Simply Belle

“Mom, can you please make salsa”, my daughter asked. She loves to eat salsa with tortilla chips. I don’t always prepare it for her except when I have a long weekend. I happened to have one last week and so she and I went shopping yesterday and bought all the necessary ingredients. It is easy to make. All you need to do is cut up the ingredients into small pieces, add salt, lemon juice, orange juice (about 2 T), and a dash of tabasco (or more if you have a high hot-o-meter tolerance), and that is basically it. It is good to eat with tinapa, tuyo, and rice or with chips (mexie-style). It is a healthy dish, actually and so I don’t mind making the extra effort fixing it for my children.

My ingredients for Salsa: tomatoes, onions (not shown), avocados, cilantro, lemons, tabasco (not shown), salt, and orange juice (not shown)
As always, I use veggie and fruit wash for washing vegetables and fruits to get rid of wax and pesticide residue.

Yummy salsa.

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The breathtaking Puraran beach.

I have mentioned about my beach house in my previous entry and I am pushing it at the top of the page so people will know. Yes, it is up for sale. The house is located in the island of Catanduanes, in the town of Baras, in the barrio of Puraran. The house is just a short walk to the ocean shown above.

Puraran is a surfer’s paradise. It has powerful waves that break into corals 100 to 200 meters from the beach. Surfers and tourists from all over the world come to this place to take advantage of the majestics waves that people rave about or just to relax and enjoy the beautiful scenery. You practically have possession of the beach all to yourself. It is a perfect place for photography. The beach is nestled by the mountains on the east side. Over on the right side of the beach is an awesome place that resembles the scenes from the “Sounds of Music.” When I visited the place, for a moment, I thought I was in Austria…breathtaking view! Surprisingly, a white tall guy with a German accent appeared out of nowhere, not too far from the grass where we were seated. He actually owns a house in this area…lucky him! How did he ever find this place? I found out that he has been touring Catanduanes for some time now and he felt in love with the place.

Two resorts here offer basic accomodation for reasonable cost. For Ph300, you can have a room and two meals. The meal is mainly composed of rice, fresh fish, veggies, and a bottle of water.

This house is still going through finishing stage. When it is done, it is going to be up for sale for Ph4, 000,000, which includes furnitures and appliances. The house should be finished by March or earlier. Personal items are not included. So, if you are a retired surfer and would want to live frugally in a state of the art house, this is a perfect place for you. A place where you can get the most out of your retirement money and still able to live like king and queen. You get the catch-of-day right at your doorstep most morning from the local fishermen, and lobster, in season, at reasonable prices. If you are interested, email me at liwayway07@yahoo.com.
Beach house photo taken at 90% completion
Master bathroom
Stairwell is made out of handmade narra wood.
Close up of the kitchen with hubby (didn’t give my hubby a chance to suck his tummy in)
Dining room from a different angle
Kitchen and dining room

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We had baked wild king salmon for dinner last night given by my friend, Elaine. She gave us three meals worth. Thank you dear friend! For two years in a row now, they have been going to Alaska for salmon fishing for a whopping cost of $5,000 per person plus tips of $200. Imagine that? She and her husband enjoy fishing immensely that is why they don’t mind paying such a large price.

I usually use salt, pepper, cut-up basil, and lemon juice to flavor the salmon to preserve its delicate taste. However, last night I didn’t have lemons. I didn’t want to make a trip to the grocery store that late either. I asked myself, “what can I use instead of lemon?” I gazed at my pantry for a while. Suddenly, I saw a bottle of unopened Zesty Italian dressing, my saving grace. I immediately grabbed it and drizzled about 2 tablespoons on the whole salmon, plus the salt, pepper, and basil flakes. I added some slices of onions and tomatoes and tossed in three average-size potatoes good for three people…my husband, A, and me. I baked it at 375 degrees, 20 minutes long. I had to keep close watch of it as I didn’t want to cook it one minute longer. You don’t want to overcook salmon. After 20 minutes had elapsed, I took the tray out of the oven to see if the salmon was cooked. Nope, it wasn’t quite done yet. I shoved it right back in the oven for no more than 3 minutes.

Boy, the salmon tasted so heavenly with baked potato, and fresh green salad on the side. It was cooked just perfect!

