Bread, Honey, and Paint

We have not made bread at home in a long time. The kind of bread we usually bake is heavy, multigrain, good for breakfast, not fluffy, and leaves a sensation of satisfaction when you eat it any time of the day. A toast from this bread goes well with butter and honey, but it is also great with a couple of fried eggs on top. You might not find this appetizing, but I do. Sometimes I put a slice of whichever cheese I find in the fridge, a slice of salami, and the eggs on top. Livia enjoys that kind of savory toast, but Raquel does not care; she is a waffle girl.

The recipe that we always use for making heavy-grain breakfast bread calls for honey, however, next to that line there is a note from Christina - "Use sugar instead". Her bread was always wonderful. The bread is now baking and I am waiting for the timer to go off to get it out of the oven and leave the loaf to cool overnight on a rack. I am looking forward to a slice!

Over the weekend I painted the window frame of the living room. It was an old overdue project of ours.

Before Christina was diagnosed with cancer we started to paint the inside of the home. She planned the job very carefully, taking pictures of the walls and discussing colors with me and a close friend of hers who is an interior decorator. I agreed to the color selection and Christina and I started painting. The new wall colors give a warm feeling to our home.

After the cancer diagnosis, the painting project had to be put on the back burner as we focused on her getting better.

In the summer of 2020, after she recovered from her first surgery and finished her chemotherapy and radiation, we continued the renovation and finished all the walls except the living room window frame. It is done now. I stand in front of the window to admire the result and hear Christina's voice - "It looks great Jose, thanks for finishing".

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It's been a Long Time Since I've Seen Her

To our daughters; I learned so much from your mother! She was my lover and my bosom friend. The summer of 1992 was running in earnest and Mom and I were escaping every day to many different places around the mainland. We were having the time of our lives! At the end of the summer, I did not have a penny left but was the happiest man alive! Mom had a white 1989 Chevrolet Cavalier station wagon. Her car smelled like a wet dog, Sam, her dog, was the main passenger before she met me. That car would break down every 100 kilometers or so and would run out of gas as soon as the gas red light went on, and guess who had to push; your Dad! But, we were like peas and carrots and as happy as they came. You always tell me - " Dad, you know strange old words and expressions no one uses these days! " Your mom is responsible for that! I learned what a "Sea Shanty" is in that white Cavalier listening to CBC radio. The station had a show on sailors and fishermen and how po

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Today, completely out of the blue, I remembered a story from my childhood. In my neighborhood, there was a child whom everyone called "Buchee". This fellow was a lot older than me, about three or four years older. Therefore, if I recall correctly he must have been a young teenager when these events happened. Buchee lived near my maternal grandparents, who lived two blocks from where I lived. Every time I visited my grandparents I had to walk by Buchee's house and we would exchange hellos and sometimes we would tease each other lightly, nothing offensive. I would visit my grandparents daily after school therefore I would walk the distance every day and most days Buchee and I would exchange friendly words. One evening a group of children, including me, were playing cards on the sidewalk, a few doors from my grandparents. These games could be very competitive and the currency used at that time was crystal marbles. At some point, the stakes were very high and the poo

Dear Love

Dear Love, Forgive me, it has been a while since I have written to you. It is not for the lack of news; home is buzzing with events typical of growing pains and gaining experience. For me, it is just about missing your hands, warm body, your words; missing planning something to do together. I must admit, you always had the best ideas. Recently I became a Master Chef , but not the kind of chef popular among all ages; oh, no! I cook your dishes, daring, adventurous, and full of flavor! I set the table and see you on your chair , right opposite to mine displaying my favorite smile, approving the dinner. I remember when you made Spaghetti Tomato Bassilic for the first time. You thought that I was not going to like it. Boy, were you in for a surprise! It became my favorite dinner! You made it for me. What a treat! Oh, Christina, you were the wife I always wanted to have! The fact that we found each other made me feel very special. We worked hard to be together and celebrated

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