I miss them...

My dear friend Rafi had to put his cat, Humbert, to sleep today.

I feel his pain, sigh.

At the beginning of the year, I lost two of my dogs, Nyko and Coco.

The first to go was Nyko.

He was a King amongst dogs. He was the second dog we ever got.

The first one was Coco.

Ah, my sweet Coco. She was "Her Royal Highness" (HRH). You think I kid, but I do not. She was quite regal. She was also the alpha dog, and ruled supreme over all our other dogs. Nyko used to quake before her.

And he was bigger than her...way bigger.

He was quite a beauty, was he not? Ah, I miss my boy. He loved to be petted. He loved to have the back of his ears rubbed. But his favorite spot was just above his tail. He would always turn around and present his butt to you so that you could scratch it. He was ornery and shameless. He was noble.

Because you see, we eventually got a third dog. Her name is Dixie.

She looks peaceful, does she not? Well, my girl is a bit of a tomboy. As a pup, she had a lot of nervous energy. Nyko patiently put up with her antics. That is until he got annoyed by her cuteness. Then he would growl in warning.

His growling grew deeper when our fourth dog came into the mix. His name is Chip.

Yes, that is a little twinkle you see in his eye. Chip has a lot of personality. He is also not short on energy. Dixie may be hyper, but Chip, oh boy, Chip, he is the energizer bunny on speed!

It is not unusual to see these two knuckleheads pooped out after one of their escapades...

Aw, they make an adorable pair, do they not? I mean, how can you look at them and not have your heart melt?

It is impossible, I tell ya.

They are too cute...

But Nyko and Coco were older than these two. When he died, Nyko was almost 13 years old. He lived a long time for a Rottweiler. He patiently put up with the mischief Dixie and Chip dished out.

Even when he was tired, he was a handsome boy....

And HRH Ms. Coco was almost 15. She was an adorable Chow mix, and mutts usually live longer lives. She grew stubborn in her old age. Dixie and Chip were beneath her, so she chose to ignore them.

Come to think of it, she also chose to ignore me, especially if I had a camera in my hands.

My darlings...I miss them dearly every day.

Sigh.

Frustration

When I was a teenager, I was the technological savvy one. The one who hooked up the vcr and made things work around the house. My parents were clueless about these things and deferred to me in this department. To this day, I will be out shopping with my mother and she will hand me a strange looking gizmo and turn her big brown eyes to me in hopes I can figure out what it is and explain it to her.

There must be something about almost being 40 that affects the technological part of your brain and just makes it sizzle out, because I can't seem to figure out the whole uploading-pictures-to-my-blog-thing! I am sure it is simple and that once I figure out what I am doing wrong, I will feel like a dork for not having figured it out earlier. And this is not the first time I cannot figure out something simple in the technology department either. It took me forever to figure out how to upload pictures to myspace and facebook. I also have trouble figuring out my mac book sometimes. And this is shameful because macs are so freaking intuitive and easy to figure out! Oh, and don't let me get started on the whole Texting Fiasco of 2008. That one will go down in history.

This is where I rethink my whole decision about not having children. I can see how having one of those teenage beings around would come in handy at this point in my life. I think this the sole reason why most people have kids is so that when they get to be my age and their brain starts it's downslide towards dementia, their kids can come in and save them from impending doom.  

Case in point, my 19 year old cousin will come over and laugh at my frustration over something technological. He will then proceed to very calmly, albeit with a smirk on his face, explain the whole thing to me in three easy steps or less. He makes it seem so easy and painless.  

It hurts. It hurst because I used to be the one who would, very easily, calmly and with the smirk on my face, explain things to the adults around me. Now, I find that I am one of those adults on the receiving end of a smarmy teenager. Grrrr!

Then, I am left to ponder: When did it happen? When did I become an adult? I don't feel like an adult. I still feel like I did when I was seventeen. Is that wrong?

And then today, it smacks me on the face: I AM TURNING 40 IN A COUPLE OF MONTHS!!! The horror! I shudder to think what will happen next.

