We went to the park last week. After all the rains, thunderstorms and the constant threat of tornadoes, we were so happy to be outside on a sunny day. I was chatting with another parent about the NHL playoffs but when it was time to go home for lunch, I could not find Benjamin anywhere. Would you help me find Benjamin?
These photos were taken last year when I was in New York on Palm Sunday. Actually I came in on Wednesday, April 1st, the day before my Mom was scheduled for an operation. The surgery went well and I spent the next few days at the hospital, sitting by Mom's bedside. I was committed to make the trip because I would never forgive myself if the operation did not go well and I was not there with my family. Last year, Palm Sunday was on April 5th. My husband laughed when I told him that I attended 8:15 a.m. Mass. He almost did not believe me because he knew I did not like to get up early. I explained that I had to since Mom was scheduled to be discharged that morning. I flew back to St. Louis the following Tuesday after we were able to secure a nurse and a homecare aid to provide medical follow up and assistance with chores.
Continue with the food theme, this post features Mother In Law House Restaurant in St. Charles, Missouri. We live about 30 minutes driving time from St. Charles and we enjoy walking along the Riverfront Area, visiting the shops and a few restaurants on Historic Main Street. We passed by the Mother In Law House many times and the name sounds interesting but for some reasons we never ate there. Whether because the pricing was way off our limited budget or we were not hungry at that particularly time. Next time I will make sure we plan for a meal there and give a full report so my adoring fans could decide whether to visit Mother In Law House Restaurant on your next trip to St. Charles. Here is what Wikipedia has on the famous visit to St. Charles by Lewis and Clark "William Clark arrived in St. Charles on May 16, 1804. With him were 40 men and three boats; there they made final preparations, as they waited for Meriwether Lewis to arrive from St. Louis. They attended dances, dinners, and a church service during this time, and the excited town was very hospitable to the explorers. Lewis arrived via St. Charles Rock Road on May 20, and the expedition launched the next day in a keelboat at 3:30 pm. St. Charles was the last established American town they would visit for more than two and a half years."
After we sang Happy Birthday to Mom, the cake was cut and distributed, I sat and listened to Mom repeating events she has told many times before. I saw no need to tell her that I already heard these stories. I knew someday I would wish I could hear Mom telling these same stories but she would be no longer around. Later, I asked Mom if I could look over her vast collections of photos in albums that are neatly organized and labeled. We had a wonderful time, just the two of us, looking over family photos including those when we first came to New York in 1980 taken with the really cheesy Kodak camera using 110 millimeter film.
(Photo below of cherry blossoms was taken on Saturday, May 2nd during a walk around Bay Ridge neighborbhood.) 
Mom giggled while telling me about the black and white photos in her youth, the different poses, especially when she was 17 years old. Mom pointed out who was who in her family and her friends in Viet Nam in each photo. I tried to write down in my notebook as fast as I could without asking Mom to slow down because I did not want to interrupt her thoughts. I marveled at the differences between our lives, from birth, childhood, grew up in Viet Nam then to America, marriages, to the changes in our world that shaped the persons we have become, the cultures that both included opportunities as well as barriers to us a women, where we are and what we will be.
Mom was the only daughter and the youngest child with three older brothers while I was the oldest child with a sister and two brothers. When Mom was born, Viet Nam was part of French Indochina (the federation ended in 1954 after the French surrendered at Dien Bien Phu) while the US escalated its involvement when I came into the world in the 1960s. (All photos below taken on Wednesday, May 7, 2009 at Brooklyn Botanical Garden.)
(I took the above photo while imagining Mom and I sitting together on the bench in the garden talking and sharing stories.) Mom got married when she turned 20; that was the year I came to America, after escaped from the Communist controlled and also a possible arranged marriage. I got married when I was 28 years old (a really old maid), living in Michigan; at 28, Mom was a mother of 4, living in Cho Lon, Viet Nam.
