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Last week was very trying. I have been trying to keep up with my exercise program at the fitness center, but my right shoulder blade has indicated that it needs some rest. I have been trying to allow the dentists and endodontists fix my cavities. Monday was an hour-long dental appointment; Wednesday was one root canal that took almost two hours; and Friday the second root canal kept me in the endodontist’s chair for two and a half hours.
I know I’m being a whiner, but I have a very low tolerance for pain. So I have been taking extra amounts of ibuprofen that I already take for my arthritis.
Since the above-mentioned root canals involved both sides of my mouth, I have been instructed to be very careful with food because the crowns are temporary and could fall out if I chew on something hard. I will avoid hard candy, steaks, etc. I was also instructed to avoid sticky food, such as gummy bears or caramel. I never liked the gummy things anyway, but the caramel I like with a fresh apple or with chocolate.
I went to Albertson’s and bought four medium yams. I figured that cooked yams satisfy my sweet tooth, and yams are good for one’s health—antioxidants and all that. I found several recipes on the web, but decided to follow some of the instructions from one recipe and combine them with those of another recipe.
One recipe calls for the yams to be boiled for about ten minutes, but I boiled them for fifteen. One recipe instructs to cut a horizontal slit in each yam and put one pat of butter. I decided to cut them in rounds about ¾ inches wide, remove the skin, and to be generous with the butter. Then these rounds are baked in a slow oven until yams are tender. After the yams are out of the oven, I can either pour honey, molasses, syrup, brown sugar, or anything else. Yum yams!
It was while I was cutting the rounds that I heard Mama Tina’s voice, in her joking tone: Padre, cara de camote morado—(short pause for best effect)—comer in ayunas, no sera pecado? The joke is that she is in the confessional and she seems to be telling the priest he has a face as ugly as a dark purple yam. But, after the pause, the descriptive phrase becomes the subject of an innocent question about what is a sin. Funny for me is that I remember such an inoffensive, clean one-liner of a joke repeated many times by Mama Tina. She would really have liked the camotes I prepared tonight. She had an even sweeter tooth than I. And many of her jokes were not so innocent.
This last Father’s Day was special in several ways. For hubby it was the first Father’s Day since becoming a grandfather! Adding to that, our grandson was with us, so I decided to have a very informal Open House. The purpose of such an event was to have other California family members meet him.
I improvised a menu with entries that were easy to prepare, but at the same time a bit festive. How else can we justify having deviled eggs and watermelon included on the bill of fare? Back when Dad had the fruit stand, I particularly thought of watermelons being special and festive.
I remember Dad going to the produce market in San Antonio once or twice a week. Back then the melons sold for one to three cents a pound. I recall Dad stating that the melons grown in Luling were the best. After the loaded truck arrived at the fruit stand, there was the task of unloading them. There is no way of doing that except one melon at a time. Picture the bucket brigade in some little towns of yore struggling to put out a fire. That was the way it was done from the truck to the cold storage (which melons sold for a half cent to one cent higher than the others). After that came the unloading to the outdoor display. That was a beautiful display, and Daddy always made the signs with the price. The outdoor display could be fenced in, but for some seasonal displays the fence came down during the day and went back up at night.
My young brother loved playing around the watermelons when he was a small boy. I liked watching people who came to buy the watermelon. Some would inspect the stem part of the melon; others would listen to the sound as they rapped on the melon like they were knocking at the door. Still others would ask Mom or Dad to see the inside of the melon to taste and view its color. This was done without opening the melon. A square roughly 2 inches by 2 inches was cut at such angles that when it was pulled out it had the shape of a pyramid. After inspection by the customer—and I don’t remember a watermelon ever being rejected—the pyramid which now lacked the top was plugged back into the melon.
During the watermelon season, which seemed to last the whole summer, Mom always found a way to get a watermelon to her mother, Mama Yaya. Usually she succeeded in sending her a melon three or four times during the season. Mama Yaya loved watermelons, and I am told that she could and would make a watermelon a complete meal. Mama Yaya had no teeth. I don’t know when she lost her teeth, but I don’t recall ever seeing her with any dentures or her own teeth. Watermelon may have been one of her favorite foods because it was easier for her to eat than other food. At any rate, in her view, watermelons were a treat and she considered them festive food, too.
Our family Sunday traditions, I recall, was for Mom, my sister and I to attend Mass at St Anthony’s Catholic Church. Dad stayed at the fruit stand working. After Mass, the three of us would walk to visit Mama Yaya. On the way from church to Mama Yaya’s we stopped at a neighborhood tiendita. There we purchased pan dulce, milk, or other things to take to my grandmother. When our visit was coming to an end, Mom would announce our departure. But Mama Yaya not wanting to have our visit come to an end would humorously announce, “Al rato vamos a partir una sandía.” To me it meant: don’t leave now. The festivities will start before long and in a while we are going to cut open a watermelon.
Mama Yaya, you were in my thoughts this Father’s Day. I wish my grandson and you could have met. Even though you were not physically at our Open House, I know your spirit was here enjoying our gathering and the sandía.
It hit at 11:42 am. I know because the grandfather clock stopped. For us, it started to rumble, similar to a low-flying jet over the house, but then it started quaking. It was hard enough that it was difficult to walk across the room. I made it to a door jamb, and hubby made it to another door jamb, too. The shaking lasted a good 20 to 25 seconds. It was a scary feeling. The chandelier in the dining room was swinging hard. One of the picture frames was also moving. When the shaking stopped, we stepped outside and could see my plants on hanging pots still swaying. We have our cabinets attached to the wall, so none of those fell over, but some drawers and cabinet doors did open partially. One clock fell off in the guest room. One small picture fell off elsewhere, too. The hot water heater was strapped, so it was OK.
We were not able to get in touch with our son, immediately, but are certain he is fine. Hubby is picking him up from his work now. Daughter called already, and we reassured her all of us are OK.
We know we live in earthquake country and this is not the first earthquake we have experienced. The Sylmar earthquake was my first experience, and both my children were babies. When it happened both of them were still asleep. I do remember that my daughter raised her head, but went back to sleep after the jolt shook her crib.
We remember the quake in San Francisco and the images of the freeway levels pancaking. The Northridge quake was probably the last 'major' earthquake that we felt. Images of bricks on the sidewalks and freeway bridges sheared off are what I recall, but none of those quakes affected the family. No loss in property, not even loss in power. We are very blessed.
We carried earthquake insurance for a long period, until it became very expensive. Then the insurance carrier at that time informed us that they would no longer offer that kind of insurance because they had very large claims after the Northridge quake. Now, because of some legislation, homeowners must be offered earthquake insurance, but it is still very costly. So, at this time we do not have that coverage.
We try to keep both our cars 'gassed up' at all times, but we currently do not have an emergency kit a the ready. I recall experiencing several hurricanes in south Texas, and they are certainly scarier and last longer. Most of us who have lived in Southern California for a long time know that this was only a moderate one. But the media will keep hyping it. Even so, we are grateful that we have been spared the 'big one' that we have been warned about.
Well, here I go. Entering the blog world. As my title indicates I will primarily bring in short family stories that come to mind. As the title also indicates this blog will be in Spanglish. Some phrases or words will have to be in Spanish because that was my childhood language.
My recollections may not be of any interests to any more people than my immediate family, but that's just fine. I especially hope that my grandson will appreciate these reminiscences when he gets older.
