I am sending HAPPY THANKS-HA-GI-NUKAH-VING e-cards. Get it? This year Thanksgiving and Hanukah fall on the same day. Unfortunately, they are both overlooked because of the beginning Christmas craze. Don't take me wrong, I love Christmas, but I think, especially this year, the merchants of every kind are desperate to make their point with us: "BUY, BUY, BUY!!!" - and a lot of money from us. It's OK, they are - us - the business owners who try to survive in the terrible economy. It is up to us, therefore, to keep our cool and a correct perspective on things.
Today we are invited to the friends' house. I made a double amount of the Charlotte - an apple "pake". What is a "pake", you ask me? Sorry, today I am allowed some Jewish accent!
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| I made this! |
A "pake" is a mix of two things, just like THANKS-HA-GI-NUKAH-VING is. It's a pie and a cake with apples in it. Without actually letting you try some (and, believe me, I would like to do it) it's hard to explain. The texture is lighter and a tiny bit firmer than a cake, because there is so little batter that goes on top of the apples. The guests of honor, apples themselves, are plump and not as soft as in a pie. I also add cranberries to make it more interesting. Sometimes, if I don't have enough apples, I put a sliced banana in. It makes my "pake" a tad sweeter. I should add that a term "pake" comes from a TV program called: Drop Dead Diva.
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| Wakie-wakie! |
Taka is watching a series of lecture, I presume, for his job. Time to time a combination of his tiredness and the lecturers' heave Indian or Russian accents wins over Taka's determination to keep on top of the new information, and he doses off.
Last night was the Wednesday night, and I was supposed to go to an Al Anon meeting. Mr. P. had a very hard week due to the ugly politics at the previous meeting, as he told us, and decided to start a new meeting to get away from the back-biters. So, Doris and I drove to a cafe that was going to be a place to meet for the first night, only to find it closed because of the coming Thanksgiving. We got in touch with Mr. P., picked him up and went to a Burger King nearby, instead. It was completely empty, except for the staff, and we felt free to speak about our lives and feelings.
It was a curious meeting. Doris usually has no problem talking one on one about most of the things, but in public she can't open her mouth. Last night she really broke through! I, on the other hand, who am able to talk freely in private or in public, had this painful rock in my chest all the while that I shared, like there was something inside that wanted to come out but couldn't. That's it, I have an emotional constipation!
After we concluded the meeting, we got some small burgers, fries and drinks and kept on talking and laughing. Mr. P. recently gave his talk at the Community of Faith breakfast at my church. Many members asked to see him professionally. That is a very good news. Perhaps, people are looking not only to better their lives, but also to face their feelings about our movement.
So, except for a tiny moment when I upset Mr. P. by my suggestion that Bible is open to interpretation, we had a good time. Doris and I went home, but spent another hour or so talking in the car. Sonny called me and asked: "Mom, are you coming home? It's 12 o'clock!" Opps! Time flies!
Some people on Facebook were talking about Obama deciding to close the Vatican consulate. I don't know all the details, but it seems that with some common sense to guide us, we should be able to iron out technical difficulties, unless, of course, they are not technical difficulties but difficulties of the heart.
It's in the heart where resentment and pain create a nest for hatred. We, humans, are a funny species. On the one hand, we want and seek love and togetherness most of all in our lives. On the other hand, we allow the most artificial and silly things prevent us from finding that love and togetherness. What could be a reason for the United States and Vatican to dislike each other? Is it a reason big enough to put in danger the spiritual lives of the Catholics, when they begin to harbor resentment because the U.S. is, allegedly, persecuting Vatican? I had an elderly teacher once who liked to repeat: "Complaint and dissatisfaction are poison for your spirit self". No matter how just our rationale is to hate someone or for grumbling, those things first hurt us and then - others.
Today I tried to find a picture to give me focus while I was praying. I lately began to do it to stop my mind from wondering. The one that attracted my attention was: "Keep calm and call on Jesus." We respect calm and centered people, don't we? We desire ourselves to be cool in the most dire of the circumstances. The hotheadedness brings nothing but grief. "Keep calm and call on Jesus."
Some of you might not believe in Jesus. I hope that I didn't scare you away. The common sense is so hard to come by and to follow. We are all human beings. If we believe in anything bigger than ourselves, even in serving and upholding our families and communities, we need to have that in mind before we make rash decisions and go to war with each other. And if we believe in a loving and merciful God, isn't it a reason to show with our own behavior to our brothers and sisters of the Earth examples of His benevolence?
Keep calm and believe. Keep calm and smile. Keep calm and love.
I drove carefully maintaining speed so that I wouldn't lose track of Dr. Park's little Nissan or let anyone get in between it and the big Crown Victoria that I was driving. Both cars belong to Dr. Park, but he sold the Nissan to his brother-in-law in San Jose, a town in the middle of the Silicon Valley, about one hour away from us. We were now transporting the sold vehicle to that person.
Since I wrote that post about changing my attitude towards Dr. Park, I noticed that my tension with him in the room decreased. I think, even thinking about it helped me to start forgiving him for the bullying and humiliation that he imposed on me. He seems genuinely sorry and determined to be only helpful from now on. Perhaps I don't trust him yet, and he might betray me at a drop of the hat, but for now I feel that it's time to bury the hatchet (and, preferably, not in each other's heads). Sylvie, who detests Dr. Park and either runs away or watches him intently with her seriously spooky green eyes whenever he is near her, seems to have felt the easing of tension in me. Today she didn't do any of that behavior when he tried to initiate a give-and-take with her, but first mewed at him and then came and sniffed his offered hand. She is very intuitive that way!
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| My demon-kitty |
I was dreading going to San Jose following Dr. Park. It's not an easy drive, the freeway gets really congested, and one has to do a lot of merging and lane changing. Fortunately, we were able to reach our destination, a brother-in-law's apartment building, in good time and intact.
Mr. Kim is from North Korea. He and his wife came to the U.S. at Dr. Park's invitation in nineteen seventies. He doesn't speak much English, but Dr. Park translated for him or just talked instead of him. He said that the elderly in South Korea can' t enjoy life as they do here. All they get is $100 a month. I tried to find out how much would be their expenses, for example, the rent, but he only told me that people there have to buy their place of residence. If I understood him wrong, you are welcome to correct me!
In thanks for bringing his new/old car to him, Mr. Kim took us for lunch to a Korean Bar-B-Que Buffet. Imagine a place where you can get as much tasty,
soft meat and other
dishes as you want! I love it! Too bad that I have only a finite amount of space in my stomach and can't usually eat more than one plate of food. Today Mr. Kim would nod stand for Roberta and I refusing politely to stuff ourselves any further. He went and brought us plates of desert, soft-serve ice cream cones and fruit to share at the table. I guess, it's a Korean custom to finish everything that's put in front of you, because that's what we were forced to do. Dr. Park wrapped the remaining sesame covered balls and steamed buns in a napkin and stuck it into Roberta's purse.