When we came to America (NYC) in 1980, Mom was 41 years old, having to start her life over, learning a new language and adjusting to a new culture. Would I have the strength to do over at that age, giving up my home, my car, my comfortable living for the chance to live in freedom? I thought of the time when I tried to explain things to Mom, only to find out later that I was wrong. Mom never had a job outside of the family business. She never learned to drive and travel on vacation was a luxury for her generation. I had plenty of opportunities to obtain higher education, working as office professional and making financial decisions without seeking prior approval from anyone. Mom loves to show off her cooking while I love talking about hockey and football.
At 70 years old, Mom still has beautiful and almost flawless skin. She takes pride in her cooking and taking care of her only grandson brings her happiness. What would I be when I am 70 years old? What purpose do I have in life besides my hockey games? Why do we always have regrets and wish we could erase the times when we were disrespectful to our parents or believed that we knew more than they did? I am lucky that I didn't have a daughter who would give me the heartache and half of the headache I caused my parents. Thank you Mom for all the loving you have given me. Happy 70th Birthday! 
My adoring fans and faithful readers, please join me in extending a warm welcome to Benjamin Saturday. Isn't he adorable? Benjamin was a gift from my World Best Nephew (WBN) during my visit to Bensonhurst (thus Benjamin) on the 6th day of the week (thus Saturday). Above photo shows Benjamin (aka BEST) in front of Brooklyn Public Library and Grand Army Plaza in Park Slope.
For 10 days earlier this month, I was in NYC having a wonderful time with my Mom celebrated her 70th birthday and a nice family dinner at Tropical Malaysian Restaurant for Mother's Day. (I was pleasantly surprised that Mom agreed to let us treat her to a dinner and did not insist on cooking instead.) My sister and I visited the Brooklyn Botanical Garden and had dinner, just the two of us girls, at Blue Smoke BBQ on 27th Street, near Union Square in Manhattan (the owner is originally from St. Louis but we did not receive a discount). I was trusted to take my WBN to school in the morning, and one evening when both my brother and his wife attended a function, after homework, I helped WBN with a bath and read to him at bedtime. I hope that proved that I could be trusted as a good babysitter :)
Special thanks to my brother TL for his understanding in making sure that I would not miss any NHL playoffs games, especially when the Red Wings were playing. I even managed to turn WBN into a Red Wings fan and hopefully he will become a hockey fanatic like me :)
More about my visit and of course, plenty of photos of BEST, my visit to Hunter College, my former work place on Exchange Place, Wall Street area and Coney Island, with lot of stories, in future posts. 
The sign reads, "Happy Mother's Day. Mom called and said she wants a mattress."
Saw during a walk on Sunday, May 10th, clever marketing by Sleepy's on 86th Street and 23rd Avenue in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.
St. Mary, Mother of Jesus Church in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.
Happy Mother's Day to all MOMS and to all those who love and take care of others just like Mothers would without the official title.
Remember, O man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return.(Latin: Memento homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris.) Genesis 3:19
I took the above photo at Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York. It was a raining day in December 2007. How appropriate to have the sign "One Way" in a cemetery. No matter how rich, how smart or how good looking a person is, he/she will eventually die, just like everyone else. We all move toward "one way" of living and sooner or later reaching the inevitable final stage. Cemeteries are kind of like museum without walls, unspoken stories of the past, a quiet place for walking, some provide beautiful landscapes, historic headstones of famous people, some with exquisite art works and definitely a place for thoughtful reflection. Green-Wood is Brooklyn's great Victorian Garden Cemetery. The first burial took place in 1840. More than 70 individuals who died in the September 11, 2001 attack were buried at Green-Wood. Famous people and mayors of New York City were buried here. 
Ash Wednesday Mass was at 7 p.m. so we just had a piece of toast and big glass of juice after we both got home from work. We were supposed to fast and abstain from meat all day. It was not that difficult except during a committee meeting when lunch was being served and a tray of cookies was placed in front of me.
It was written that "Everyone wants to go to heaven but no one wants to die". I often wonder if the person does not believe in heaven or hell, then what happens to the soul when the body died. I am not trying to "shove my religion down anyone's throat" or impose my faith on the readers, just trying to understand the other side of non-believers. If there is no such thing as the souls, then what exactly are the emotions such as love, guilt, sense of longing, connections or feelings?
