Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here . In 1985, I spent several days camping in Havasu Canyon with the First Husband-to-be. Havasu Canyon lies just outside of the western border of the Grand Canyon National Park.   The Havasu campground is on the Havasupai Indian Reservation and run by the Havasupai tribe. Havasupai means people of the green blue water.   Havasu Canyon is kno wn for its gorgeous waterfalls that run down to the Colorado River. And , yes, the pools of water were a spectacular green-blue color when we were there. I've seen photos on the Internet that show they stil l are. To get to the campground back then, you either flew in on a helicopter or h iked the winding 10-mile trail down to the canyon floor. I was (and still am) a slow walker, so the First Husband-to-be got to the campground office before me. The reservation was under my name so he and the office manager patiently waited for me to get there. The two men were talk

Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here . Uncle Frank was the Daddy's younger brother by three years. Both left their home in the Philippines when they were in their early 20s. The Daddy left first in 1928, going to Hawaii as a contracted sugar plantation laborer. Uncle Frank left a year later. He sold his carabao to make his fare for a ship to the United States. After a 28-day trip in third class with 250 other young Filipino men, Uncle Frank landed in Seattle.  During the late 1970s, I conducted and ta ped an oral history interview with Uncle F rank. The following is what he said about those first few years (1929-193 1) in America. During those early Depression years , h e traveled to different states to find work by hopping trains. Uncle Frank in the 1970s My ticket was from Philippines to California, but I got no more money so I find a job in Seattle. I saw an advertisement for thinning beets in Minnesota. I apply for the job. We went to

See the flowers outside. The Mama snips off dead blossoms every few days to make sure the flower bushes are bright and cheery for everyone to look at. And, Molly the Cat makes sure she sniffs them every time she is out there to show her appreciation. Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here .

Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here .   The Mama and the Daddy immigrated to the United States from the Philippines, a country that is composed of more than 7,000 islands. So, it goes without saying (but I am anyway) that the archipelago has many distinct cultures that have their own languages.  Because of the islands position next to China and Southeast Asia, the islands were a stopping ground for traders, adventurers, and religious evangelists as they traveled east or west. Until the Spanish arrived in the archipelago in the 16th century, the indigenous peoples did not have the consonant F in their languages. When the Spanish began colonizing the islands in 1565, they introduced the Latin script as way of converting the native people to Catholicism. Yep, the good old sword and the cross shtick. One of the early Spanish explorers decided to name  Leyte and Samar Felipinas or Las islas Filipinas after their king,  Phillip II. Eventually, the Spanish

Check out other A to Z Challenge participants b y clicking here . The Loneliest Road in America truly sums up the stretch of U.S. Route 50 through ce ntral Nevada. I had no idea Nevad a had so many desert valleys until I drove this national highway.  You get over one mountain range and voila ! It's deja vu—a nother endless valley floor with a mountain range staring from afar. In the late 1980s, the First Husband and I decided to drive cross-country, from San Francisco to New York. However, the first day of our adventure began with a dental emergency and a pain that would eventually make itself known as cancer for the First Husband. After several days of checking with doctors, we got in our red Mazda pick-up truck and headed east, with an open mind that we would turn back at Denver if the First Husband did not feel well. I don't remember how we decided to take U.S. 50 rather than the more direct U.S. 80 through Nevada to Utah. Most likely it was the ro

Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here . A few months after the Daddy died, the Mama needed me to uncover the septic tanks in the back yard so that the service guys could come and clear them out. So, one weekend I drove down from San Francisco, where I lived at the time, to do her bidding. The Older and Only Brother lived a few minutes away from her, but she rarely bothered him with such tasks. "He's busy. He has to work on Saturdays. He has a family."  The day of digging was the same day that the Mama went to Reno with the local Filipino club. Her friends had convinced her to go. It would be a good change for her, they told her. I was very relieved that she would not be home. Back then we were always on tense terms. And, if I was doing physical work, it was best to leave me alone. There were two septic tanks in the Mama's backyard. I had no idea. I thought there was only one and I knew where it was. I dug out the tank just like that

Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here . "My dad was a carpenter." That phrase is frozen in my memory.  It was spoken by the Older and Only Brother. I don't recall what the event was or when it happened when I heard him say that. The Brother's choice of memory about the Daddy surprised me, because I don't think of the Daddy as a carpenter. The Daddy did build things. He built the tool shed and the shelters for the chickens, pigeons, pigs, goats, and occasional cow or two that he raised and butchered for our food at the far end of the backyard. We lived in the county, a couple miles away from the city limits, so he could do that.  But, the buildings that the Daddy constructed were not of the quality of ones built by professional carpenters.  I don't know if the Older and Only Brother ever helped him construct the buildings in the backyard. When we moved to that house, he was a teenager and always doing stuff for school or wo

The apricot tree had fewer blossoms than last year. "You pruned too much," said the Mama. Sigh. I needed to cut the low branches so I wouldn't get stabbed in the forehead or the Husband wouldn't get poked in the chest as we wandered through the ya rd while following Molly the Cat. I also wanted to clean up the tangle of branches now rathe r than later when it would be too difficult to do. I want to think the Mama understands all that. But, all she can think of right now is that we will have fewer apricots to eat this year . Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here . " N ext year the tree will have a lot of blossoms , " I said . Sh e didn 't say a word.  We can o nly hope.

 Today's post starts the A to Z Bloggin g Challenge. I'll be going through the alphabet during the month of Ap ril. No posts on Sundays though.  The challenge was founded by Ar lee Bird . Thank you, Arlee! You can check out  A t o Z participants  by clicking here . Now , on with t he first post.... The Aunties .       "Iago?! Iago! Iago! It's Iago!"   The Daddy jumped out of the Filipino tricycle ( a mot orcycle cab ) and strode up to the house, as the Aunties came tumbling out of it. The grey-haired women cried as they hugged the brother they had not seen in nearly 25 years.  Then they saw me standing by the tricycle and they came running and pulled me into their arms. "Susie! Susie!"   They had never seen me before, but they knew it was me. I had never before felt so much unconditional love from strangers. Immediately, I understood what it meant to be part of an extended family. And, it turned out I was related to a lot of people in t

It's time for a pretty picture. Just because I feel like it. Last Saturday, the Husband and I ran away to the beach for the day. We all need to do that now and then. To forget wearies and woes, figures and foes, as well as everyday routines. When was the last time you did that? A few weeks ago, I decided to participate in the A to Z Blogging Challenge that takes place in the month of April. Participants blog through the alphabet, Monday through Saturday. This is another Doing 60 thing for me. You're welcome to drop by one day, some days, or all days in April.  To learn more about the A to Z Blogging Challenge, please click here .

"Boo!" "What?!" The Husband jumped. I got him twice already. "Stop scaring me," he whined in a fake scaredy-cat kid's voice, after he stopped laughing.  "Stop scaring me." Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I'm feeling loosely-goosely right now. Almost floating on air. It's the ibuprofen speaking.  I took one of them red pills a few minutes before I surprised the Husband the first time. "Boo!" I'd taken 3 of them before going to bed last night. "Boo!" I'm getting ready for a big OW! later on today. An endometrial biopsy. The doctor said it would hurt a little Hah! I know better. I've had two in the past several years. The second one was the worse and I had self-medicated myself before then. Let's just say two ibuprofen pills doesn't do it for me. The Husband said he could hear me from the waiting room. Until yesterday, I thought I was a wimp, a weenie, a baby for not having been able to

A glorious first day of Spring to you, dear Readers. It's overcast with the hope of more rain, rather than just sprinkles, in my neck of the woods today. Having a nice steady, but gentle on the fruit blossoms, beat of rain would be perfect for right now. Yesterday, the Mama sowed her bittermelon seeds in a pot. That means the time for the Husband and me to start preparing the Mama's veggie garden plots is very, very near. If the Mama still had her strength and endurance, everything would've been done a few weeks ago. That's okay though. She has been distracted with transplanting different flowers from elsewhere in her back and front yards to the one particular patch of ground that you see in the photo below. "I want all flowers here," she said."Lots of flowers." It's gonna look amazing.

