Having a little faith...

I always seem to get involved in one investment or another with the idea that "this will become a real gold mine!". Then it turns into a nightmare. Then, with a little work and, well, hard work, it starts to take off. When Tom and I first started to look into buying some real estate down here on the Gulf Coast, I'm not sure we really had much of an idea as to what we wanted. For sure we wanted it to produce a little income and grow in value, but I didn't really give much thought to whether it should be short term or long term rental. So now we have these great little spots at the beach, that even though they are very humble, they have the potential to be cute and cozy. Both need to have the bathrooms totally gutted and updated, but for the $60 a night that they are currently listed for, they will do for now. For some reason, even though the units are identical, I like one more than the other. And the one that is my favorite is the one with all of the problems that have been keeping us pouring more and more money into it, with no return and no relief on the horizon. How is that possible? It must be like having two dogs, both cute and sweet and loving, one, for one reason or another, becomes your favorite and that is the one that poops on the floor, chews up expensive shoes and tears the place up while you're gone. Yet you can't help but find some redeeming quality that keeps you in love, that keeps you continually cleaning up the messes and trying to overcome that blasted thought to cut and run. I believe it is a matter of....wait for it.... having a little faith. I still have faith that one day these little money suckers will pay off. I still believe that my offspring will benefit from our investment and find joy in having a spot near the beach. I cling to the hope that my loved ones currently residing in the Great North West will one day come to the Deep South for a visit and want to hang out and swim in the surf, walk the beach at sunset, eat crappy fried food while watching the waves and stay until they are exhausted from all of the fun and relaxation. I pray that these potential little gems will one day generate enough money to send airfare to my family of six so they can come to see how I live and maybe get an understanding of why it would be so hard for me to live where it gets freezing cold and winter bites to the bone. My brother, Kay, and his two sons recently came for a visit; more of a whirlwind tour than anything since they never seemed to get off the road long enough to really experience this place. Kay commented that we live in a resort...yes, we live in a resort. It's a great way to spend these years when the aches and pains of just getting out of bed, from years of hard work and daily abuse are taking their toll on this old body. The air is warm and moist and friendly. The temperatures are warm and soothing. When it gets too warm, too hot, to get out and about, we have the luxury of air conditioning that, even when set to 80 degrees cools me down enough to want a sweater. I love my little Miata convertible with its sporty looks and quick agility. I love that my little great-granddaughter wants to ride with the top down. I love it that every need I have can be fulfilled within a few minutes drive....every need that is except the need to be with my family. I have faith, that one day, before I die, I will be able to walk out my door and get a hug from my grandchildren, spend some time cooking with them, talking stories and relating the oral history of this crazy family. Oh oh, I need to quit this tack...my eyes are blurring with tears of want and yearning for what I don't have. I need to focus on all that I do have. Thankfully, with a little faith, God provides all that I need.

Food, always food.....

Ahh, what wonderful peace (and quiet). Izzy is asleep in Tom's lap; they're both laid out on the big old recliner exhausted from a morning of play. Izzy and I spent a few hours this morning at the pool while Tom played golf. A tough life, this...living at the resort. Last night Tom and I went over to City Grill for dinner. It's a little joint, frequented by 'locals', tucked into an obscure little strip mall on a secondary road. We had been to the Chinese joint, next door, a few nights earlier and having been pleasantly surprised, decided to try City Grill too. I had heard about their delicious sweet potato fries with bacon and bleu cheese, which I tried and found tasty. Unfortunately the scallop cakes I ordered were a total disappointment and Tom's Cobb Salad didn't pull his trigger either. I had toyed with the idea of ordering the rib-eye steak sandwich and wish I had gone with that. I wanted to love the place, I loved the decor, which was not fussy or 'beachy'; I've always liked the look of black table cloths and napkins with candles and we were greeted by live jazz. Tom doesn't want to go back, but I think I can talk him into at least trying lunch for a steak sandwich some time. Maybe it's just a matter of ordering the right thing. The menu read like the chef has some imagination. It just wasn't executed to my liking. Tom said he can get better at home...like that's a fair way to judge a place. Not bragging or anything, but it is tough to find a place that serves food as good as I can prepare at home. When we find one, you can be sure we will frequent it as often as our budget will allow. I'm not much into cooking for just the two of us, and we seldom eat at the table. When we do, unless I solicit a comment, nothing is said and since Tom eats so much faster than I do, he jumps up after cleaning his plate and starts cleaning up the kitchen (this is NOT the part I'm complaining about) while I'm left sitting at the table eating alone. Why bother? I say. I'm just as happy with a bowl of cold cereal or a yogurt and I've gotten bold enough to not worry about whether or not Tom is hungry, figuring he's a big boy and can certainly decide for himself if he wants something to eat, and fix it too. This is not to say that I never cook. When he came back from Alaska with 50 pounds of salmon filets and 25 pounds of halibut, our freezer was filled to capacity. I enjoy working with such wonderful ingredients and we've had "fresh" fish several times...but come on! How often can you eat salmon in a week? Right now veggies are beautiful in the market and just a few nights ago I turned 4 gorgeous avocados into guacamole and made a nice bowl of pico de gallo to go with it. Izzy was helping me and she decided we needed to add black olives to the pico. I think she was really on to something there. They really added a nice dimension. I'd never realized how compatible olives are with fresh cilantro and lime. Well, once again I've managed to fill another empty space with my rambling. I'm feeling the need to go do something. I think the little stirrings that I just heard from Izzy has triggered some kind of 'mom gene' in me and now I can't sit still. Writing about cooking also gets my kitchen calling out to me to get in there and create something, anything. Of course sweets always float to the surface and usually become the leader when it comes to fixing something while Izzy's in the house. What could be better than waking to the aroma of something yummy baking? See ya.....

