Flip Flop Christmas

It's raining, and has been all day.  That's OK...we need it here in Pensacola.  There is plenty of good food to keep us warm and in the house today.  Lots of left over Christmas turkey.  Precisely why turkey and dumplings was planned and prepared for dinner tonight.

I started putting the meal together this morning by stripping the turkey meat from the bones, then cooking the carcass sans meat, slowly to arrive at a condensed dark brown consomme.  By 3 p.m. it was perfect.  Next a mirapois of carrots, onion and celery were added, and finally, carefully rolled home made dumplings were dropped into the bubbling pot of goodness.  Now the turkey meat was introduced into the broth.  By 6 p.m. it was done.
That's when it happened.  My wife who has been 'under the weather' and napping most of the day said, "I feel like pizza."
You think a protest from me would be in order, but oh no.  I've been married too long for that.  'That dog don't hunt' is how it would be said where I come from.  "I'll go to Pizza Hut honey!"  There, I said it.  Simple, quick, albeit somewhat painful.  I mean the meal I prepared...the rain!  Hey, wait a minute.  If I go out to Pizza Hut I can wear my new Christmas flip flops!  There are flip flops, and then there are cool flip flops.
So out in the rain and the chill and the dark to Pizza Hut I go.  I started singing this to the tune of 'Over the River and Through the Woods to Grandmother's house we go.  There we go, I'm in the Christmas spirit once again.  When I arrived at Pizza Hut I ordered her favorite, 'Super Supreme pan pizza.'  That's when it happened for the second time in less than an hour.  "I'm sorry Sir, we are all out of pan pizza."
I didn't let 5 seconds pass, and then asked, "You do serve beer here don't you?"  After an affirmative nod from the pimple faced boy behind the counter I asked him to bring me 2 drafts and set them down next to me at the PacMan machine situated by the door.
Forty minutes and several quarters later I remembered  why I took up this holy mission to Pizza Hut in the first place.  I drained the last few swallows from my pilsner glass and immediately began formulating an excuse for coming home late without that pizza pie.
Luckily for me a McDonalds was en-route on my way back home, and surprisingly it still has McRib on the menu.  My wife and McRib go way back.  Picking up that pork patty would be my ticket to freedom!
I arrived home an hour later with no pizza.  The inquisition began.
"Where have you been?"  "You smell like pizza."  "Do I smell beer?"  It's funny how these statements always seem to run together without giving you time to even explain things.  After a few more direct all knowing indictments I took a deep breath and said, "Well you see...I know how much you love the McRib.  Unfortunately, McDonalds has a new pizza burger that just came out.  It's making it's debut tonight.  Such a line of people to buy one too.  It's crazy baby!  The whole place smells of pizza."
I'll be eating SPAM for the next few days.  Oh...I did tell you I got a new pair of flip flops for Christmas didn't I?

My Choosing

I’m flying my flag on Christmas day,

and let me tell you why.

The reason is because I can…

So let Old Glory fly!

It’s a gift to me from those who served…

for those who stood the line.

A gift I proudly fly with pride,

for those who fought and died.

The stars and stripes on Christmas day

will fly so high and proud.

So when you pass on Twin Lakes Lane

shout “Freedom” strong and loud!

So Santa, if you lose your way

as Pensacola passes south,

just look out for Old Glory

to guide you to my house.

Thankful I can celebrate the birth of Christ which is my choosing.  God Bless us all.

Twelve Things I Learned in 2011

Dont' tell me about your 'Prostrate', until you learn to spell it correctly.  And then don't tell me about it until you are at least fifty years old.  I don't want to know.

You can't drink three beers without excusing yourself to the bathroom.  

Don't hold grudges.  Please don't.  People get older, some get sick, some die.  If you are mad, just let it go.  You'll be a better person for it.

Karma lives and is at your door.  If it's good let it in.  If it's not, it will bite you in the ass.

Be a child with a child.  You know you want to.

Suck your stomach in when you go to Walmart.  There are too many people who don't.  Someone will thank you for it.

A good morning kiss will set the pace for the rest of the day.  If your significant other isn't going to initiate it, then it's up to you.

Begin the day with a prayer to God.

Give to those less fortunate even if it's only a smile.

Be true to yourself first.

Do not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do.

Yes, Virginia...there is...keep it going.  

Crossing to Benzaitendo

Benzaitendo is a temple named after the Hindu goddess Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge, music, and creative arts.

I had the opportunity while living in Okinawa and then again visiting Okinawa in 2011 to visit the temple.
The temple was built in 1502, and houses ancient manuscripts gifted by the King of Korea to the King of the Ryukyuan Islands.
I hope you enjoy the picture and the accompanying poetry.

Crossing to Benzaitendo

A leap of faith, a step of hope,

crossing to Benzaitendo.

A traverse of an ancient moat

along a bridge of stone I go.

In search of bygone manuscripts

gifted from a long dead king.

The words were whispered from his lips.

“Behold the truth” an angel sings.

What secret will the words unveil?

Will I return a different man?

My eyes will see, my mouth will tell

the  mystery of this ancient land.

In the center of the temple

lay the book upon a stone,

it’s binding frayed and simple,

it’s pages brown and over-worn.

As I read aloud with every breath,

the words passed down spoke loud and clear;

the joy of love, the pain of death,

the knowledge of five thousand years.

The wisdom of the erudite king,

to follow in his righteous plan.

It’s love, it's trust, it's everything. 

It's how we treat our fellow man.

A choice to make, yes you must know,

to do your best and lend a hand.  

Crossing to Benziatendo…

my journey to a foreign land.