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I was reading on tips on blogging and one known blogger suggested that a writer must show and not tell to make writing interesting. Hmmm, this is something that doesn’t happen overnight. What I can do to improve my writing is to just practice, practice, and practice. And when I am done with it, I will practice some more. Just like playing a guitar, you don’t become an expert overnight.

Here is an interesting short story written by my daughter when she was a sophomore in high school:

I stared at the monstrous river that blocked my destination. The sun’s rays beat down on my face as I squinted toward the other side. The rushing waters looked like it would sweep anything crossing its path down to oblivion. Tampico, the Shetland pony I was riding, neighed. Could I cross the river, and could Tampico make it through the rushing current? The river looked too brutal, so I decided it was not quite time to try just as yet. I turned around back towards my house.

Everyday in the summer, I would ride Tampico up and down the driveway of my house. Tampico was a white pony with a long, fluffy tail. He was very gentle, tame, and best of all, brave. And yet everyday, we would both face the same challenge of the surging river, daring us to cross its sparkling yet mysterious waters.

“Dinner” I heard my mom call out. I could feel my stomach churning and anticipating the delicious meals my mom always made. The river could wait another day…right now it was dinnertime.

The next day, the sun welcomed Tampico and me outside as I fed the pony some apples from my family’s orchard. I could hear boats sailing through Lake Washington, which was just a mile away from my house. The dazzling surface of the lake blinded my eyes when the sun reflected off of it. I thought about the river. The weather looked a little bit gloomy and a few patches of clouds filled the sky, but the current was not as strong as it had been, so I thought it would be the best time to cross.

I mounted Tampico, and we slowly made our way out of the orchard towards the river’s muddy edge. I glared at the river as if trying to read its mind…trying to find the exact moment when the river would be most vulnerable and easiest to cross. I did not mind the challenge, but I did not want little Tampico to drown. The stream looked serene and peaceful, rather than angry and full of revenge. I dug my heels into Tampico’s side and nudged him to move forward. He looked up at me with longing eyes and asked if we could wait just one more day to cross, but I knew we had waited too long for this journey. It was time to cross the river. It would be the biggest challenge of our lives.

After seven years of staring at the furious river, which no kids in our neighborhood ever dared to cross, Tampico and I gracefully made our way across the stream. I breathed in a sigh of relief, and pride set in my mind as I held my head up high. I was the bravest kid in the neighborhood.

We were halfway across when, unexpectedly, the river started to take on a dark and gloomy shade. The water began to churn mysteriously, and haze settled around us. Fears built up inside me, and I could feel my heart beating more rapidly every second. We were no longer in the tranquil river we had first started to cross… it had switched personalities and turned into an enraged accumulation of fury. Splashing waves crashed against the riverbacks, and icy shards of rain began to fall.

“Neeeiiiggghhh!” Tampico cried out in fear. I could sense him struggling to keep his balance on the rocky bottom.

I gripped on to Tampico’s neck with all my might. “Hold on Tampico! We can make it!” Just a little bit farther in the distance was the othe side of the river. If it would just calm down for a moment, we could make it.

But it was too late. Tampico lost his footing and we were both tossed around in the river. I couldn’t see anything because the water clouded my eyes. I coughed and coughed trying to keep my head above the surface. I could hear Tampico panicking. The droplets of water boisteroulsy laughed at us as it splashed our faces and I could hear the rocks on the bottom giggling and tittering at us. They had all tricked us into crossing the deadly waters.

Suddenly, I felt a hand grab my wrist. I turned around only to see that it was my mom. “Stephanie, didn’t I tell you not to play in the street?” she asked sternly.

“I wasn’t playing in the street, mom, I was trying to cross the river!” I insisted, trying to grab Tampico. “Help Tampico! He’s drowning!” I helplessly cried.

“You and your imagination, pick up that bicycle of yours…Tampico…whatever you call it, and go inside!”

I sighed and picked up Tampico. I knew I wouldn’t stop trying to achieve my goal of crossing the river. Yes, the raging, taunting river may have only been 26th street, and Tampico may have only been a bike, but there’s nothing wrong with a little imagination.