Our local movie house offers a Wednesday series of independent films. They are the type of movies that if you live in a small city out in the boondocks you have to schlep over the hills or up the far-away freeway to a large nearby city. Yesterday was the first time the Husband and I took advantage of the series. Unfortunately, it was the theater's last offering. Who knows if, and when, it will offer another series. The movie was Hyde Park on Hudson , which was about the relationship between President Franklin D. Roosevelt and Daisy Suckley, a distant cousin. It was a good-size audience for the late afternoon screening—about 24 and 30—especially when you consider where we live.  We were all  uhem in the grey-haired age group. The Husband and I were probably among the youngest there. I whispered my observation to the Husband.  "I still think of myself as being in my 20s," he said. "I do, too. But, we're not." "I thought we were middle-age."

Garlic cloves all in a row—kinda. The Mama definitely has something-to-plant radar. This morning, I decided to plant the garlic cloves that were sprouting on the kitchen counter. I always wanted to grow garlic, just for the heck of it. Hmmm, I may have inherited the "mad horticulturist" genes from the Mama. Anyway, I put the chosen garlic in a yogurt container (which was probably the clue to the Mama that something was about to be planted) and put the container out on the back step. I would plant them after I picked some lemons. The lemon-picking task quickly created the additional task of pruning the branches that were touching the tops of the apple tree. To the Mama's delight, because that meant she'd have something fun to do in the garden. As I was walking by the Mama at one point of fetching pruning tools, she had this where-is-that-thing-I-wanted? look on her face. I thought it was the empty basket  for the lemons that I was holding, so I gave that t

Last week, I planted my first banana trees. That's another Doing 60 for me. The banana trees are transplants from the Mama's banana grove in another part of the yard. Click here to see where they originally stood. They were the clump on the far left side.  Usually, I dig out the banana trees and leave them for the Mama to replant. No more. Not that the Mama can't do it. But, why let her have all the fun, right? Besides, I need to increase my strength, if I want to keep up with her come veggie gardening time. The Mama supervised the job. I lugged them across the yard, one by one. In the photo, the banana trees look like they weigh nothing. Hah! The Mama marked the spots where she wanted them. And, I dug.  Ping! Rock. Ping! Another rock. Ping! Ping! I enjoyed the challenge of getting the rocks out. It was so much easier than sitting in front of the computer screen and trying to think of a word that would precisely describe what I needed to say in a sentence. P

I got out of bed singing "one toke over the line", but I was not channeling the guys who originally sang it. Rather, I was singing while thinking of the singers who sang it on the Lawrence Welk Show.  Mr. Welk described the song as a "modern spiritual".  Uh-huh. Yep. With that lively verse going over—and over—in my head, I decided that the agenda today is to put one foot in front of the other.  I speak metaphorically. Perhaps, though, I may just take a step out the door and go around the block. The Husband and I are going on a hike with some friends at the end of the month, so it would be a good idea to be a bit in shape for it. I'm counting the hike as one of my Doing 60 things. Doing 60 ?  That's what I've called the challenge that my dear friend Jenn gave me as I approach 60 years old at the end of 2013.  I've already done a few. Just haven't written about any of the them, until now. Last week, Jenn and several other young old fogey

Uh-hem. Back in October of 2012, a fellow blogger bestowed on me the Very Inspiring Blogger Award . Today, I shall complete the task for having accepted the reward. What can I say, I thought it was just yesterday. Well, at least I let my blogger friend— Widdershins —know pronto that I appreciated the honor. About the Award Blogger awards that we bestow upon fellow bloggers come with rules. Those rules often get modified as they make the rounds around the world, and that I shall do. These are the acceptance rules: 1. Thank the blogger who nominated you. Thanks again, Widdershins Worlds . 2. Place the award on your site. Done 3. Share 7 random things about you. You can read them below below. 4. Nominate 15 blogs. Let them know they've been nominated and how to accept the award.  There are many blogs that I read frequently, sporadically, or just once or twice. They all inspire me to write, to sew, to cook, to eat, to read, to exercise, to dream, and do many other things