I always visited my Dad's resting place (niche) whenever I was in New York. Most of the time the visit would include Mom, my brother, sister and my husband. My sister-in-law and her family (from mainland China) believe that death is bad luck and cemeteries are places to stay away from as, again, places of bad luck. Of course, it is not good luck when a person passed away, but in their supertious minds, these people don't consider that dying is part of life. For example, when someone in the family died, members of this family must not go to other people's homes and no one would visit that family either, for a period of 30 days or longer. We were "instructed" not to look at the casket when it was being carried to the hearse. After we came home from the funeral, we were supposed to wash our face first before entering the house. It was February and freezing cold that day! I did not care for any of these silly practices.I usually asked for a moment alone with my Dad, just quietly said that I missed him and that we always think of him. "Rest well, Dad. I love you." before leaving.
I took the above photo during a trip to Washington D.C in July 1989. We were walking around, and I asked my sister and brothers to slow down to wait for Mom and Dad. As I turned around, I saw Mom and Dad, after more than 30 years of marriage, still holding hands, a moment of true lasting love when Dad leaned over and gave Mom a gentle kiss. Mom had a smile of a blushing bride. I am so grateful that I was able to capture the moment and thankful for the gift of seeing the love my parents had shared.I am sure I am not the only woman who does not care for Valentine's Day. I am not against the occassion and everyone has the rights to celebrate what is important to them and their relationship. From the beginning of our courtship, I informed my husband that in my humble opinion Valentine's Day is marketing ploy invented by florists, restaurants and greeting cards companies. When I was single living in New York, I remembered on Valentine's Day, the women in the office would wait anxiously for their flowers be delivered, sent by their significant others. Those that did not get the flowers, except me, were disappointed, felt rejected and unloved.This entry is not about Valentine's Day. It is about the love my parents shared for more than forty years. Their marriage was arranged but not forced. Neither Mom nor Dad was perfect and they went through many difficult times. Dad told me one time that he would not able to go on living without Mom. He said that he would prefer to pass away first. Well, he got his wish!Here is a previously published post in April 2008 about how my parents got married. "Like many marriages during that time, my parents' marriage was arranged by someone who was respected and knew both parents from business circle. The marriage was arranged but not forced. My maternal grandparents were business owners and respected in the village. There were many matchmakers already inquired about their youngest and only daughter. My Mom was an attractive young lady combined with her parents' wealth explained the long list of many suitors. After the initial contact by a business acquaintance who was also a well-known matchmaker, my paternal grandfather (A Cung) made a visit from Cau Ngang (my Dad's birthplace) to my maternal grandfather (Che Cung) in Cau Tau Ha (Mom's birthplace). A month or so, another meeting was arranged, this time my Dad came along. The first time Mom saw Dad was when she was asked to serve tea to A Cung, Dad and other guests as an informal face to face introduction. Mom said that she was so nervous that when she put the teapot down in front of Dad, she almost slammed the teapot on the table.Later, Mom's parents (Che Cung & Che Pho) asked Mom whether she liked Dad and whether she would agree to marry him. Mom knew she was not forced and could refuse the arrangement. Fortunately for Dad, Mom responded that it was up to her parents. Che Cung mentioned that he had consulted others about Dad's family, his characters and based on Dad's facial features, he thought Dad would be a loving husband and a good father. Che Cung said that he did not pay attention to the fact that Dad's family wealth was not of the same level. His only concern was finding a husband who would be faithful and loving to his only daughter.After the engagement was announced, Dad would visit Mom every other month during his business trips. They would go for a walk or to the park, not alone but with two elderly ladies following and keeping watch. There was no such thing as "roadside kissing" or drive-in movie, Talk about the big difference compared to what takes place in today's society regarding relationships and marriages. Mom still remembered the poems Dad wrote to her and the long letters she sent back each week. The wedding was a three-day celebration with lot of relatives, and guests from both families attended. In the traditional setting, the groom's family took care of all the expense for the wedding and presented gifts to the bride's family. There were many people who came to the wedding with gifts of expensive items and money to show respect and to express their gratitute for the help Che Cung had assisted them over the years.My favorite story was that as part of the wedding celebration, Che Cung gave a large sum of money to build a school in the village. The principal wanted to name the school after Che Cung and he refused. (Che Cung suggested that the school had the same name as the village.) Talk about being a true humanitarian and modesty.From the humble home in Viet Nam, to the journey seeking freedom in the open sea, to the little hut in the refugee camp, to the new land in America, each step we took towards a good life, Dad was there with us, providing and caring the best way he could. Happy Anniversary, Mom & Dad. Thank you, Dad, for all you did for us."There you have it, a true moment of love and a lifetime of lasting love.