So, I took a couple of deep breaths, found my center and decided that it is OK. I can deal with turning 40. I can deal with my brain fizzing out and not knowing how to upload pictures to my blog. And yes, I can even deal with the smirk on my teenage cousin's face when I ask him to help me figure it out. The reason why I can be calm, cool and collected about all this is very simple: I will eventually figure it out because I always do.  

And once I figure it out, I will upload pictures. I promise.

Chirmol

When I graduated from college, Tanya, one of my roommates, congratulated me and said that she did not know why I had majored in International Relations and Spanish, since I would most likely end up having my own restaurant or bakery.  To be honest, I do enjoy food.  You can tell that just from looking at me.  This enjoyment of food came very early in life.  I was blessed with two grandmothers who were magnificent cooks.  They both taught my mother how to cook well.  My uncles and cousins on both sides have what I call a "delicate palate" since they learned to appreciate good food from these amazing women.  I have toyed a time or two with the idea of opening my own Salvadoran restaurant.  Especially when I am frustrated over the quality of pupusas and other Salvadoran dishes found in some of the Salvadoran restaurants here in Los Angeles.  Despite Tanya's prediction, I don't think I am brave enough to open up my own restaurant or bakery.  I do, however, enjoy sharing food with family and friends.

I started this blog as a way to write in order to relax.  I am not a writer, nor do I claim to be.  I also like reading blogs.  I find that most of the blogs I read are about food.  One of these blogs is called Tea and Cookies, and I was happy to see in it a recipe for chirmol but with a twist:  radishes, finely chopped.  Chirmol is a Salvadoran chunky salsa made with roasted tomatoes.  It is very simple really, but oh so good.  It goes well with a variety of foods.  This was one of the many dishes both my grandmothers excelled at and a common staple at my home while I was growing up.  The author, Tea, (such a cool name)  asked me to share the recipe without a twist like it is done in El Salvador, or at least how it was made in my house by my grandmas.

Here is my amateur attempt at writing a recipe:

Chirmol

4 or 5 tomatoes roasted and with their skins removed

1 onion finely chopped

cilantro finely chopped

parsley finely chopped (optional)

1/4 teaspoon of dry oregano 

salt and lime juice to taste

chile chiltepe or jalapenos finely chopped (optional)

The tomatoes are roasted to the point where their skin begins to crack open.  You can do this over coals or over an open flame.  Remove from flame and cool slightly.  Pull the skins off and chop the tomatoes.  The roasted tomatoes add a different taste to this dish.  It is especially better tasting, in my opinion, when the tomatoes are roasted over hot coals.  However, the open flame works too.  Add the onion, cilantro and parsley.  Rub the dry oregano in the palm of your clean hands and add to the mix.  Add salt and lime juice to taste.  Mix well.  

In El Salvador we grow a type of chile called Chile Chiltepe.  It is a tiny, red chile that is very hot.  We add it to chirmol for some heat.  In lieu of this type of chile, you can add a chopped jalapeno or two, without the seeds,  (depending on how hot you like your food) for some heat.

Enjoy!

View from my window

I work in a law office above a Vietnamese bakery in Echo Park.  I have an office with a huge east facing glass window.  My computer faces the window allowing me a panoramic view of Echo Park Avenue. From my window, I see the hills full of houses.  Echo Park, along with Silver Lake and Hollywood, is full of hills.  I watch the traffic run up and down the street.  There is an amazing amount of people walking up and down, going about running errands and walking dogs.  

Recently, the owner of the bakery took down the banner that spanned the length of the front of the building.  This resulted in light flooding my office.  Not that my office lacked lighting, far from it.  I normally do not turn on the overhead lights because my office is naturally lit by the sunlight.  Not only am I saving energy, but am also reducing my carbon footprint.  Quite frankly, to be honest, I also hate the overhead florescent lights.  However, the banner provided much needed shade from the harshness of the California sun.  This is true of the mornings when the sun is rising and it floods my office with sunlight.  Summer mornings can be especially sunny and warm.  

