedin.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466433312393333570" border="0" /></a>Farther down the pier was a man feeding pigeons...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyPsNRHdLdj1xBWJoiEauEi-wcs5K_vYd9mtIvmlUSwD91tlbMwVBfmNpkCVY-C7CyLuf8JZH9GEcFck02E8FCl3PLcxqxLJBQfoPcUGr5ieZrRG24353mm_1VQ5baJ1OzWaK/s1600/pelican.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyPsNRHdLdj1xBWJoiEauEi-wcs5K_vYd9mtIvmlUSwD91tlbMwVBfmNpkCVY-C7CyLuf8JZH9GEcFck02E8FCl3PLcxqxLJBQfoPcUGr5ieZrRG24353mm_1VQ5baJ1OzWaK/s320/pelican.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466820100006819218" border="0" /></a>...while this pelican would rather take a rest...and then, finally, dosed off.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWu59Zg8UdKe97ql16-163C9eJnxcKCIqDre4HZiHK9VZHDlCuJbqZblxChOk30JiDNofldJbnPNIRGLQySB0zZkXSd2_y_QW1mZ2UJYCKLHl5CQ9FDe2FlDr4ZjObgJ1V1jz/s1600/fishing+boat.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWu59Zg8UdKe97ql16-163C9eJnxcKCIqDre4HZiHK9VZHDlCuJbqZblxChOk30JiDNofldJbnPNIRGLQySB0zZkXSd2_y_QW1mZ2UJYCKLHl5CQ9FDe2FlDr4ZjObgJ1V1jz/s320/fishing+boat.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466433327050448450" border="0" /></a>A fishing boat being trailed by a flock of birds waiting for hand outs from the fishermen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTO_jzpQ7gyNVIhi24aee1eoFgNwhpEQeRlMtqTGyGdvt3cWq1pabihw_aqaDn8XGaC4YX2Dsao8V8h3ZKeFPhSw0I8M7tHTmmIA9Gw1FBy5SDeNkrXD4Tbuf1me20m_o-KsY/s1600/guy+on+brd.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTO_jzpQ7gyNVIhi24aee1eoFgNwhpEQeRlMtqTGyGdvt3cWq1pabihw_aqaDn8XGaC4YX2Dsao8V8h3ZKeFPhSw0I8M7tHTmmIA9Gw1FBy5SDeNkrXD4Tbuf1me20m_o-KsY/s320/guy+on+brd.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466820088491947506" border="0" /></a><br />A lone man paddling by himself. Paddle and board can be rented by the boat slips.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTxk9x4vm19PTN3HDb85FBwU51rsMHUxtqdMPDiWoIq85N-UVyibKdih4okCbBiWaMZN5LmgCDZuDvxPfrBAAzYh9YZBOie_4nz_Sknrb8V0ALNKHC74nBS8zW6adbqv-dpXu/s1600/clams.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTxk9x4vm19PTN3HDb85FBwU51rsMHUxtqdMPDiWoIq85N-UVyibKdih4okCbBiWaMZN5LmgCDZuDvxPfrBAAzYh9YZBOie_4nz_Sknrb8V0ALNKHC74nBS8zW6adbqv-dpXu/s320/clams.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466433325347523634" border="0" /></a><br />Clams on a race to the top of the rock. I wonder how long it took them to reach the top. :-D<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtzsLP5Jt0SDVIBgv4KNUXVP8J9xf8t77TP9_1UZvu-FZU8QA0H1vdlHeN2hC4pRxR-IvOd_6HC6a1EYUfX0af3i0HioC_PXSaI8PHv6DdwPUSL35f7w3k9aFojoDpiN-7F-fR/s1600/spider+crabs.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtzsLP5Jt0SDVIBgv4KNUXVP8J9xf8t77TP9_1UZvu-FZU8QA0H1vdlHeN2hC4pRxR-IvOd_6HC6a1EYUfX0af3i0HioC_PXSaI8PHv6DdwPUSL35f7w3k9aFojoDpiN-7F-fR/s320/spider+crabs.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466824241380879986" border="0" /></a><br />Dried spider crabs.<br /><br /><span><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span>Inside the fish store we found that prices of fish have gone up. Up high.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0YYMBzL85zyyezdn5m3mK-C5s0esgTa4y7D80YnjV4oiLQWSysKBmLCSCkJYaKdooWIXWaIiJX50KSnJsnX9zaltZ63l52wWkCyrL_-9dnH1rXau_xALlWu9vgX6pmF3Wref/s1600/tilapia.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0YYMBzL85zyyezdn5m3mK-C5s0esgTa4y7D80YnjV4oiLQWSysKBmLCSCkJYaKdooWIXWaIiJX50KSnJsnX9zaltZ63l52wWkCyrL_-9dnH1rXau_xALlWu9vgX6pmF3Wref/s320/tilapia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466824242665593730" border="0" /></a>Tilapia...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9F5fwS-nwgLfmM-_SCgymqKtPJBvKTwvenrWQ48zAk4Hhw4THRLqBZ4Zz1yFPXDQ3308blw26lBtNnFrmWKFvCgKW7FnSleN5gqo4jbR4CMP2LtQs6M9mb81WtMkWSbobgDjv/s1600/red+snappers.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9F5fwS-nwgLfmM-_SCgymqKtPJBvKTwvenrWQ48zAk4Hhw4THRLqBZ4Zz1yFPXDQ3308blw26lBtNnFrmWKFvCgKW7FnSleN5gqo4jbR4CMP2LtQs6M9mb81WtMkWSbobgDjv/s320/red+snappers.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466824236035052274" border="0" /></a>...and red snapper.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqE742n3jbfKqHGRcXbUXxXO0mCsfLUVQndVtlsDixg_pDKX9ssEp3QGFfZNlvks9t-x06t4O0eR6LYcQtrdKXpwMV6sL_vIdpah07t3z70dDwixSNMYZlG5s6WYCEO638FKDH/s1600/pedal++boat.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqE742n3jbfKqHGRcXbUXxXO0mCsfLUVQndVtlsDixg_pDKX9ssEp3QGFfZNlvks9t-x06t4O0eR6LYcQtrdKXpwMV6sL_vIdpah07t3z70dDwixSNMYZlG5s6WYCEO638FKDH/s320/pedal++boat.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466820094924673602" border="0" /></a><br />By the boat slips a family was pedaling a rental boat. They had a hard time maneuvering it as it didn't have a steering wheel. The pedals are used to steer it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuPZ_n4PVDKBEXJvRowU39EPhgpMmZWOnKh_8LZekc44-SVso9Tsy9F_wiS3os3Vpt0kwGiyxBYzW_wSDI6SLVRwt396AtkPLJnd6dskn-x7ctlYip58mu7Hjy6n1AJxicJV_/s1600/girls+biking.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuPZ_n4PVDKBEXJvRowU39EPhgpMmZWOnKh_8LZekc44-SVso9Tsy9F_wiS3os3Vpt0kwGiyxBYzW_wSDI6SLVRwt396AtkPLJnd6dskn-x7ctlYip58mu7Hjy6n1AJxicJV_/s320/girls+biking.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466824224588693474" border="0" /></a><br />Two girls walking their bikes on the lower board walk. Bike paths are on the upper boardwalk where they can ride their bikes.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxkTdZ6My2STQfxPXtr4igrbUoraKzHaRMJNC4ZjOv4NV-B_fxjj55c7bgNoeoVGr6hyphenhyphenAuml5ewgYlMHGAp28oOE4sPzrkcM8KyvjD38a0QD2mLMbJnUOUisqbDn8usPPlO7c/s1600/bikes.