I did it, I cooked dinner last night. I could hear the laughters coming from Qaptain Qwerty all the way from Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. In case you did not already know from reading my blog that I do not cook. I don't have any recipes, Vietnamese nor Chinese dishes. I enjoy eating the good food my Mom prepares but was never interested in cooking. My Mom said to me one time that without cooking skills, no one would marry me if we were in Viet Nam. I responded, "That was why we came to America."Where we live, there are many restaurants along Main street, most of them are fast food. I would call to place an order, then either CP or I would pick up dinner on our way home from work. There is a favorite Mexican family restaurant where we usually ordered bistek zacatecano (strips of steak covered with tomatillo sauce served with tortillas) and combination plate with tamale, flauta, burrito and enchilada. We also order walleye sandwiches or BBQ ribs from other restaurants or pizza delivery. We are trying to cut down on the expenditure of take out dinners, but I am so sick of salad, canned soups or cereal. We already packed sandwiches for lunch. One of my goals this year is to eat healthy, definitely no more fast food. So cooking a decent dinner would be the appropriate answer. Except for the bell peppers that I had to cut up into little pieces, other ingredients were just open the bags or container and place in the skillet. I also have to cut the sausage and the kielbasa. Surprisingly the bowties pasta turned out just right. I cooked enough for next day lunch and probably two more dinners. I plan to make fried rice this weekend.Note to Qaptain Qwerty, make sure Mom is sitting down so she won't faint in disbelief when you tell her that I cooked dinner. I am sure she would never believe from looking at these photos that I actually cooked a decent meal. She probably thinks I did it with lot of help from CP.
The broccoli and cauliflower were raw. I was too hungry to wait so I decided to cook them the next day. I love mushrooms, shredded carrots (has to be shredded), bean sprouts, any kind of bell pepper, green, yellow and red.
This rice cooker (photo below) was a gift from my brother, TL, after I got married and moved to Michigan. The joke was that it was so easy that even someone like me who was (still am) so domestically challenged could cook a decent pot of rice. My mom showed me how to wash the rice, add the right amount of water, press the button and when the rice was cooked, the button popped up, that was all there was to know. Well, I must admit there were a few times the rice was either half cooked (not enough water) or really mushy (too much water). It must be the wrong kind of rice!
We took a long weekend trip to Branson, Missouri a few weeks ago. Branson is about 4.5 hours drive from St. Louis. We stayed at the Hilton on the Landing, by the waterfront. Among the displays in the lobby of the hotel that featured natural wonders of the Ozarks was the above art work showing wave of butterflies during their annual southward migration. A hotel employee commented as I was taking the photos, "Don't these look like flying clams." I smiled just to be polite but did not respond to his comment. I understand everyone looks at things and interprets what he sees differently, but this person must have a beyond-this-earth imagination to be looking at this particular display of little creatures, on the wall, stretching towards the high ceiling and thought these were "flying clams". Perhaps he was the person who started the phrase "flying pigs" or buffalos with wings.
There are scupltures of butterflies being placed around town. It reminded me of the scupltures of cows seen around New York City. The above butterfly was in the vestibule of Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church. 
We did not have time to visit the Butterfly Palace. According to the brochure we picked up from the hotel, the Palace features thousands of exotic butterflies, imported from Costa Rica, Malaysia, Africa and other countries, under strict control by the USDA. Visitors were promised a unique opportunity to see butterflies and birds in their natural environment. As always, I thought of my family and how I wished NYC was within an hour of driving distance. An afternoon with my nephew, Mom and Sister at the Butterfly Palace would have been nice. The two scupltures below are displayed in front of the hotel. In the bottom photo, you could see my husband and his T-bird.