Insomnia

There seems to be an ongoing need for my mind to keep my body awake long after my body would rather be asleep. I know people have a tendency to suffer from insomnia as they age, and believe me, I have aged. Nonetheless, it seems unfair to suffer this ailment, if indeed it is an ailment. It certainly feels like an ailment, I usually feel pretty wiped out in the morning and have trouble getting started on the simplest of tasks. Often it is accompanied by headaches and generally feeling crappy. While I'm awake, however, I feel like I should be doing something constructive, working on a project, writing, painting, cleaning, doing laundry....something, anything but sleeping. To be honest, most of my insomnia is brought on by an innermost feeling of guilt, tortured soul of mine filled with regrets, fear of having done wrong in some aspect of my life, knowledge that I absolutely did do something wrong in my life, a wish that I had been better equipped to live my life better. I really don't want to purge myself here. It is too public, even if no one ever reads this bumbling rambling nonsense, I could never reveal my real self here. I have great difficulty revealing my real self to people I love and trust. Hmmm, trust, now that is something very rare for me. Only one person comes to mind when I think of who I truly trust with my innermost self. My oldest and closest friend, whom I consider to be my sister, is actually the only one that I can think of that I really trust with my secrets. My real sister, the one I grew up with, who shared a bedroom with me, I really don't trust. Not really. Certainly she knows a lot about me and has shared almost every aspect of my life over the decades, but I have too often felt an undercurrent of her dishonesty towards me. Ooops! I've already said too much. This is how my tricky brain works...I run off into tangents of thoughts and memories, uncontrolled, and it gets me into trouble. I focus on some long past 'wrong' I have felt either done towards me or that I've done. I am a firm Christian and know Christ as my savior and my forgiver of all transgressions, but, even though it is my duty to forgive, I find it enormously difficult. It takes me years to forgive others, after much hard work and prayer. I mean to completely and thoroughly forgive. I am quicker to accept fault in others than I am in myself and even though I REALLY try, I can't seem to forgive myself, hence the breeding ground for my insomnia is kept fertile and well plowed, as I seem capable of digging up every detail of any shortcomings I recognize in myself, turning them over and pulling them to the surface for examination and scrutiny. Then, instead of weeding these thoughts and memories out of my heart and mind, I carefully replant them and feed them, either with self loathing or some twisted need to "never forget so as to never repeat". My best medication seems to be the television, where I can mindlessly engross myself in a program that fills in the voids of my brain, or numbs those electrical impulses that keep digging up the crap that I try to keep buried. In any case, I think this will be my best prescription for tonight's malaise. With that, I will quit my rambling and turn on the boob-tube and drift off, hopefully to sleep. Even if only for an hour....