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxkTdZ6My2STQfxPXtr4igrbUoraKzHaRMJNC4ZjOv4NV-B_fxjj55c7bgNoeoVGr6hyphenhyphenAuml5ewgYlMHGAp28oOE4sPzrkcM8KyvjD38a0QD2mLMbJnUOUisqbDn8usPPlO7c/s320/bikes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466433303346141778" border="0" /></a>These two having fun with their converted bikes.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhchyJwUY_y7Oo22AcJwmQInqt1NWVGqMxl9h_Ogp12GiitIskLAcSx2liF00kIwP4gOhJDsFE65BnGKt17hF52nS6xYd08FuG5AzaURsAua2vgcQOc0F9BUcGGKw49sYIcWYJL/s1600/plane+landing.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhchyJwUY_y7Oo22AcJwmQInqt1NWVGqMxl9h_Ogp12GiitIskLAcSx2liF00kIwP4gOhJDsFE65BnGKt17hF52nS6xYd08FuG5AzaURsAua2vgcQOc0F9BUcGGKw49sYIcWYJL/s320/plane+landing.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466824230452638690" border="0" /></a><br />And on our way home, a plane with a Swiss flag at its tail was ready to land at the Los Angeles International Airport, a few miles from the freeway.<br /><br />We were home in 45 minutes. What a day!<br /><br /><br /></div></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-13247122630741960692010-04-23T15:47:00.000-07:002010-04-24T17:31:17.591-07:00A birthday bash at 85!<span style="font-size:130%;">I figured we would be half an hour </span><span style="font-size:130%;">late</span><span style="font-size:130%;">, but it went beyond that. We, my husband and I, got to the party an hour late. It started at 11 AM and was to end 3:30 PM, so an hour was not bad. The food was buffet style, and there were still plenty left. On our way there, we made a wrong turn and got past our exit on the freeway. We exited after noticing that we reached the next town already, and we looked for familiar street names. We found one, and drove till we got there. The party was well underway, but some tables still have empty chairs left, so we grabbed a couple for us.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93idHAyPhUn9WiJzs8z_djnMcs_3zbiAVLcGazRqXRsxbUdQU-9nMliuXOUfzSjOjVTF7t0CnP5xIbA5c2EErhQ83xOA5xxW_461oKY0O9ummVPP2TARkISRYtxkqz4W6Hx4I/s1600/IMG_4007+%28Modified+in+GIMP+Image+Editor+%283%29%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 157px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93idHAyPhUn9WiJzs8z_djnMcs_3zbiAVLcGazRqXRsxbUdQU-9nMliuXOUfzSjOjVTF7t0CnP5xIbA5c2EErhQ83xOA5xxW_461oKY0O9ummVPP2TARkISRYtxkqz4W6Hx4I/s400/IMG_4007+%28Modified+in+GIMP+Image+Editor+%283%29%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463445524777902642" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;">The invitation.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(click image to enlarge)</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;">The birthday girl...err...celebrant was my landlady some decades ago. Till now she never forgets to invite me and my husband at her parties. When she turned 80 five years ago, we were there to celebrate with her. It was a casual party with a few friends in attendance. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I gave her a 16" x 20" oil painting.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBETkXrfJBQbhWP-s7pMhD9WwcOXNsnJVNi5zSlHNB6XqAMm3qzMzckgcl8nNu54XiMLmnmeiEg4khk7E-EGRZZOTtb0rw62h7okpMVqtpGUgj1M42Sv2xG5tmZx7bUTbR8psJ/s1600/IMG_3993+%28Modified%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBETkXrfJBQbhWP-s7pMhD9WwcOXNsnJVNi5zSlHNB6XqAMm3qzMzckgcl8nNu54XiMLmnmeiEg4khk7E-EGRZZOTtb0rw62h7okpMVqtpGUgj1M42Sv2xG5tmZx7bUTbR8psJ/s320/IMG_3993+%28Modified%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463446756043087282" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;">This time, I gave her an 8" x 10" painting I did summer of 2009.<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSv8hNRbYBDje2HTUVj3X_cBtf_tjMycRjjRsD1bH_Vh-M5yAHk04FSt2tqX0mRxjWfv-wNLw9odFkOiPVFWv3hyphenhypheneP6qVpLUU77ES1pzx9YC8rA2c6x5scx4y3GP5ptR7JhZnZ/s1600/IMG_3997+%28Modified%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSv8hNRbYBDje2HTUVj3X_cBtf_tjMycRjjRsD1bH_Vh-M5yAHk04FSt2tqX0mRxjWfv-wNLw9odFkOiPVFWv3hyphenhypheneP6qVpLUU77ES1pzx9YC8rA2c6x5scx4y3GP5ptR7JhZnZ/s320/IMG_3997+%28Modified%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463453418988286818" border="0" /></a>The celebrant dancing with a guest.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Now turning 85 is a bigger milestone. More people were invited and she was dressed to the hilt in a white, lacy embroidered gown. It is amazing that at her age she can still dance a little, though I noticed that she has a bit of a hunch and has a hard time getting on her feet. She has some gray hair; some wrinkles; but all in all she looks fantastic, and very alert. Except for the stiffness of joints she could pass for a 60-year-old. </span><br /></div></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxno6-84VNRmlkubm8lAQP_RhOlXR427CAlM3_v4Bku-Un3FrU1uc4XTEqgkiINK0Qm9ADfG_jLkns8_ysdJBQAaY6MsE6Njfl6JbXRTnQxBVIlmpa7-7nrJmZnz5WBTd98hpN/s1600/IMG_3999+%28Modified%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 147px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxno6-84VNRmlkubm8lAQP_RhOlXR427CAlM3_v4Bku-Un3FrU1uc4XTEqgkiINK0Qm9ADfG_jLkns8_ysdJBQAaY6MsE6Njfl6JbXRTnQxBVIlmpa7-7nrJmZnz5WBTd98hpN/s200/IMG_3999+%28Modified%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463456276616629154" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;">The celebrant with some guests.</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />There was a short program that included a toast with a brief biography of the celebrant; introduction of the offspring and their children; her siblings and their spouses and children. This party was given to her by her 3 children. The oldest now in his late forties; the middle, a woman in her forties, married with children; and the youngest in his early forties, married with children, as well. The celebrant's husband and father of the children passed away sometime in the 1970s. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyf7aLKMQdC2ZZ2xihkC-HveNuSkbGqL2OENOmOEiEcKHJ1W7MIc_If_yVnQyUcdcPSqpawLPEAxfBdbvPiPoNWbxE2Kg6ZpiWz4Hf_LUhDVeb67w8_uYScjexyZjh79HNTCxa/s1600/IMG_3998+%28Modified%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyf7aLKMQdC2ZZ2xihkC-HveNuSkbGqL2OENOmOEiEcKHJ1W7MIc_If_yVnQyUcdcPSqpawLPEAxfBdbvPiPoNWbxE2Kg6ZpiWz4Hf_LUhDVeb67w8_uYScjexyZjh79HNTCxa/s320/IMG_3998+%28Modified%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463457297981697042" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Guests hitting the dance floor.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">And, as usual, in any Filipino party there is always dancing. As soon as the music was on everyone was at the floor doing their line dancing, cha-chas, and mambos...except for me. I have forgotten the steps of those dances, and besides my husband has 2 left feet. With a slow dance, he always stepped on my foot. Ouch! So, I'd rather not dance. Why suffer? </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />When we said good-bye to her youngest, he said, "See you in 5 years." I gave him a thumbs up. It's possible she would still be around by that time. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Would I wish to get to that age? Yes, if I could still boogie and eat without dentures.<br /><br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-23415996183181982342010-04-16T22:28:00.000-07:002010-04-19T09:30:07.740-07:00Never a dull moment<span style="font-size:130%;">I was halfway through reading my niece's email when the telephone rang. I picked it up and saw that it was my friend, <a href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/2008/02/sketch-face.html">Jun</a>. "Hello," I greeted her.<br /><br />"Good morning. How are you?" she greeted me back.<br /><br />"Good, I'm good. What's going on?"<br /><br />"Nice day today, huh?" she said. The sun was out and it seems it's going to be warmer than the previous days, where the sun peeked in and out of the clouds and there was a slight breeze.<br /><br />"Yup, better than yesterday, and the other days. Clear blue sky," I said as I looked out the window.<br /><br />"Don't you feel like going out? </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I don't want to stay home and get fungus on me," she added.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">"You mean get moldy," I said.<br /><br />"Right," she replied.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />It's a Tuesday and there's a free flea market about 6 miles from where I live. Since I've been cooped up in the house during those days, I haven't seen nor gone out with Jun and my other friends. We talked on the phone quite often, and she understood why I can't meet with her. I've gone out a lot of times mostly with my husband to do some grocery shopping. She knew that I've passed "that route" already, and figured that this time, as I have alluded to her, that I might be ready to meet her.<br /><br />"It's a little past 10 o'clock; it's still early. Okay, I'll get dressed then I'll call you."<br /><br />I have not driven my car for like 6 months and it seems I'm not sure of my confidence to drive again, unless someone is there by me. My husband drove me all those times.<br /><br />Jun promised to pick me up. I called her as soon as I was ready and she was there in my driveway in no time at all. I jumped on her car and gave her a hug. We haven't seen each other for a while and during those times she has grown her hair long. She usually wears a short hairdo.<br /><br />We chatted non-stop as she drove, till we got to the flea market. Maybe I'll be lucky this time and find some good stuff. I bought a lot of frames here. Some were used with a couple of nicks, but I retouch those with acrylic paint. Some were never used still wrapped in kraft paper. I bought some canvasses in their original wrappers, oil paints, watercolors and brushes; and the prices are unbelievably low.<br /><br />This time I got myself a small gold leafed photo frame for a 5" x 7" picture for a measly $0.75!; a pair of gel shoe insoles for $0.50; and a glass tumbler for 0.25, and all in it's original packages. The tumbler will be for my bathroom; time to replace the old beat up plastic one I have. It was not much this day, but going out there was fun and worth the time.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFPCBtBTIm_-bfJCRM9_-cpcIqqtiAmFG2Eg6QQLodRGllhr2soCZWz8ZXe46oWsltRWmmV47fC9Sc79vHusG1cl8Wm5fV5X7mndi2vjz0swFhijPSoXiBd6xHHaRb_9bNuqnZ/s1600/mari&jun.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFPCBtBTIm_-bfJCRM9_-cpcIqqtiAmFG2Eg6QQLodRGllhr2soCZWz8ZXe46oWsltRWmmV47fC9Sc79vHusG1cl8Wm5fV5X7mndi2vjz0swFhijPSoXiBd6xHHaRb_9bNuqnZ/s320/mari&jun.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460966896754361426" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(click image to enlarge)</span></span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;">After our flea market sojourn we headed for lunch at a fast food restaurant. While we ate our fish sandwiches we talked and laughed, talked and laughed, and talked and laughed some more.<br /><br />Then we drove to a nearby clothes store to shop for some clothes. Jun needed light clothes for her trip to Hawaii this coming week. She found a few she liked, and a nice bejeweled pair of sandals. I bought a cute cotton hat for me; could not find a nice, cheap...err...inexpensive pair of shoes.