Clang, clang, clang with my right hand. Clang, clang, clang with my left hand. Repeat and repeat. Then repeat again. And, again.   It always amazes me how I can get soft peaks of meringue just by beating egg whites. I'm sure there's a simple, straightforward explanation for the transformation, and maybe one day I will really want to know. Until then, I'm perfectly happy, making clang, clang noises with the egg beater against the stainless steel pan as the clear egg whites change to foam, to thicker, clingy foam, and finally to meringue. It's magic. Olé! Click   here  to find other A to Z challenge participants.

My  ABC Wednesday   theme:  The Mama and Her Authentic Green Thumbs. . .and Fingers Those white blossoms may one day produce Asian pears for us. The tree had quite a lot of blossoms this year, but then we had a couple days of rain. The rain was wonderful for us, since we're in a drought, but not so much for the blossoms. So we shall see. Look in the background and you can see some clusters of buds of the avocado tree. If they all wake and do their thing, we're going to have a huge crop this year. What else is new in the Mama's garden? This past week, she planted long beans and some other kinds of beans, which I can't recall. She says that sometime soon she'll plant green beans. Yup. We like our fresh beans. Seeds that the mama dropped into the soil a few weeks ago have popped up. These are parda plants. I have no idea what the English word is for parda . Not even sure if I'm spelling the Ilocano word correctly. It's a kind of bean that look

Whenever I visited the parents, and then later only the Mama, I was sent home with a care package. Lots of fresh vegetables and fruit from the garden, as well as freezer bags full of cooked rice, lumpia, pork adobo, fried chicken, and bibingka. Whether I was single or married, living alone or with roommates, food always came home with me. Much of the vegetables and fruits were given away to neighbors and friends. The cooked food went into the freezer and eventually most were eaten by friends, spouse, and myself. In my 20s, I said to the Mama, "No, no, that's too much."  In my 30s, I sighed and just accepted the food. In my 40s, I appreciated everything that she picked in her garden and cooked in her kitchen. In my 50s, the Husband and I were living with the Mama. If we had not, I'm very sure that when we visited the Mama, she would've given us lots of food to take home. And, now that I'm in my 60s, I realize that the Mama was sending her love ho

"Maybe Molly needs a table," said the Mama, eying the barely touched breakfast plate of food on the floor. "She wouldn't be able to reach her food," I said, envisioning Molly the Cat sitting at a little kid's table. "She has too bend so low to eat," Mama said. Molly the Cat circled her plate, sniffed it, and walked away. Molly had to have been hungry. She tried to climb on my calves (yeah, I have big calves) while I was spooning her food onto her plate, which was her sign of saying "Hurry up, Human!" I set the plate down. She took a few bites and walked away. She'd been doing that for a couple of days. Maybe the Mama was onto something. I went into the hallway where a whole bunch of nothing rested and found a cardboard carton to hold take-out coffee. It was the perfect size for the plate to rest on. So, I tried it. "Come here, Molly." Molly approached her breakfast. She sniffed her makeshift table. She sat dow

Molly said, "Take a rest from words." "May I post more photos of you then?" I asked. She shrugged and walked away. I take that to mean she's okay about it.