Kitch Witch Diaries: My Favorite Dish

There is always a first time. The right amount of love and an overdose of encouragement.

On my toes by 7 AM. By 9 AM, this gYpsy going craZy cooking pakbet.

A documentation of this journey ...

I love my honey!
By Irma S. Vanta (Albums) · Updated 22 hours ago · Taken at 30 years deep deep in my heart
All about Us.
30 Years and beyond.
Me and My Honey.
MAGIC!



my lavander door unlocked


light and rest



Bruised Water



coffee



After 41 years and 2 months.
A sweet, spolied brat's first dish.
Pakbet for my Honey.

sweet honey

fields of daffodils and
sweet gusts of lavender and
handfuls of pansies:
let's make daisy chains*










*raspberry pancakes

Puppies

Ganun pala talaga minsan. Paikot ikot man. In full circle. 360 degrees and back. One day you will find yourself in the same spot, exactly where you left at, face to face, with that same person.

Love like that so pure and innocent, transcended time and space. Such a beautiful memory of my childhood.

Just like that it brushed off those nightmares, and I was transported to a much happy, peaceful world.

We’re putting aside the last 30 years. What’s important is each day we try to make a memory of our own until the next 30 years and counting.

We’re both giving this a chance, sayang naman.

Two days, and I can’t wait.

Signed, sealed, delivered

Speeding away from office with tremors in my heart. Paid a complete stranger for something that I already know :( I actually call that masochism! Getting lost in Katipunan. Starbucks and Rustan’s. ‘Shook hands and mine was “yellow”, stiff and trembling. I immediately excused myself to get some comfort. I went and ordered my signature hot choc’late, tall. And one bottled water, cold. The weather was humid. The rain was a bit undecided. A fresh and crispy deck. “Excuse me, I don’t play poker. :) … but I do solitaire online from time to time :). The explains the handicap :)

Second person singular.

Your future and the good seed in you. A checklist of you. Those gifts. Your love for people, of people. It gives you both pleasure and pain. Your balanced judgment. Your organizational skills. Your brand of leadership a little out of the box :). Very very soon, you will have to say your piece. No matter what, say it anyway. It will pay off. You adore your pragmatism and hardly use your intuition. No need to strike a balance, just use the latter when you feel so close to it. A brief lesson on control and “self care”. (Not my turn yet, that night, that particular moment of the night, I was the world’s most attentive, jumpy listener whoooaaaa. My throat was running dry. Hiccups attack at its worst. :( Where was cigarette when I badly needed one :). )

Five.

Sophie can make a good lawyer if she wants to. Just make sure that she does not inherit her mother’s high dosage of pragmatism, and her mother’s inability to recognize and use her instincts.

Another child with the right person (cloud 9-the moment –feeling … I felt like a very useful, “children bearing kind of woman hahahah … that made me really really swoon). BTW, that person he calls “For Keeps”. :)

Positive. The culprit. Prying at your own circle. The walls have ears. You wear blue, the culprit, too. Hoping to outshine you. Take an extra precaution. It can’t kill you but it definitely can hurt you (and your closest of kith and kin). The culprit is reading you. Don't stop writing.

And yes, you can be with him but why, what for. You have already decided on this. For once, you used and followed your instincts. You knew then where it was heading. Romance, apologies, or all the sweet words are no good. They do not mean anything. You left because you know how it is going to end. This is a person who is neither half empty nor half full. But there is nothing there but an empty glass. Your intuition told you that 3 years ago, so you left. That is how it’s going to end. You know that from the beginning, since day 1 after that one summer night 6 years back. It was your intuition working that time you made those careful choices, those few times you used you intuition, even when you didn't know it, intuition was right.

… … … …

Nearing closing time … another attempt and an apology for my stubbornness and persistence. It was like a silent prayer, a covert wish … a talk, taking off where we left off, and forgiveness, friendship and new beginnings, sweet eventually :) … … …


and this was Rob's answer to that ...

… … a man with fire, ambitious, funny, fun. Your match. Your last. The One. You deserve. Very soon. New. When he comes to you, do give him a chance, will you?

You’re not alone. You’re not lonely. It is the sadness that’s been causing the nightmares. Sadness from being violated may be by some people you once called friends, and with the consent of that very person you still deeply care about.