<br /><br />On the way home I said to Jun, "My husband isn't home. He's in prison!" Then I laughed. I have never laughed so much for quite a long time.<br /><br />"Whaaat?" was Jun's surprised question. Then she laughed, as well, realizing it was a joke. "Why you!" she added.<br /><br />"He's at the polling place; he's the inspector. Today is local election day," I said.<br /><br />She dropped me off at my house. I thanked her and we said our good-byes. We had fun. There's never a dull moment with Jun.<br /><br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-11814973328148578832010-04-03T17:44:00.000-07:002010-04-19T09:31:03.782-07:00The road less traveled<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/hell-road2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 394px; height: 200px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/hell-road2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">It's been a long while. I was on a journey, an uncertain one. The road was dark, desolate, and forbidding; but it was one I have to take. There was no other route. Along the way my life flashed before my eyes; saw myself <a href="http://zmorenaq.blogspot.com/2009/11/flash-back.html">when I was a young girl</a></span> <span style="font-size:130%;">till my adulthood. I remember my friends in high school, and wondered where they are now. I reminisced my college days; and thought about my siblings and parents.<br /><br />My life seemed to have made a screeching halt some 6 months ago, but I moved on determined to pass the dark clouds above my head. I trudged on hoping to reach the end of the lonely road; hoping to see a silver lining behind the dark clouds. And what seemed to take forever finally ended. I was there at the end of the road.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The sun was brightly shining and I basked in it. I felt the warmth on my arms, face and my bare head. What a joy!<br /><br />I have passed the dark clouds and now there was a clear blue sky. Then it dawned on me that I am not out of the woods yet. I, however, will go on and take it one day at a time... and celebrate.<br /><br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-2144075825789460622009-12-28T08:30:00.000-08:002009-12-31T09:30:08.101-08:00Thank you all...<div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">...my blogger friends who have visited,<br /></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">sent greetings by email, </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">and made comments on my posts.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">I am sorry I have not visited any of you for a while.<br /><br />Hopefully, </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">I'll be able to by next year.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">May you all have a Blessed </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">and Happy New Year!</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">Mari </span></span><br /><br /><br /></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-57740241285079457492009-11-27T21:44:00.000-08:002010-04-19T09:33:08.795-07:00Flash back<span style="font-size:130%;">The ceiling fan is slowly spinning, casting a soft shadow on the cottage-cheese-finish of the gypsum board ceiling. As I stared at it my thoughts raced back to that day when I was a kid of 10, ill in bed. The ceiling of my room was made of planks of wood with old faded white paint. I don't remember how long I've been sick; never counted the days. All I wanted was to get better and be on my feet again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">In the morning my 2 older siblings and my mom would leave for school, and I was left in the care of someone. She cooked my meals which at that time was tasteless; checked on me from time to time; and felt my temperature with the back of her hand on my forehead.<br /><br />It was so quiet during the morning until mid-afternoon. There were times I dozed off. When kids in the neighborhood were back home from school, I could hear them playing, laughing and having fun. I longed to be with them, and have fun myself.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">At this time my mom, brother and sister would be back from school, they would come and visit me in my room. My mom would check my temperature, and made sure I was doing okay; that I was getting better...not on the brink of death. I learned later on, when I was already an adult that I had pneumonia.<br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/mariat10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 202px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/mariat10.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">One day, feeling much better, I got up and tried to walk. On my first step my knees buckled under my weight and I fell on the floor. But instead of crying, I laughed. I was so happy that I could get up and be on my feet again, though shaky. A little friend who was visiting me at that time laughed with me. I would get up and try again, though knowing that I'm still weak and would hit the floor...again. Still it didn't matter. We laughed till we were spent.<br /><br />A few days later on, I was back in school; glad to be up and about.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The ceiling fan is still going on; is having a hypnotic effect, and the hum of the motor...is...lulling...me...to...s l e e p.