Emma Faith

Yesterday my beautiful daughter(in-law) sent an email to me with an attachment. I am still reeling from its impact. That unobtrusive little click still echos in my brain. If you're wondering what the heck could make such an impression on an old woman, I can only say....too bad for you, that I can not make this wonderful moment available to you. My amazing granddaughter, Emma, recorded a song at her greatUncle Jim's studio. The only background is a lilting riff played on piano by a family friend. At first I was sure that Noel had inadvertantly sent the wrong attachment because the recording is so amazing, clear, professional and heart-stopping. Emma's voice is like a tall glass of lemonade, full of crystal clear cubes of ice, as droplets of water slide down the sides of the glass with the sun shining through the refreshing tartness of the contents, sitting on a table filled with vases of flowers and lovely edible treats where your favorite person waits for you to join them....all of that and more! She possesses an ethereal quality in her voice that resonates of angels, every now and then a sweetness, grounded in reality, that sweeps you away into the lyrics and brings tears to the eyes and a lump in the throat to imagine that this is the voice of someone you know...someone in your very own gene-pool! This girl is only just beginning to dip her toe into adulthood. I have no doubt of her parent's ability to protect her from harm while encouraging her to expand and experience all that life has to offer her as she zooms ahead of 'the crowd' and follows her star. She is a star. She shines as brightly as any sparkling light that God ever created. I can't wait to see what comes next for her. It's just a little bit sad that I am so surprised by her talent. It is a statement of my absence in her life, that I didn't know this greatness in her. I have always known she is beautiful, loving, kind, sweet, artistic, independent, intelligent....the list is endless. But to not know she possessed such a singing talent is heartbreaking. Was heartbreaking....I am no longer oblivious to her "hidden" ablility. Several years ago, during a family reunion at my brother's ranch in San Gregorio, California, she sang with her cousin for a 'talent show' the kids produced for all to enjoy. They stood aloft, on a platform near the ceiling of the barn, singing some popular tune they both knew. Their voices blended beautifully and giggles spiked their performance. I couldn't tell which voice belonged to which girl. We enjoyed it, I remember thinking they had really good voices, but the realization of their talent never really hit me. Part of the reason, I'm sure, were the distractions of the other kids, being with the family all together again after many years of distance and busy lives that had kept from oneanother's company, the novelty of having the kids band together to put on such a performance...many reasons. But when I look back now, I can recall how surprised I was by their ability to sing a'capella and stay on key. Even when Noel told me that Emma had been chosen to sing at her classes graduation from Junior High School to High School, I think I kind of dismissed it as her having the kind of talent that merely exceeds that of her classmates, maybe also an element of her willingness to perform. BOY WAS I WRONG ABOUT THAT!!! I suppose by now you've grown quite weary of my crowing about my granddaughter. Just as any of us, soon enough, grow weary of another's endless stack of photographs and bragging about grandkids, I'm sure you've heard just about enough. Keep in mind, however, that someday, probably soon, if you're really lucky, you will be hearing this gem on the radio or be seeing her on television, or on stage. Emma Faith Scofield....a star is in the wings!

Rambling on and on about nothing...

Just spent a few minutes re-reading my blog comments from you readers (NOEL!) and it refreshes my soul to know you love me. I'm still slogging through the ceiling problems with our little beach condo #305. I am astounded at how long people can drag something so simple out over time. The insurance company doesn't know what the adjuster report says, the adjuster has gone on vacation without having contacted the insurance company (or me), the board of directors on the HOA condo board consists of two guys that have been doing it for years on end...and I can't seem to get anything I've requested from them, like a current financial report, when the meetings are, who is currently listed on the membership rolls, why they haven't complied with the bylaws regarding maintenance of the property, etc, etc. I guess I should just fix the damn ceiling and hire a lawyer! Whew!, that was cleansing... Sometimes its hard to not get caught up in a spiral of distress and anger over things I have no control over. The famous words (from 'Scarlet O'Hara' after surveying the damage to her estate) "Fiddley Dee, tomorrow's another day..." or something like that, are echoing in my mind. It has been many years since I've seen the film, so long in fact I am wracking my brain trying to remember the title. Oh well, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about and I am also quite sure you will comment on this lame blog to remind me. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." Actually I do, but that line also sprang to mind and I can sure see the smirk on old Bret's face as he delivered it. I suppose I'll have to go to Netflix and try to find it so I can watch it again. I'm sure if I ask Tom he'll know what I'm trying to remember. I feel as though if I just keep rambling on enough it will break through the fog of my addled brain and I will be able to recall it all on my own. . . . . Nope, all that is coming to mind is "Wuthering Heights", that's not it! I guess I'd better drop it. This is such a perfect example of what happens to my brain at such inopportune times, a forgotten name, place....wait, what was I just saying? Must be early onset dementia. Sometimes I wonder if I'll get to see my beautiful granddaughters reach full adulthood, if I'll get to see my great-granddaughter celebrate her twentieth birthday. I wonder if I'll ever be able to see my grandsons graduate from college or even high school. All of these dreams of the future are really only twenty years away, or less. That will make me 83? Or so. My own grandmother on my dad's side lived to be 87. Clara, she might have even lived longer had she not tripped over the dog that was lying on the step. She fell nearly a full flight, tumbling to the bottom and ending with a broken hip. Pneumonia developed during her hospitalization and eventually was her end. She was still living independantly above the garage at my Auntie Getha's. That old dog, Pal, was the culprit, sound asleep (probably due to her being deaf) in the stairwell, near the top step. That was on the Bell side of the family. On the Bernal side, nearly all of my ancestors were already dead before I was even born. Those guy lived fast and furiously, to hear my dad tell. During my teen years, if I slept in he would wake me with a loud "Dancey dancey, get up. You're like a Bernal, play all night and sleep all day". I don't even remember ever "playing all night" until long after I had moved out of my parent's home. There were a few years where I'm sure, if indeed the Bernals were great partiers, my Spanish forefathers were quite proud of my behavior. But that is another blog altogether. I guess I'm done.