At first, I was annoyed by the fact that the shade the banner provided was gone.  Great, I thought, I will be inundated by bright sunlight which will inevitably bring on one of my dreaded migraines.  But then, I started noticing certain things.  The first thing I noticed was that I was in a better mood.  The second thing I noticed was that since the days have been overcast lately, the light in my office has been soft.  It adds a certain coziness to my office.  Then I noticed that my good mood continued.  Today, it dawned on me that the added brightness in my office was making me happier!  Don’t get me wrong, I am currently having a love/hate relationship with my job, but the mood in my office lately has been one of bliss and serenity. 

I have started to daydream more too.  That may or may not be a good thing.  I find myself looking out the window and staring at the big fluffy white clouds dance their way across the sky.  I find beauty in the way the palm trees sway in the distance.  I keep watching the painter painting the windowsill in the building next door and marvel at his steady and patient movements.  I enjoy watching the hot pink and purple cascades of bougainvillea flutter about in the wind while their flowers abandon the security of the stem to float away to the uncertainty of unknown places.  I watch the cats across the street as they amble lazily about.  They stop on the stoops and curl up for a few minutes to either take a nap or lick their paws.  They also stare out into space and seem to daydream along with me.  

Yes, I am certainly happier with more light.

Vermont Avenue

I have been living in Los Angeles since 1987.  I was 18 when we moved to Los Angeles from New Jersey.  Yes, it was quite a culture shock.  But I quickly learned to love the sun and the city with its many nuances.  On a good day, I can even tolerate the traffic.  

Today, I had the opportunity to drive down Vermont Avenue.  I usually avoid this street because, despite the name bringing to mind a tranquil street, it is anything but.  

It takes the traveller through major parts of the city, from mid-Wilshire to South Central.  In the middle, you can find yourself going through Koreatown with its many restaurants, karaoke bars and optical boutiques.  The smell of Korean bbq makes you want to stop and try to find parking in one of its many crowded mini-malls.  The mostly Latino area with its restaurants, markets and religious stores where you can buy a dress for your Nino Dios.  It is a very busy thoroughfare with many sights, smells, sounds and colors. 

For me, it was a trip down memory lane.  I remember my days as a community college student taking the bus down this busy street.  As I drove down on my way to pick up my parents from a party they were attending near USC, I could remember moments spent on different parts of Vermont Avenue with different people.   The corner of Washington and Vermont, where my friend Emi and I would spent hours waiting for the bus.  The time my friend Barbara and I went to a party with one of her beaus and we had to walk a long way from where we parked just to get to his house.  His family stared at us like we were bugs the entire time!  I still ponder that one sometimes.

The Korean restaurant that became a favorite during my USC days where my roommate Lisa and I would escape to during midterms and finals.  It stays open till the wee hours of the morning, and Korean food goes great with a hangover.  The Salvadorean bank where one can never find parking and you always get the feeling that you are going to be held up by one of the old timers who hang out there.  

I spent many days and hours walking down this street with my friends.  This is before I ever learned to drive and had a car.  What can I say, I am a late bloomer.  

As I drove down and enjoyed the sights and sounds, I was reminded of many people I have lost touch of throughout the years.  People like my friend Emi who would ride her bike up and down this street to get to LACC each day.  She got hit by a car a few times.  I remember the cuts and bruises.  There was also the Jack in the Box on Adams and Vermont where we would buy fries before going to St. Agnes for our Girl Scout meetings.  My days as a Girl Scout Leader shaping the young minds of the future are best left for another posting.  The Tacos Unicos just across the street where Hector, Ana and I would buy dinner before heading home.  It used to be a small restaurant, but it is now being remodeled into a bigger one to accomodate its growing clientele.

The memories are many and as I drove and remembered, I wondered if any of the people in my memories ever drive down Vermont and think of me as fondly as I think of them.   

can't sleep

it is late and i cannot sleep.  this restlessness has got to stop.  i cannot continue this way.  hopefully i can nap for a couple of hours before i have to get up and face the world.