<br /><br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-37284121392628559052009-10-22T20:35:00.000-07:002009-10-23T14:23:17.528-07:00Vote for a young hero<p><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >CNN HEROES: EFREN PENAFLORIDA</span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>CAVITE CITY, Philippines (CNN) </b> -- At 16, Rhandolf Fajardo reflects on his former life as a gang member.</span> </p> <!--startclickprintexclude--> <div id="imageChanger1"><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="cnnStoryPhotoBox"><div id="cnnImgChngr" class="cnnImgChngr"><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div id="cnnImgChngrNested"><div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="http://i.l.cnn.net/cnn/2009/LIVING/wayoflife/03/05/heroes.efren.penaflorida/art.efren.penaflorida.cnn.jpg" alt="Efren Peñaflorida's Dynamic Teen Company offers Filipino youth an alternative to gangs through education." vspace="0" width="292" height="219" hspace="0" /> </div><div class="cnnStoryPhotoCaptionBox"><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="cnn3pxTB9pxLRPad"><p style="text-align: center;"> Efren Peñaflorida's Dynamic Teen Company<br />offers Filipino youth an alternative to gangs through education. </p> </div> </div> </div><span style="font-size:130%;">"My gang mates were the most influential thing in my life," says Fajardo, who joined a gang when he was in sixth grade. "We were pressured to join."</span></div></div> </div> <script type="text/javascript"> var CNN_ArticleChanger = new CNN_imageChanger('cnnImgChngr','/2009/LIVING/wayoflife/03/05/heroes.efren.penaflorida/imgChng/p1-0.init.exclude.html',1,1); //CNN.imageChanger.load('cnnImgChngr','imgChng/p1-0.exclude.html'); </script> <!--endclickprintexclude--><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> He's not alone. In the <a href="http://topics.cnn.com/topics/philippines" class="cnnInlineTopic">Philippines</a>, teenage membership in urban gangs has surged to an estimated 130,000 in the past 10 years, according to the Preda Foundation, a local human rights charity.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> "I thought I'd get stuck in that situation and that my life would never improve," recalls Fajardo. "I would probably be in jail right now, most likely a drug addict -- if I hadn't met Efren."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Efren Peñaflorida, 28, also was bullied by <a href="http://topics.cnn.com/topics/gang_violence" class="cnnInlineTopic">gangs</a> in high school. Today, he offers Filipino youth an alternative to gang membership through education.</span></p>(Click below to vote for Efren. --Mari)<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a href="http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cnn.heroes/vote/">Vote now for the CNN Hero of the Year</a></span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> "Gang members are groomed in the slums as early as 9 years old," says Peñaflorida. "They are all victims of <a href="http://topics.cnn.com/topics/poverty" class="cnnInlineTopic">poverty</a>."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> For the past 12 years, Peñaflorida and his team of teen volunteers have taught basic reading and writing to children living on the streets. Their main tool: A pushcart classroom. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Stocked with books, pens, tables and chairs, his <a href="http://dynamicteencompany.org/" target="new">Dynamic Teen Company</a> recreates a school setting in unconventional locations such as the cemetery and municipal trash dump.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Peñaflorida knows firsthand the adversity faced by these children. Born into a poor family, he lived in a shanty near the city dump site. But he says he refused to allow his circumstances to define his future.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> "Instead of being discouraged, I promised myself that I would pursue education," he recalls. "I will strive hard; I will do my best."</span></p> <!--startclickprintexclude--> <div class="cnnStoryElementBox"><h4><span style="font-size:130%;">Don't Miss</span></h4> <ul class="cnnRelated"><li> <span style="font-size:130%;"><a target="new" href="http://dynamicteencompany.org/">Get involved: Dynamic Teen Company</a></span> </li><li> <span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cnn.heroes">In depth: CNN Heroes</a></span> </li></ul></div> <!--endclickprintexclude--><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> In high school, Peñaflorida faced a new set of challenges. Gang activity was rampant; they terrorized the student body, vandalized the school and inducted members by forcing them to rape young girls, he says.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> "I felt the social discrimination. I was afraid to walk down the street."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Peñaflorida remembers standing up to a gang leader, refusing to join his gang. That confrontation proved fateful. At 16, he and his friends "got the idea to divert teenagers like us to be productive," he says. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> He created the Dynamic Teen Company to offer his classmates an outlet to lift up themselves and their community. For Peñaflorida, that meant returning to the slums of his childhood to give kids the education he felt they deserved.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> "They need education to be successful in life. It's just giving them what others gave to me," he says.