I've just been poking around in my blogger account and found all of the comments my readers have made over the years. Huh, I never knew. Thank you all for your interest. I hope I haven't disappointed you too greatly for my months of silence. We were back at the beach condos today getting #306 ready for a guest expected on the 26th. Still no work being done on poor little #305! We're waiting to hear from the insurance guy. Things seem to move so slowly when I'm trying to get something done around here. I'm beginning to think all of these condominium complexes are run by a bunch of crooks. We have had two experiences buying condos down here and both times we've run in to these big jerks that are kind of self appointed KINGs of the HOA and they pretty much do whatever they want. Whenever someone questions them, they shout and tell you to do away. Since I am retired, I have nothing better to do than just keep shaking their cages and watching them stomp and holler before giving it another shake. It's my entertainment these days. Not that anything is being accomplished by it all....I am still frustrated by the lack of forward motion in getting improvements and needed changes. BUT, they are painting the building and stairwell which are a couple of things on the top of my list. Tonight I fixed a beautiful piece of halibut that Tom brought home from his trip to Alaska. Pretty simple actually, I sprinkled the filets with a season mixture I had made while Eileen was here, (fresh lime zest, finely chopped fresh cilantro, Hawaiian salt, chili powder and garlic powder) and patted the fish with sliced almonds then plopped it down into the electric skillet that I had melted butter and a drizzle of olive oil in. Lid on, 4 to 5 minutes per side...only 9 minutes total, onto warm plates and a spoonful of rice-a-roni (the San Francisco treat!) on the side and dinner was ready! So incredible! The meat of the fish was wonderfully white and firm and perfectly cooked. I ate all of mine...and yes, Tom ate all of his. I've been scoping out the roadsides while I drive around hoping to find a nice unattended banana palm to steal a leaf from. I've been wanting to bake some of the halibut wrapped in banana leaves, maybe season with a little soy sauce, ginger and brown sugar teriyaki style and have it with some nice steamed rice and sweet coleslaw with apple and carrot. Sheesh, I'm still full from dinner yet sitting here salivating at the thought of more of that gorgeous North Pacific treasure. Spoiled little piggy...that's me! OK...enough rambling. I will try to be more dedicated to writing, even if it has no real meaning to the rest of the world. Email me if you read this, please. I'm curious to know if I've lost the few who once read my babblings.

I have never been one to use earphones/headphones but having recently come across a set that were included with my old laptop, I decided to leave them in an accessible place and today actually plugged them in and now I am typing to the lilting harmonies of beautiful Hawaiian music, courtesy of Pandora Radio. What a wonderful world! I've been swept away to those soft sands, shaded by palms and gently lapped by aquamarine clear waters. Memories of canoe races and healthy tanned bodies that we once all lived in, never once dreaming we too would be aged and stiff. Ah, Kailua beach! Auntie Margret and Uncle Don, their lovely home on Wanaao Rd. where Pua and Ronnie now live. Ardie, now dead from cancer (long time) taught me how to make a haku lei which I wore on a white Panama hat for decades. Nane'a now cooking for real, talented and capable. Kaipo, who I still hold in high esteem for her breathtakingly beautiful hula, now works for the Hawaiian people helping them to re-establish their lands that the haoles greedily took during their years of occupation. And the gift of the Hawaiian plate lunch...teriyaki, white rice and macaroni salad...so ONO! Mahalo for your influence on my family with the concept of ohana and aloha. All the world could take a great lesson from the Hawaiian spirit, where men are fearless warriors, women are graceful and sexy and the keikis (kids) run free and happy. Yes, there are much deeper aspects of their culture, but every individual seems to also be blessed with these fine features, inner happiness, confidence, love and appreciation of family and honor for the aged. I am happy to think that when Roxie and Kay lived in Hawaii so many decades ago with Kay Jr. and Roxannie down the road from Don and Margret with Kaipo, Michael, Pua and Terry they had some idea of how these two families would be forever intertwined. Jim, myself and Eric were yet to born during those years, although Roxie and Margret were pregnant with we two Virgos, born within five days of oneanother. Even today, when generations later (Baili, Ben and Kaylanne) spent time in those sacred islands, their influence is deeper than just the call of the water, sun and scents that permiate the air. These young also feel their connection, deep within them, that longs for the island lifestyle. Those four friends, Kay and Don, Roxie and Margret, really started something......I wonder if they had any idea.