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Arizona Rain by S.

rocking back and forth
on the white wicker chair
each sting of the glassy pearls
pricking the sheltering porch rail
humorously magnified
by the motionless of the wind
restless
weariness,
soaking in the rain
ba-rum-pum-pum only
by the drumming of my fingers
tapping the white wicker chair
so only the rain,
the welcome pitter-patter of the rain
the ching-a-ling-ling of the wind chimes
and my drumming echo
beyond trenched coat clouds
a broken resonance
as the steel droplets cut through the wind
leafy plumes reach out,
streched, and trembling
from so many dry days
so many seasons glanced over
swishhhhhhh…
a last enamored wash of rain
until nothing
but slowly sleeping morsels of dust
leftover droplets disguised as glass
the thankful, satiated flora
and my discordant tapping
remain.

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One afternoon, my husband, and my daughters A and S, suddenly, decided to go for a ride to Young, AZ. It is an hour and 15 minutes drive from where I live. I decided to stay home to finish my household chores, do some errands in town and mainly, to be left alone.

This is A posing with the sword that belonged to Geronimo when he surrendered. He was a
feared leader of the Apache Indian in the 1800. To the Apaches, Geronimo embodied the very essence of the Apache values, aggressiveness, courage amidst adversities. The Spaniards raided and killed Geronimo’s young wife and child, thus, caused him to hate the whites and vowed to kill as many as he could.
My daughter, S, posing in front of the cabin where Frank used to live in 1946. Frank Chapman is the owner of this property. The house is no longer livable at this time. It has a musty odor not having been occupied for a long time. Frank now owns a modern house.

Frank teased the girls that he wouldn’t mind having them in exchange for horses. He did not only say it once but several times. The girls didn’t care for his sense of humor and were rather pissed off! My husband went along with joke and told the guy that he is not easy person to deal with and that he would want many many horses from the exchange. The moment they arrived home, A rushed inside and told me the story. I thought that was funny.
When the creek changed its path coming too close to the backdoor, they had to move the cabin to a new location. In 1946, Frank spent his childhood years in this cabin. Original cabin was built in 1878. Many years thereafter, rooms had been added but this particular cabin was the original one. If you see closely, you will see round bullet holes which were presumably from Indians’ attacks. There are also some bigger holes to put the gun barrel through to defend themselves from attackers. It was sure a hard life those days. I wouldn’t want to live in fear and in constant watch of my back in my own home.
This is the oldest tractor from the Pleasant Valley. It doesn’t work anymore.
This saddle was used by Olga Young in about 1900 for 50 years. She was the postmaster of the Pleasant Valley, which was later named after her. So, that is how Young got its name.
Good shot of my husband holding the sword of Geronimo. Notice the two buttons of his shirt came undone? Hehehe…

Here are some qoutes from Geronimo, the great warrior.

• I was warmed by the sun, rocked by the winds, and sheltered by the trees as other Indian babes
• I was living peacefully when people began to speak bad of me.
• Now I can sleep well, eat well and be glad. I can go anywhere with a good feeling.
• The soldiers never explained to the government when the Indian was wronged, but reported the misdeeds of the Indians.
• We took an oath not to do any wrong to each other or to scheme against each other.
• I cannot think that we are useless or God would not have created us.
• There is one God looking down on us all. We are all the children of one God. The sun, the darkness, the winds are all listening to what we have to say.
• When a child, my mother taught me to knell and pray to Usen for strength, health, wisdom, and protection.
• Sometimes we prayed in silence, sometimes each one played aloud, sometimes an aged person prayed for all of us…and to Usen.
• I was born on the prairies where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no enclosures.

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Today is January 1, 2007, and here is my New Year’s Resolution

• Exercise at most an hour a day, 4 days a week.
• Eat sensibly.
• Be happy.
• Work at a comfortable and relaxed pace.
• Getting to know more about God by studying Bible.
• Spending less time on computer and more on the household matters.

I did pretty good controlling my appetite last Christmas. I don’t remember eating desserts on Christmas day and New Year’s dinner. My friend’s delicious homemade apple pie last New Year’s eve was hard to resist but for some reason, I totally forgot all about it and missed eating a piece. It was probably because I wasn’t feeling good that day because of flu.

We had our Christmas dinner over at a friend’s house. I bought three kinds of desserts: apple pie, pecan pie, and biko. Biko disappeared quickly. The apple pie and pecan pie were barely touched. I didn’t take any leftover desserts home. It is one of my tricks to stop me from indulging. Now, am back to eating rice and bagoong for weeks…hehe

How was your Christmas and New Year’s dinner?

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