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Today, children ranging from ages 2 to 14 flock to the pushcart every Saturday to learn reading, writing, arithmetic and English from Peñaflorida and his trained teen volunteers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span class="cnnEmbeddedMosLnk" style="font-size:130%;"><img src="http://i.l.cnn.net/cnn/.element/img/2.0/mosaic/tabs/video.gif" alt="Video" width="16" border="0" height="14" /> <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/wayoflife/03/05/heroes.efren.penaflorida/index.html#cnnSTCVideo" onclick="CNN_changeMosaicTab('cnnVideoCmpnt','videos.html',true,'/video/living/2009/03/05/heroes.penaflorida.three.cnn');">Watch Peñaflorida and his group in action with their push cart classroom »</a></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> "Our volunteers serve as an inspiration to other children," he says.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> The group also runs a hygiene clinic, where children can get a bath and learn how to brush their teeth. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Since 1997, an estimated 10,000 members have helped teach more than 1,500 children living in the slums. The organization supports its efforts by making and selling crafts and collecting items to recycle.<br /></span></p><p><span class="cnnEmbeddedMosLnk" style="font-size:130%;"><img src="http://i.l.cnn.net/cnn/.element/img/2.0/mosaic/tabs/video.gif" alt="Video" width="16" border="0" height="14" /> <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/wayoflife/03/05/heroes.efren.penaflorida/index.html#cnnSTCVideo" onclick="CNN_changeMosaicTab('cnnVideoCmpnt','videos.html',true,'/video/living/2009/03/05/heroes.penaflorida.one.cnn');">Take a look at the slums where Peñaflorida and his group spend their Saturdays »</a></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Through his group, Peñaflorida has successfully mentored former gang members, <a href="http://topics.cnn.com/topics/drug_addiction" class="cnnInlineTopic">addicts</a> and dropouts, seeing potential where others see problems.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> "Before, I really didn't care for my life," says Michael Advincula, who started doing drugs when he was 7. "But then Efren patiently dug me from where I was buried. It was Efren who pushed me to get my life together."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span class="cnnEmbeddedMosLnk" style="font-size:130%;"><img src="http://i.l.cnn.net/cnn/.element/img/2.0/mosaic/tabs/video.gif" alt="Video" width="16" border="0" height="14" /> <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/wayoflife/03/05/heroes.efren.penaflorida/index.html#cnnSTCVideo" onclick="CNN_changeMosaicTab('cnnVideoCmpnt','videos.html',true,'/video/living/2009/03/05/heroes.penaflorida.two.cnn');">Watch Advincula describe how he met Peñaflorida in the slums »</a></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Today, Advincula is a senior in high school and one of the group's volunteers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"> Peñaflorida hopes to expand the pushcart to other areas, giving more children the chance to learn and stay out of gangs.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;">"I always tell my volunteers that you are the change that you dream and I am the change that I dream. And collectively we are the change that this world needs to be."<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">************************<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Voting is being conducted through an online poll at CNN.com/Heroes, ending November 19 (6 a.m. ET)<br /></span></div></div><span style="font-size:130%;">Source: CNN.com<br /><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-1706678280631691132009-10-17T16:09:00.000-07:002009-10-17T16:09:02.441-07:00A little help would go a long way...<div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" > </span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/flyer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 393px; height: 539px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/flyer.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Click image to enlarge.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Below is a forwarded message I got in my email. I thought I would post it here rather than forward it again.<br /><br /><blockquote></blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;">Hi Folks,<br /></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I'm sure you do want to help our poor people back home in the Philippines--we cannot but see the reality of their situation--it is all over the news, TV, radio, internet, etc. and it is truly heart-breaking and heartrending.<br /><br /></span></span> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" > </span></div> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Well - God provided an easy way to help - He touched the hearts of the owners of MAYFLOWER RESTAURANT in Chinatown (Los Angeles, CA) . They are offering 50% of whatever sale they will generate on TUESDAY, OCTOBER 27 - FROM 10:00 a.m.. - 10:00 p.m. (Please see attached flyer)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">This will only cost you whatever you are willing to pay for a meal - at the same time that you are helping our kapwa Pilipino!</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></div> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" > </span></div> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" >But you can help further and go an extra mile by forwarding this email / flyer to all your friends, co-workers, etc - and by word of mouth - invite them to join you for a meal at Mayflower Restaurant - you can also ask your Pastors, Employers, etc. to have the flyer posted on your bulletin - the more people who will eat there - the more funds we can get .