I saw the above printed shirt at a gift shop while visiting Grand Haven last April. Whoever thought of the expression, Don't leave me aloon, was pretty clever playing with the word "loon" a ducklike bird, with a drawing of a goose. I dedicated this entry specially to my brother, Qaptain Qwerty.When VL was about six years old (in Viet Nam), being such a cute little boy that he already had a few adoring fans even at such young age. One day as Mom and I watched from the balcony as VL turned around the corner on his way home from school, suddenly he found out that he was being followed by three little baby ducks. At first VL was delighted at the little creatures and enjoyed the groupies. Then as VL started to walk faster, the little duckies continued to keep up the pace. VL started to run, the little duckies were right on his heels. At this point, VL was terrified and began to yell out (I don't remember what he said). A neighbor chased the little duckies away and VL never give the little duckies the same loving looks again. Too bad that VL first experience with groupies did not turn out as good. Back in Grand Haven, after the gift shop, at the boardwalk, we saw the lonely goose (photo below) all by himself on the sidewalk. After I took the photo, I said to my husband that we should leave the goose aloon! 
A few weeks ago, Luc Bourdon, a defenseman with the Vancouver Canucks, was killed in a motorcycle crash. He was only 21 years old. These photos were taken when I attended the game last Thanksgiving. The photo above caught a glimpse of Bourdon (#28) as he was skating away during practice. At the time I focused more on the Sedin twin brothers, Henrik #33 and Daniel #22. Of course, everyone paid more attention to the team captain, Markus Naslund #19. After we heard the sad news, I blurted out that his passing such untimely as it was during the Stanley Cup Final. My husband teased me and said that he promised to make sure to arrange so that his death would not be interfering with NHL playoffs schedule or during the Superbowl. When my Dad passed away in 2001, he was only 67 years old. After extended their condolences, many people commented that Dad died at such young age. I guess because we are expected to live to be at least 80 or older. One time when my Mom and I talked bitterly why Dad being such a good person had suffered from cancer and did not get to enjoy a good life after all the years working and taking care of our family and that death should take his young brother who was a terrible husband, a womanizer, drinking, gambling, mistreated his children and family. Then Mom mentioned a Vietnamese expression, "Troi Keu Ai Nay Da" No one could avoid death if their names are called. She further commented, "Look at Princess Diana and John F. Kennedy, Jr., they were so good looking and they died so young." We shared a good laugh when I said, "Do you think only ugly people would die?" Rest In Peace, Luc. I am sure there is hockey in heaven.
We went to the park last week. After all the rains, thunderstorms and the constant threat of tornadoes, we were so happy to be outside on a sunny day. I was chatting with another parent about the NHL playoffs but when it was time to go home for lunch, I could not find Benjamin anywhere. Would you help me find Benjamin?
These photos were taken last year when I was in New York on Palm Sunday. Actually I came in on Wednesday, April 1st, the day before my Mom was scheduled for an operation. The surgery went well and I spent the next few days at the hospital, sitting by Mom's bedside. I was committed to make the trip because I would never forgive myself if the operation did not go well and I was not there with my family. Last year, Palm Sunday was on April 5th. My husband laughed when I told him that I attended 8:15 a.m. Mass. He almost did not believe me because he knew I did not like to get up early. I explained that I had to since Mom was scheduled to be discharged that morning. I flew back to St. Louis the following Tuesday after we were able to secure a nurse and a homecare aid to provide medical follow up and assistance with chores.
Continue with the food theme, this post features Mother In Law House Restaurant in St. Charles, Missouri. We live about 30 minutes driving time from St. Charles and we enjoy walking along the Riverfront Area, visiting the shops and a few restaurants on Historic Main Street. We passed by the Mother In Law House many times and the name sounds interesting but for some reasons we never ate there. Whether because the pricing was way off our limited budget or we were not hungry at that particularly time. Next time I will make sure we plan for a meal there and give a full report so my adoring fans could decide whether to visit Mother In Law House Restaurant on your next trip to St. Charles. 