A Gift From Angkor Wat

A simple Buddhist pendant to wear around my neck is a small part of this blog.  I have requested it from my sister who is in Cambodia.  Her destination is Angkor Wat, once a Hindu temple built within a city, and then later a Buddhist temple.  Angkor Wat is the largest religious building in the world.  A temple of the highest order, a religious mecca.  From this temple a simple Buddhist pendant lays wait with my name upon it.  That's the small part of this story.

The larger chapter of this story is my journey into Buddhism.  The steps along the way for me personally to remember and live within the moment.  To remember to breathe and exhale with purpose, and to pay it forward.  I constantly remind myself to live in the present.  The past cannot be changed, and the future is not to worry over, as only the present will guide my steps into the future.

A cup of tea, a clear mind, and living my life in a way that is beneficial to myself and the universe is my choosing.  That is the larger chapter in my life.  How many chapters I have left is unimportant.  If asked what Zen is, I will reply Zen is now.  Zen is the coolness of the air I breathe in.  Zen is the warmth of the air as I breathe out.  

The Buddha will travel a long distance to find my necklace, his new home.  My wish is that he is happy with me, and I with him.

A poem perhaps to reflect upon and close my blog for tonight.

The Nothingness of Tea

Now is all I have

as tea is in the making

unimportant past and future

leave me recalling Zen

Quietly exhaling the day in to air

no words need be spoken

between friends

who met by chance

The tea cup offered

thick green froth

steaming hot

rejuvenating my soul

Bittersweet warmth

kindness between friends

I realize

now is all I have

Sentient

A butterfly visited me this morning by the pool. He stopped long enough to let me take his picture, then I gently cupped him in my hands and released him from the enclosed pool.  I think he was tired because he didn't resist his capture.  As he flew away he looked beautiful against the blue sky.  Our host, my sister in law who is a devout buddhist, heard about my encounter and was happy to learn I released him.  "Something good will come of this," she said.

El Barrio

My name is Maria Marisol Fuentes. I am fifteen years old, well almost. I'll be fifteen next month. My home is New York City, El Barrio. You may know it best as Spanish Harlem. If you haven't already guessed, I'm Puerto Rican. This is my story.
I dropped out of public school when I was twelve years old and started work in a garment factory located on East 113th Street. I live with my Papa, an unemployed alcoholic. My Mama left us two years ago, and I have not heard from her since. The money I earn at the factory helps pay rent for our tiny apartment on Marin Boulevard. Each day that passes, I find myself more depressed and resigned to the idea that I will live and die in the barrio. I want more, and I have a plan to get out, but I will need help.
"It's 6:47 am, I need to walk faster. I've got to clock in by 7:00 am. I can't be late again!" As I made my way down Marin Boulevard, turning South on 2nd Avenue, and then arriving at the factory on 113th street, my feet ached from the fast pace I set walking into work. I thought, I've got to buy some new shoes as I grabbed my time slip and shoved it into the clock. "Ahh, 6:59, I made it!" Still too close for comfort, I thought. As I took my position at my sewing machine my body switched to autopilot while my mind took me to faraway places, like Florida... maybe Puerto Rico. San Juan would be so beautiful this time of year. Anywhere away from this dreary existence that I call home.
So as soon as my shift would begin, it would end. My fingers always ached from the endless repetitious task of attaching collars to the endless supply of shirts that would be pushed my way by the team of seamstresses. I had a quota of one thousand shirts a day. Within two months on the job I could not only meet one thousand shirts a day, but I could surpass that quota by another thousand shirts. I was paid three cents per shirt over my quota. So on a typical day I could earn an extra thirty dollars. To me that was my ticket out of the barrio. I didn't tell Papa about the bonus money. If he knew about it, he would drink it up within a week or two. Yes, my money was safely hidden beneath the floorboard of my bedroom. The money I have saved over the past two years now totaled exactly $15,200. When I find a way to leave Papa and the barrio, I will be gone....just like Mama.
I know my story sounds so dark and hopeless, but there are bright spots in my day. There is a young man at the factory who has been asking about me. He smiles at me, and spoke to me last week. He said "Hola Maria. Mi nombre es Tito Vázquez ." Since then I have learned that he has asked a lot of questions about me. I also have asked about him. I know he is twenty one years old, drives a nice car, and works in quality control at the factory. I also found out that he thinks I am pretty, and wants to ask me out on a date. The older Puerto Rican ladies in the factory are telling me to stay away from him. "He's a playboy," they say. "He's no good...you'll only get hurt" But I like him and if he asks I will go out with him. Although I am fourteen, I have yet to go on a date, or even have a boyfriend, so Tito and his attention intrigued me. I thought possibly I would have a way out of the barrio.
A week later while I was at lunch, Tito sat at my table and asked me on a date. "You know Maria, I was thinking it would be nice to see a movie with you, or if you want to go for coffee we could do that. If you are interested, that is." I thought for only a minute and agreed to meet him. Not at my apartment, but at the corner of Marin and Second Avenue. Tito agree, and told me to watch for a candy apple red Porsche 911. "I'll pick you up at 7pm Maria, watch for me OK?"
That evening before our date I pulled up the floorboard to my bedroom hiding spot and took all $15,200 and stuffed it into an oversized purse. I packed an extra set of clothes. My Papa was passed out on the sofa in the living room. I bent down and kissed him on his forehead and whispered "Goodbye Papa". I knew that when I left the room and closed the door behind me that I would never be back, and would never see Papa again.
Tito pulled up in the Porsche at 7pm. He got out and opened the door for me to get into the passenger side. "Tito, do you believe in God?" "Si, Maria...I do believe. Why do you ask me this?" I opened the bag and showed Tito the money.
"Let's get the hell out of this city," I said. Tito replied, "Si mi amor, si. You should buckle up, I have a very fast car."