The Daddy and I were both born in the Year of the Snake, according to the Chinese zodiac. Sssssssssss. 2013 is the year of the Snake . May it be a great run around the sun for us all! Today, I'm sharing an edited post that I published on February 25, 2011 on my former blog This and That. Here and There. Now, Sometimes Then. The post is about the day the Daddy died.  (That blog is still up if you're interested in reading other posts later.  Here's the link .) The Daddy died from a heart attack. He was 76 years old. Maybe he didn't pick how or where he died, but I think he was happy it wasn't at home where the Mama would've come home to find him after a long, tiring day at work. He was always protective of her. That day the Daddy decided to go to lunch at the senior center with his good friend Danny, one of the godfathers of mine. The Daddy hadn't been there for quite a long while. He hadn't been feeling well, but those last three days, I was

Molly the Cat aka Molly the Kitty Cat aka Miss Molly by Golly. These days, she's also known as Molly Girl. Last week was her first anniversary with the crew. We, humans, had no idea it would be such a pleasure to have a cat that lives indoors. We hope the sweetie pie is just as happy as we are about living together. Molly Girl plays no favorites. She adores the Husband. He is the one who plays with her before giving her dinner. She likes me because I am the human who mostly takes her outside to wander and offer her a snack at lunch time. And, she cherishes the Mama because this human massages her and gives Molly food to break her fast every morning. The Two Ladies Molly the Cat and Mama are so cute together. After a year, I see similarities between the two ladies. Both are picky eaters. Unless they feel ravenous or truly like the food in front of them, they'll leave just a little less than half on their plate. Will they eat the leftovers the next day? Ha! They l

Goooooooood Morning, Sunshine! Yesterday was a wonderful dark day of rain, rain, and a bit more rain. Something we definitely needed. Today is a bright, cheery day of sunshine, although cold and colder in the shadows. And, a head full of snow is on the mountains to the east . As for tomorrow—and the couple days later—with grace, it shall be raining again. Don't you just like how the Mama's pink daisies look with their shiny faces full of rain drops?

I am very fortunate that I have met not one, but two gentle men, both of whom I married. Of course, not at the same time. When I met the current husband,  I told him that I didn't date. I went on adventures, but not dates. I rarely dated before the first husband, so why begin then. But, today is not a story of either husband. Instead, my ramble is about the man who would not be my husband. He was the first—and last—man that the Mama and the Daddy dared try to match me with. Yes, I know. So old country. At least, they did not attempt to do an arranged marriage for me.  I was in my late 20s, an old age to still be unmarried, according to the old ways. I lived alone in San Francisco, over 100 miles from the parents, which were two other no-no's for young women. The man in question had a name that some women would think romantic. I thought it was just sappy. Other women would've described him as very dreamy. I saw him as looking superficially slick. One who would have n

  One of the last times I went to church with the Daddy was to a Good Friday service. The Mama scored big that day as she not only got the Daddy to go with her, but me. I don't know how she did it. Maybe I didn't even sulk as I drove them to church. More than likely I did daydream through the service. That is, until the Daddy caught my attention. It was a struggle for his old bones to do all the physical activity that takes place during a Catholic mass, especially at the longer Good Friday service. You stand, sit, and kneel a lot.  I don't think the Daddy realized he was protesting out loud. I still wonder if God and I were the only ones who heard him. Stand. Sit. Kneel. "Shit." Sit. Stand. Kneel. "Fuck." Kneel. Stand. "God damn." Sit. Stand. Sit. Kneel. "Shit. Fuck. God damn." The Husband loves this story. After all, what's not to like: An old man swears in church. How I miss the Daddy.