After we sang Happy Birthday to Mom, the cake was cut and distributed, I sat and listened to Mom repeating events she has told many times before. I saw no need to tell her that I already heard these stories. I knew someday I would wish I could hear Mom telling these same stories but she would be no longer around. Later, I asked Mom if I could look over her vast collections of photos in albums that are neatly organized and labeled. We had a wonderful time, just the two of us, looking over family photos including those when we first came to New York in 1980 taken with the really cheesy Kodak camera using 110 millimeter film.
Mom giggled while telling me about the black and white photos in her youth, the different poses, especially when she was 17 years old. Mom pointed out who was who in her family and her friends in Viet Nam in each photo. I tried to write down in my notebook as fast as I could without asking Mom to slow down because I did not want to interrupt her thoughts. I marveled at the differences between our lives, from birth, childhood, grew up in Viet Nam then to America, marriages, to the changes in our world that shaped the persons we have become, the cultures that both included opportunities as well as barriers to us a women, where we are and what we will be.
(I took the above photo while imagining Mom and I sitting together on the bench in the garden talking and sharing stories.) Mom got married when she turned 20; that was the year I came to America, after escaped from the Communist controlled and also a possible arranged marriage. I got married when I was 28 years old (a really old maid), living in Michigan; at 28, Mom was a mother of 4, living in Cho Lon, Viet Nam.
At 70 years old, Mom still has beautiful and almost flawless skin. She takes pride in her cooking and taking care of her only grandson brings her happiness. What would I be when I am 70 years old? What purpose do I have in life besides my hockey games? Why do we always have regrets and wish we could erase the times when we were disrespectful to our parents or believed that we knew more than they did? I am lucky that I didn't have a daughter who would give me the heartache and half of the headache I caused my parents. Thank you Mom for all the loving you have given me. Happy 70th Birthday! 
My adoring fans and faithful readers, please join me in extending a warm welcome to Benjamin Saturday. Isn't he adorable? Benjamin was a gift from my World Best Nephew (WBN) during my visit to Bensonhurst (thus Benjamin) on the 6th day of the week (thus Saturday). Above photo shows Benjamin (aka BEST) in front of Brooklyn Public Library and Grand Army Plaza in Park Slope.
The sign reads, "Happy Mother's Day. Mom called and said she wants a mattress."
St. Mary, Mother of Jesus Church in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.
Happy Mother's Day to all MOMS and to all those who love and take care of others just like Mothers would without the official title.
I took the above photo at Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York. It was a raining day in December 2007. How appropriate to have the sign "One Way" in a cemetery. No matter how rich, how smart or how good looking a person is, he/she will eventually die, just like everyone else. We all move toward "one way" of living and sooner or later reaching the inevitable final stage. Cemeteries are kind of like museum without walls, unspoken stories of the past, a quiet place for walking, some provide beautiful landscapes, historic headstones of famous people, some with exquisite art works and definitely a place for thoughtful reflection. Green-Wood is Brooklyn's great Victorian Garden Cemetery. The first burial took place in 1840. More than 70 individuals who died in the September 11, 2001 attack were buried at Green-Wood. Famous people and mayors of New York City were buried here. 
Ash Wednesday Mass was at 7 p.m. so we just had a piece of toast and big glass of juice after we both got home from work. We were supposed to fast and abstain from meat all day. It was not that difficult except during a committee meeting when lunch was being served and a tray of cookies was placed in front of me.
I always visited my Dad's resting place (niche) whenever I was in New York. Most of the time the visit would include Mom, my brother, sister and my husband. My sister-in-law and her family (from mainland China) believe that death is bad luck and cemeteries are places to stay away from as, again, places of bad luck. Of course, it is not good luck when a person passed away, but in their supertious minds, these people don't consider that dying is part of life. For example, when someone in the family died, members of this family must not go to other people's homes and no one would visit that family either, for a period of 30 days or longer. We were "instructed" not to look at the casket when it was being carried to the hearse. After we came home from the funeral, we were supposed to wash our face first before entering the house. It was February and freezing cold that day! I did not care for any of these silly practices.
