Welp, we finally got out to do our “research” of Filipino dessert tastes: turon (fried banana in lumpia wrapper) and halo-halo, plus flan and ube ensaymada to go.
My kid being a particularly picky eater who isn’t terribly adventurous, she barely ate her halo-halo, and I resisted the urge to eat hers after I finished mine. At least she drank a good portion of her calamansi juice.
My kid persuaded her group in baking class to have a Philippines theme for their entry in the upcoming class Cupcake Wars project. We’ll be doing some “research” at a couple of Filipino bakery/restaurants this week.
Somewhere, I hope my mom and sister are smiling down on her.
Spoiled a perfectly fine Sunday afternoon by watching my team blow a lead/game/series. Going to try redeeming the day by playing with art supplies.
Thank you, Threads algorithm, for this juxtaposition on my timeline.
My kid is a teenager and we still hide eggs in the yard for her to hunt. This year, she brought our leashed cat to help. Happy Easter to all who celebrate.
Not a fan of the Giants. #Caturday #MLB
Good to see this fediverse thing catching on over at Threads. Find me there if you feel like it at @garciabuxton@threads.net … I tend to be chattier there these days.
It’s the North American pretzel cat. Impressed she could ball herself up like that.
Heard Nirvana’s cover of “The Man Who Sold the World” while driving this afternoon. Hearing it again on the coffeehouse’s stereo just now. Somewhere, Kurt Cobain (or David Bowie) is trying to tell me something.
Oh, look. Mommy’s first beta-blockers.
I will be watching Ryan Gosling’s performance from the Oscars telecast on a constant loop tomorrow. That is all.
Nothing like the fast food of my people to cheer up the soul.
Listening to the New Heights podcast, and Jason Kelce tossed off a line about Yoko Ono. “You mean the speed skater?” Travis Kelce asked. He didn’t appear to be kidding.
I like the Kelce brothers. I’m going to figure it’s a generational thing and move on with my life.
I hate not having a pen I like when I need it.
I’m a gel pen girl, and I usually have such a pen on my person at all times. Except now, right this minute, at the coffee shop when I like to journal. Very annoyed with myself, and settling for gratuitous blog posting instead.
Still somehow coexisting.
(Repurposing some of what I posted to a grief support group on Facebook—some of which in turn is repurposed from a Threads post—because I have very little of anything left in me.)
It’s been a tough year of losses: one of our cats in April, my college mentor and close friend in June, and my sister last month. I feel like I haven’t fully grieved my mom in 2021, and a work friend and one of our dogs passed not long after.
I haven’t had a breakdown or anything—just a few scattered tears and overwhelming, heavy sadness. I still have to press ahead for work and family. Waiting with dread for some kind of collapse.
Meanwhile, it’s Christmas Eve. Just put together dinner: arroz caldo, a Filipino chicken and rice porridge, which Mom always made late on Christmas Eve so we could eat just before opening our gifts at midnight.
I’ve made it for my family for years. Sometimes I’d text my sister a picture to prove to her that I could make it. She’d text back with heart or thumbs-up emoji, sometimes typing “Wish I was there!”
Now neither she nor Mom are around to tell. Pressing ahead, but my heart feels empty.
My sister and I were close, and she would have been 67 at the end of November. This is tough.
But there will be Christmas. And arroz caldo. A blessed holiday to you.
You know you’re tired when reading the subtitles on an anime episode is exhausting.
For F’s baptismal birthday, I used to get her religious icons or books.
This year? I got her D&D dice that look like wedges of cheese.
Please don’t tell my parish priest.
This is Charlie (also known as Charles Edgar Cheeserton III, or Dipper). He appears to be a beagle/basset mix. Brought him home from the shelter yesterday.
This is as close to a 20th wedding anniversary gift as we’ve given ourselves this week. And Winter the Anxiety Dog has never been happier.
Little Edie Beale may be my newest patron saint.
“I think they’re highly underrated in terms of the zeitgeist,” Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails said in a phone interview. “Devo challenged the idea of what a rock band could be. It felt like rock was mutating. It made me realize, ‘Oh, there aren’t any rules. You know, you can do anything.’”
“It’s a good evening to experiment,” we said.
F said the resulting roasted Peep (left over from her Easter basket from months ago) looked like “it has yellow fever.” But she ate it and decided it met more than enough of her sugar quota for her to forgo a s’more.
It’s autumn in the Midwest.
“Don’t be more serious than God. God invented dog farts. God designed your body’s plumbing system. God designed an ostrich. If He didn’t do it, He permitted a drunken angel to do it. Empirical facts can add significantly to the meaning of ‘being godlike’." (Peter Kreeft [via Tsh Oxenreider])
How does one deal with raging impostor syndrome? I’ve got it on two fronts, and it’s seriously kicking my ass.
Book and strategy recommendations — and memes — welcome.