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Showing posts with the label A Mama-ism

Sunday Show & Tell

Today's post is all about what's going on in two parts of the backyard. One part is the patio, of which first up are the strawberry plants that live in the red cooler. The original three plants gave us two or three yummy strawberries every few days or so from June to just recently. The plants also sent out more than a dozen runners. All, I hope, will provide us with more strawberries.


Back in June, I finally got brave and turned the Daddy's wheelbarrow from the 1960s into a succulents planter. Some succulents did okay, such as the red paddle plant, while others scorched to death. I've  determined that it's okay to pull out a shriveled succulent, as well as plop in another succulent on Wheelbarrow Plain. I keep remembering what Mama said, "If they grow, they grow."


The Husband and I have temporarily named the four distinct spaces in the backyard, from south to north, Avocado Room, Sunny Room, Shady Room, and Geranium Room. The last few days I have been pl…

A Good-Luck Jade Plant

The Mama's jade plant by the front door is in full bloom right now. It surprises me. I didn't think it would bloom in chilly weather. The Mama says that the jade plant is good luck and that a blooming jade planet is even luckier. I like that.


The Mama's Labor Day

"In the Philippines, it was Labor Day when Junior was born," recounts the Mama every year, as the holiday approaches. This year was no different. This year, I wondered if the Mama was being funny and has been waiting years for me to laugh at her joke.


From the Archives -- The Mama and Her Superstitions

Today is another archival post from my first blog, Cu'Pie Bird says Chirp. Chirp.

Superstitions (originally published Tuesday, October 9, 2007)
Today was originally supposed to be my mom's quarterly doctor's appointment, but because it would be falling on the ninth of the month, I had to change it. According to my mom, the ninth is a bad day to go anywhere, make critical decisions, just do anything important. Hence she reminds me that I should not be traveling, paying bills, or signing contracts on the ninth. 

However, this is in contradiction to an astrological article I once read that stated the ninth is a lucky day for Sagittarius. So whenever my mom tells me not to do something because it's the ninth, I tell her it's okay for me. But I do wonder whatever happened to her--or to an important adult in her life--on a ninth or on successive ninths that causes her to say the ninth is a bad day. After all isn't that how superstitions begin.

When I was a kid, I was rep…

R is for Rice

We usually have cooked rice in the refrigerator, ready to be heated as is or made into a fast and easy fried rice dish.

Rice is the one dish that the Mama usually makes. I'd rather cook it because hers comes out too dry. But, I let her prepare the rice because I think it makes her feel that she's contributing to cooking the meals. When I warm up the rice in the microwave, I just add a bit of water. So no big deal.

Twice a year, the Mama sees her eye doctor who always asks,"What's your secret for long life?"

"I eat rice," she tells him. "Eat rice for a long life. You don't get so many wrinkles."

I don't know about that.  But, hey, she is 93 years old.



The Mama's Cement Pond

Okay. It is a puddle of water on the patio cement floor. Water collects there when it rains or when the Mama waters her potted plants. Makes me wonder if the natural dip there may actually be over a spring. 'Tis the month of the Mama.

P.S. I'm participating in Weekend Reflections. Click here to see the photos of other participants.

A Millionaire Cat

August is the month of the Mama. Meaning? I plan to share some Mama love and Mama-isms with you over the next 31 days. (Not every day, of course.) Here's the first Mama-ism.


"Again," the Mama sighed.

"What?" I asked in alarm, as I stopped nearly halfway up the stairs. I tried to peek over the balustrade (yes, the balustrade), but couldn't see anything. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," she said from the living room. "It's Molly."

"What's wrong with Molly?"

"She's asleep. Again."

The Husband and I have explained many times that cats sleep a lot. They sleep after they've eaten. They sleep after they've played long and hard. They sleep when it's hot. They sleep when it's cold. They sleep when they darn well feel like it.

The Mama, however, does not accept it. Yet.

As I continued climbing the stairs, I heard Mama say, "Are you a millionaire, Molly? Are you a millionaire cat?&q…