I took the above photo during a trip to Washington D.C in July 1989. We were walking around, and I asked my sister and brothers to slow down to wait for Mom and Dad. As I turned around, I saw Mom and Dad, after more than 30 years of marriage, still holding hands, a moment of true lasting love when Dad leaned over and gave Mom a gentle kiss. Mom had a smile of a blushing bride. I am so grateful that I was able to capture the moment and thankful for the gift of seeing the love my parents had shared.
I did it, I cooked dinner last night. I could hear the laughters coming from Qaptain Qwerty all the way from Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. In case you did not already know from reading my blog that I do not cook. I don't have any recipes, Vietnamese nor Chinese dishes. I enjoy eating the good food my Mom prepares but was never interested in cooking. My Mom said to me one time that without cooking skills, no one would marry me if we were in Viet Nam. I responded, "That was why we came to America."
This rice cooker (photo below) was a gift from my brother, TL, after I got married and moved to Michigan. The joke was that it was so easy that even someone like me who was (still am) so domestically challenged could cook a decent pot of rice. My mom showed me how to wash the rice, add the right amount of water, press the button and when the rice was cooked, the button popped up, that was all there was to know. Well, I must admit there were a few times the rice was either half cooked (not enough water) or really mushy (too much water). It must be the wrong kind of rice!
We took a long weekend trip to Branson, Missouri a few weeks ago. Branson is about 4.5 hours drive from St. Louis. We stayed at the Hilton on the Landing, by the waterfront. Among the displays in the lobby of the hotel that featured natural wonders of the Ozarks was the above art work showing wave of butterflies during their annual southward migration. A hotel employee commented as I was taking the photos, "Don't these look like flying clams." I smiled just to be polite but did not respond to his comment. I understand everyone looks at things and interprets what he sees differently, but this person must have a beyond-this-earth imagination to be looking at this particular display of little creatures, on the wall, stretching towards the high ceiling and thought these were "flying clams". Perhaps he was the person who started the phrase "flying pigs" or buffalos with wings. 
There are scupltures of butterflies being placed around town. It reminded me of the scupltures of cows seen around New York City. The above butterfly was in the vestibule of Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church. 
We did not have time to visit the Butterfly Palace. According to the brochure we picked up from the hotel, the Palace features thousands of exotic butterflies, imported from Costa Rica, Malaysia, Africa and other countries, under strict control by the USDA. Visitors were promised a unique opportunity to see butterflies and birds in their natural environment. As always, I thought of my family and how I wished NYC was within an hour of driving distance. An afternoon with my nephew, Mom and Sister at the Butterfly Palace would have been nice. The two scupltures below are displayed in front of the hotel. In the bottom photo, you could see my husband and his T-bird. 
I saw the above printed shirt at a gift shop while visiting Grand Haven last April. Whoever thought of the expression, Don't leave me aloon, was pretty clever playing with the word "loon" a ducklike bird, with a drawing of a goose. I dedicated this entry specially to my brother, Qaptain Qwerty.
Latest exciting news from our back yard - Mom Rabbit (photo above) gave birth (again) to a few more little babies (bottom photo) while PaPa Rabbit kept watch (top photo and below). Mom Rabbit sat still while I came so close as she was not in a position to run away. I hope later at therapist sessions she does not blame me for the trauma I caused her or her children during birthing!
The little new born rabbits are not much to look at. In a few days they would turn into the cutest little fur balls with quick feet.
A few weeks ago, Luc Bourdon, a defenseman with the Vancouver Canucks, was killed in a motorcycle crash. He was only 21 years old. These photos were taken when I attended the game last Thanksgiving. The photo above caught a glimpse of Bourdon (#28) as he was skating away during practice. At the time I focused more on the Sedin twin brothers, Henrik #33 and Daniel #22. Of course, everyone paid more attention to the team captain, Markus Naslund #19. After we heard the sad news, I blurted out that his passing such untimely as it was during the Stanley Cup Final. My husband teased me and said that he promised to make sure to arrange so that his death would not be interfering with NHL playoffs schedule or during the Superbowl. 