<br /><br /></span></div> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" > </span></div> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" >It is really very simple, isn't it - so I am hoping to see you there on the 27th with everybody you can invite - let us match the generosity of Ha and his family - it took a Chinese Restaurant to think of this very creative and generous way of being in solidarity with those who are suffering - God will bless them abundantly.<br /><br /></span></div> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" > </span></div> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" >Salamat po mula sa puso at pagpalain tayong lahat ng Diyos!<br /><br /></span></div> <div style="font-style: italic;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" > </span></div> <div><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Sr. M. Christina, rgs</span><blockquote></blockquote></span></div><br /><br /></div></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-53923942106858089232009-08-26T22:05:00.000-07:002009-08-27T00:51:06.323-07:00Little Tokyo in a day.<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">overdue post<br /><br />i have put this post on hold since the assault of a vengeful right hand. it took upon itself to cut the left finger on the other hand as it had alleged it doesn't do much work as itself does. however, the revenge boomeranged. it is doing much more work now; and can't wait for the victim to heal of its wound.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">so does my husband who the other day asked me, </span><span style="font-size:130%;">"when are your stitches going to be taken out?" my evil eyes looked at him and i gave him an evil smile and said, "why? are you tired of washing dishes?" he smiled his sweetest. hah...hah...hah. he probably appreciates now what i do in the kitchen--the same boring chore day in and day out. he helps, but i do the heavier stuff.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><h3 class="post-titleentry-title"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">in any event, i will put this in publication as it is now long over due. </span> </span><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: normal;"><div style="text-align: left;"><h3 style="font-weight: bold;" class="post-titleentry-title"><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-weight: normal;">Little Tokyo in a rush</span></span></h3><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">My friend, <a href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/2008/02/sketch-face.html">Jun</a>, asked me to accompany her to the Japanese Consulate in downtown Los Angeles. Jun is of Japanese citizenship; and has been in this country for over 40 years. She, however, has not changed her citizenship despite the fact that she once was married to an American and has 3 beautiful children with him. She goes to the consulate to update her papers or status...or whatever.</span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Jun.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 240px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Jun.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">click image to enlarge</span><br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size:100%;">We met at the parking lot of the smaller train station, about 3 miles from my house. This one has a smaller lot and it was almost full when I got there at about 9:00 in the morning. We were to catch the 9:45 train. She came a few minutes after I got there. We got our tickets; boarded the train; and we were at the Union Station 55 minutes later.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">We boarded the same bus as I did with my husband, and got off right across the street of the building -- </span><a style="font-weight: normal;" href="http://www.you-are-here.com/los_angeles/californiaplaza.html"><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">Two California Plaza</span></a> <span style="font-weight: normal;">on South Grand Ave.</span> <span style="font-weight: normal;">The skyscraper has 52 stories constructed of concrete, glass and steel; and of modern architecture.</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Security was tight that we have to present our IDs at</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/nametag_2-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 129px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/nametag_2-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></div></div><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">the front desk and they handed us a computer printed name tags we stuck on our clothes. As one of the young men handed me my name tag he said something I didn't understand. I gave him a quizzical look. With that he asked, "You're not Japanese?"<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;">I shook my head and said, "No."<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">"I'm sorry. The consulate is on the 17th floor," he said.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">"I'm Japanese," Jun said. And they talked a bit in Japanese.</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />We took the elevator to the consulate. At the door of the consulate there is a security guard. We opened our purses for inspection. I have to leave my bottled water at the hallway, as it's not allowed. We got in; got out in about half an hour. Her business there was done pretty quick, as she had all her papers ready.