Lately, I've spent more time at home. It's been a month since I moved to the new apartment. (Yes, it's been a month, and this is only the first time I am writing about it. I want to show pictures only when I feel I've completed all the decorating of the place. Until then I will hold the post.) And since then I've been working at home a lot, writing my scripts and articles here, and checking and responding to mails.
I've also taken to cooking (rather, gone back to it) and to inviting friends and family over for dinner. I love preparing meals for friends and family, and cooking meals for myself.
This one was for dinner last Monday: tenderlean pork cooked in balsamic vinegar and rosemary, topped with pesto.
This one was for tonight, at the dinner I gave my little brother and sister: Breakfast steak cooked tender in olive oil and soy sauce, topped with sauteed asparagus and garlic slices.
My guests: niece Wendy, brother Andrew, and cousin Wilma.
This is me with my baby sister, Mikee, and niece, Wendy.
Of course, we had fun. And of course, they liked the food. So here's to more home-cooked meals and to lasting bonds with family and friends! Cheers!
The Chronicler's Creed
Where there's water and sun, where there are friends to see or new people to meet, where there's something new to learn, experience, or do, where there's life, there I will be.
LA POESÍA
Y fue a esa edad... Llegó la poesía
a buscarme. No sé, no sé de dónde
salió, de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,
no, no eran voces, no eran
palabras, ni silencio,
pero desde una calle me llamaba,
desde las ramas de la noche,
de pronto entre los otros,
entre fuegos violentos
o regresando solo,
allí estaba sin rostro
y me tocaba.
And it was at that age... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I do not know, I do not know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I do not know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
- An excerpt from LA POESÍA (Poetry) by Pablo Neruda
My guests: niece Wendy, brother Andrew, and cousin Wilma.
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hey luto mo ulit yan ha for us,,,i'm craving now!-paige
ReplyDeletegusto ng something japanese naman. japanese rice and tempura.
ReplyDelete