My birthday was a couple months of ago. It was a delightful day, spent wandering with the Husband. One of the many highlights of the day was a package from Jenn, a dear long-time friend. Many years ago we worked together in a community-based nonprofit in San Francisco. She  developed on-the-job-training jobs for at-risk youth, while I counseled them about staying in school. Jenn and I had a lot of fun moments within our serious ones. She could get me to do things I would not consider doing, such as buying a disco dress in all its femme fatal glory. Not just once, but twice. And, then there was that time we were walking back from some serious moment, talking about non-serious things as we passed by the panhandlers, street musicians, and the folks talking into objects before there were cellphones on Market Street. We stopped in front of a wig store and gazed at the display of gigantic Barbie doll heads sporting long and short hairdos. "I wonder how I'd look in a long blon

Molly the kitty Cat and I never know what we're going to see in the Mama's backyard. The other day, I shared with you the roses . Today, uhm,  the apple trees in their naked splendor.

Unless otherwise stated, all words and images © by Su-sieee! Mac Warning: It's graphic today. Leaking things. Under the car. Around the base of the toilet. Under the water heater.   Leaking bodies. From the gut. Norovirus. Postmenopausal bleeding. Aaaaaaaaaaaack. This will all stop. Eventually. Hopefully, sooner. Not later.

When we meet up with friends, they eventually ask about the Mama. They've come to expect a doozy of a response about the tiny, not-so-frail 90ish gardener.  For example, one time I replied:  We were gone 90 minutes to do errands. Only 90 minutes. Do you know what she did while we were away? She whacked off the tops of the banana plants. With her machete. Ba-dum-bump. Tishhhhhh. And then there was the time I got to tell our friends this story. We were gone most of the day. We came home to find that the Mama had pruned the apple tree next to the small shed. "Did you use the ladder?" I asked. "Only my small one," she said. "You'll have to prune the top. I couldn't reach the branches." I looked at the tree. I couldn't figure how she got the middle branches without climbing the taller ladder. "How did you get those middle branches?" "Oh," said the Mama. "I stood on the roof of the shed." Ba-dum-bump. Tis

The theme is still the inability to get started. That is, the brain of my mine.   Plutter... Pletter... Splutttttt... .The sounds that the brain of my mine has been making. So, on Saturday, I tried to jump start the brain of mine by snatching up the camera and going outside. Some of the Mama's roses are in bloom. Take that cold weather, they seem to say. And, yes, the roses, the snapping of photos, the doing of something creative seems to have sparked something in the brain of my mine. Of course, dear readers, I must share with you the Mama's roses. © 2013 Su-sieee! Mac . All rights reserved.

  The words unfold themselves in my head. The hands though won't jot them down on paper or key them onto a blank document. That's not an excuse. I have no excuse. The Daddy accepted no excuses from me when I was a kid. If I did something stupid, then I did something stupid. I suffered the consequences. I learned quite early what the consequences were so I did my best not to do stupid things—or, at least, not to get caught. For a man with a gentle voice, the  Daddy gave very stern scoldings. So stern that it brought on the tears. And, should I cry, the Daddy said, "No crying." The longer the crying, the harsher the scolding. The Daddy used his belt for the dumbest decision-making acts I did. One or two quick slaps on my legs. The sting of the leather brought on the tears, too. "No crying," the Daddy said. Sucking up the tears just gave me the hiccups. I only recall two instances when I got the Daddy's belt. Both times I was no where to be fo

It takes being disconnected to the Internet to get me to finally write a post. Go figure. Yesterday evening—around 5:03 p.m. to be approximate—the Husband came into the bedroom where Molly T.K. Cat and I were taking a snooze. Well, Molly napped while I clicked the TV remote in search of a show that would invite sleep for a few minutes.  (Lack of sleep was finally making me feel yucky, for lack of ability to think of precise words.) "The modem is dead," announced the Husband. I was promptly alert and in a state of panic. How was I going to finish my last two assignments? How was I going to send them to the editor? How was I going to . . . you get the picture. The Husband and I went instantly into troubleshooting mode. The husband went back to his computer to play a tetris game (which allows him to think he says), and I went searching for a phone book. I called the computer shop where we bought the last modem. Unfortunately, the shop just closed. Bummer. When something as vit