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">We then headed to the bus stop. Took the same bus; got off; took another bus heading towards <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Tokyo,_Los_Angeles,_California">Little Tokyo</a> where we were to have lunch...and a little grocery shopping. We were short of time, but I managed to shoot a few photos.</span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3706-1Modified2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 279px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3706-1Modified2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:85%;" >The Walt Disney Concert Hall</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:85%;" >click image to enlarge</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">We boarded a bus across the Disney Hall.</span><span>..</span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3698-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 440px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3698-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">...and got off a few yards from this </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-weight: normal;">tower</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">. </span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" >This tower marks where the Japanese village is. Going around in that place is like going inside a tiny village. It has walkways and trees and shops. We found a small restaurant and went in. We were not looking for a fancy restaurant, as we were famished. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3700-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 279px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3700-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">I had a combo of teriyaki pork, green salad, fried potato salad, rice and...ham with scrambled eggs. The ham was too salty -- as is always with processed food. I wonder why the plate had ham and eggs. Usually it's for breakfast, but it's in their lunch menu.</span> <span style="font-weight: normal;">jun had the same combo, but instead of teriyaki she had fried breaded shrimp. The food was good for two hungry people. </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />After our lunch we headed to </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" >Marukai</span><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" > -- a Japanese market. Marukai is in a wing of a 3-story building. Beside the building is a small plaza.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3703-1Modified2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 439px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3703-1Modified2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" >And in it is a replica of the space Orbiter Challenger... </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3704-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 241px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3704-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">...and a bust of the first Japanese-American astronaut--<a href="http://www.jsc.nasa.gov/Bios/htmlbios/onizuka.html"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Ellison Onizuka</span></a>. Astronaut Onizuka was one of the crew who perished when the <a href="http://science.ksc.nasa.gov/shuttle/resources/orbiters/challenger.html"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Challenger</span></a> exploded right after it took off.</span> </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />We got inside the market and Jun grabbed the things she needed. I was checking the time. If we don't get the 3:45 train, we'll have to wait for the 6 PM one and that would be too late for us. There is one at 4:30, but it won't get to our station where we parked our cars.<br /></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Jun got most of her grocery and we got out of there in half an hour. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">We got to the train station just in time, and boarded right away. We stayed at the lower deck as she had a bulky rolling cart that was full of groceries. The train was packed with passengers heading home.<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A few minutes before the train got to our station, a couple of sheriffs entered our car and asked each passenger to show their tickets. We showed them ours. I wonder if </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">there ever are passengers who never buy their tickets. i hardly see anyone, a conductor perhaps, check passengers' tickets.<br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">We pulled in at our home station in 60 minutes; and home sweet home in 5 minutes. I slept tight that night, and woke up as usual...late. </span><br /></span><br /></span></h3>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-32047091117252800582009-08-19T23:53:00.000-07:002009-08-19T23:53:00.260-07:00addiction<span style="font-size:130%;">i have spent more time blogging and surfing the internet than anything else. the summer class is over and i have completed one measly painting--<a href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/2009/08/pink-geranium.html"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">pink geranium</span></a>. and this painting doesn't even look any good. could i make myself better? yes, if i do more; paint more. as of now, however, i have this unshakable addiction to the internet. my day is not complete if i don't log on. i am unable to use my left hand as i have injured my finger, still</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> i am undeterred typing with one hand. <br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">:-p</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com9