New Home

 

The Philippine National Flag

...a souvenir I got on one of my trips back HOME

I'm missing home recently... again, for the "nth" time.

I lost count of how many times I dream 

and wish that I could be home again.

Though I'm very happy to where I am now...

I can't help but still think of my home.

My first home is so far, thousands of miles away... 

I have a home that I always long to see.

but right now, I'm here in my NEW home that I long to have.

A new home where I perfectly belong...

My new HOME ... to where I perfectly belong!

Bukang Liwayway

"I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree!"

Iba talaga ang nagagawa ng liwanag.

Nagigising ang iyong kamalayan,

at nakikita mo ang lahat.

At habang patuloy mong tinatahak ang landas na

sa pakiwari mo'y akma para sa lahat;

naririnig mo ang mahinang pintig ng iyong dibdib,

at naaninag mo ang ngiti ng mga ulap sa kalawakan.

Tumitingkad ang buo mong kapaligiran,

maging ang mga alikabok na dati-rati'y nakakapuwing

ay biglang nawalan sa iyo ng saysay.

"I saw this flowers yesterday... I thought of love, I thought of you."

"Keep walking... while you can!"

Volare

This is one popular Italian song that I love listening to, not only for the melody but also for the chance to enjoy another language, another culture, another world where my husband and I (I assume) belongs.

Volare means "to fly"

Sto volando... I'm flying

For me, each day I feel like flying... at least my mind flies away, thinking of the many things that make me appreciate life more and being forever grateful that I'm one of those people God has blessed with this wonderful gift of life.

Each day I feel like flying...

Dolce... sweet life!

Here's a birthday cake surprise given to me by my husband last year

Here's the first cake I baked and decoarted myself

Here's a slice from my first baked cake

This my first attempt at baking and decorating my own cupcakes

            It was never an easy thing be a full time housewife. I was always working since I graduated from the university that staying at home day in and day out could be a really tough reality to adjust with. How did I manage my loads of FREE time?

           Up until now, I try to make myself busy every day. I explore the parks nearby. I walk around the city. I check the shops once in awhile. I visit to the flea markets. I spend time with my mother in law to practice the Italian language I'm learning from the school. I visit the bakeries and pastry shops. I visit churches, right... there are too many here in Italy. I sew stuff and I even learned knitting from my husband's mom. I watch people as I sit on the park bench. I planted tomatoes, parsley and basil. Yes, I did try gardening. 

            I started working on my oil paintings, too. I went swimming in the community pool. I ride my bicycle when I can. I also go to the gym. I cook our meals every single day. I read novels, I watch TV programs in Italian and I bake among many other things... The last one was the most interesting... as you can see from my photos.

          Dolce in Italian is a general term they use to refer to sweets, desserts and pastries... 

          Dolce Vita ... Sweet Life... I guess it is, I have learned many things about myself and about life since I got married. With the plenty of time I got, I realized that there are countless things I am capable of doing. I didn't know I could do them before... but I surely miss being a teacher!

            

a flash

One day,
One moment,
One instant...


Give your sweet smile, share your time, express your fears or worries, say your prayers and work on your wishes. Don't forget that every single moment we have is divine.


Each day is a gift... so make it worthwhile!

Nonsensical fuss

      

           At the nearby "pizzeria"... I watched how the "pizzaiolo" prepares pizzas. Watching him was both fun and interesting. I was learning something! it looks like his job was very easy that I can even think of doing it myself, no sweat! We have our usual pizza night with my inlaws and that's my chance to see my chosen pizza being prepared right in front of me. 

        

         I tried to prepare my own pizza with the help of my husband. It wasn't easy! It wasn't how I thought it would be. There's no such thing as an easy job... moreso, it wasn't something I'm used to do... Pizza seems to be an ordinary thing here, but I can never make a good quality pizza myself. 

           It isn't a trivial stuff... you learn to do something, you hone your skills and then make them perfect. Each time I bite on my pizza, I think of the people who prepared them well!

                

it fits

"Why Is It?"
by Shel Silverstein

Why is it some mornings
Your clothes just don't fit?
Your pants are too short
To bend over or sit,
Your sleeves are too long
And your hat is too tight--
Why is it some mornings
Your clothes don't feel right?

           I am reading all sorts of things lately. I had to find something to focus again. I have lost something recently but I have gained something more, something worthy. I am missing something. However, I am looking forward for more. I wonder what else am I looking for? I am asking that question again...why? why? and why?

           I don't know exactly what messages I receive each moment as I open my eyes to start thinking and feeling the world around me. I am not sure if I'm located to where I should be, to where I must be. But, who cares? We wear the clothes we like, we eat the food we want, we say and feel what we think we want to. We just tend to go with the flow. That FLOW, the flow that we all follow unceasingly...that's all that matters.

           We try to float, we try to swim, we dive and leap if we could, we run just as fast, we walk slowly too, we try our best and if the flow is right as HE planned it...we feel so easy, we feel so light.

           And yet on some mornings when our clothes don't feel right...don't be bothered. The way we look doesn't matter. It is how we carry those clothes, it's how those clothes protect us from heat or cold.
          

           On some mornings when things seem to be tough...a prayer can always make us feel alright. Those clothes will fit...in HIS time

written on 12 September 2009

My Father's Hands

      My Father's Hands

             I remember how we cried when my "Atang" (father) died. I was just 9 years old. I remember vividly how the funeral went... how I waited for hours everyday on his wake... how family traditions and culture unfolded each day... how I tried to sleep each night during his wake... how I met the different members of our extended family... how I met the people we call friends.

            I remember how his last painting looked like. No matter how I try to erase it from my memory, it's just painted there... stuck forever. It's like a permanent ink, a mental tattoo. I have that high regard for my father that every bit of those memories I have of him, will forever be there... more precious than anything I could ever buy for myself.

One of the earlier paintings of my Atang

            It's interesting how I remember his smell:  the distinct smell of oil paint, mixed with the stinking scent of his cigarettes and his body odor that signifies days of not having shower. I have captured his silence when he paints, and his happiness when he succeeded in finishing a painting. Somehow I learned that a colored canvass can transform his face into a dignified man.

            I would always wait for that moment when he would sign his name. That was the moment where I would tell myself, "He wrote his sentence!" The signature is his period, the full stop; to all the words he wanted to express in such a big piece of ART. For me it's a wonder... a white canvass turns into a book, into a story, into an art, into a source of existence for our family, and more it brings out that dignified look on my father's face. His sense of fulfillment is all wrapped-up in the different colors of every painting he had created.

              I can imagine my father's hands, as they move on every painting he had created before he died...

       

E Perchè?

E Perchè?      

For every mountain that we see, there is a REASON.

For every raindrop... there is a SOURCE.

For every teardrop... there is an ANSWER.

For every little step... there is a DREAM achieved.

For every cloud, for every star, for every rainbow... 

there is a REASON!

For every prayer, for each good friend... 

there are blessings of LOVE and HOPE!

my thoughts September 7, 2011

Arona, Italy   (October 2010)