The sadness will stop. Get your suitcase. You’re leaving again. Follow the wind. The wind is taking you.



Postscript*
I was on that train, on those tracks, at that escalator when I was closed to outburst, I tried to stop breathing for a moment, when i felt that black hole in my tummy again, and that familiar stab ripping off my chest.

... then the "man with fire" ... I can feel me smiling ... just like that, he already makes me smile ... that man with fire.

drunk punch love

It does not account to wisdom. Depending on the purpose, it can be extremely pompous. But hey, this is still one beautiful world to live in. We have a fair, just and faithful God. A power greater than anyone of us. Having said that, I think it won't hurt if we believe in something. That no matter how corrupt some souls have become, this new endeavor is not empty and futile. Let it be that this whole new experience makes them better persons, more virtuous, useful, responsible individuals, bureaucrats.

To me it's all simple. That piece of paper parang make-up lang yan ... lipstick, eye liner, mascara, lash curler, foundation, concealer, blush on. An invention always meant to augment, to improve. Never to destroy, or magnify or worsen.

Wisdom is a product of common sense and conscience. Simple? Yes. Easy? No. We all know that, this kind of sense is not very common after all :) ... and Jiminy Cricket can kill you instantly without mercy striking like a sharp bolt of lightning.

So my friend, as agreed, education does not account to wisdom. It only makes us "not socially deviant". Compliant. Right now, I'd call that a fad ... like your laptops, Samsung Tablet ;), Ipod, Androids? :) ... and yes even, drinking buds, sooo fleeting :(. See now ...



postcript***
found 'em, grabbed 'em. altared 'em. thank you :). antics :) fables : cartoonized :) drunkeness :) ... you made my eyes green, my friend ... i should have been the one putting that life vest on him :) darnnnn ... and pull him out of the water after that fall from his kayak :)

all about Chuck

Charlie Brown Person Poem

I'm known as wishy washy,
And I know my stomach's a bit squashy,
I have small dotted eyes,
And I don't know how to tie ties.

I tried to be a ghost for Halloween,
But I looked like a screen,
I got all rocks,
Pigpen thought he was as sly as a fox.

My baseball team looses,
We always have to make excuses,
Lucy doesn't stay in right field,
Her mouth needs to be sealed.

Advice only costs a nickel,
5¢ per mood - fickle,
Lucy never gives advice,
She just collects the price.

They say I'm a blockhead,
Sometimes I wish I were dead,
Lucy's worse,
But she'll pull my hearse.

I've always loved that girl,
The one with red haired whirl,
I wanted to ask her to dance,
But Snoopy stole my chance.

Sally is my sister,
She can be much like a blister,
She loves Linus,
She thinks he's just full of shyness.

Wishy washy, you should not be,
In the same way at least as me,
Never let your spirit die,
And don't ever lie.

♥♥♥

Peanuts Love

You are my Charlie Brown
And I, your Peppermint Patty.
"You kinda like me don't ya, Chuck?"
I ask, you always reply, "Good Grief."
I am your Lucy, my heroic Schroeder.
As your number one fan,
I sit forever at the end of your piano.
I admire you, you reply, "Good Grief."
In my heart, you are the fair Linus
To my Sally. I want to be
The blanket that you hold so close.
You are my sweet baboo, you scream, "Good Grief!"
Oh, my Charlie Brown
How I wish I were
The little redheaded girl
That holds your heart, unknowingly.

♥♥♥

You're such a good man, Charlie Brown.

You're such a good man Charlie Brown.
Thats why folks like having you around.
Don't listen to Lucy; She'll get you down.
She'll raise that football off the ground.
You're a blockhead with a head so round?
Trust Lucy even on the pitcher's mound?
Lucy's advice really isn't all that sound.
I would think twice; Others can be found.
There is no need to leave your small town.
You're such a good man Charlie Brown.

♥♥♥

Stop Dating Psychos, Charlie Brown


There I was, having a night out
I saw you were different,
we discussed it over coffee.
Cute, fiesty, and a sense of humor.
I could relate.
All I did for four months was act to supress your white-hot rage.
Stop dating psychos, Charlie Brown.
I'm sorry your childhood sucked, so did mine.
I'm sorry you're addicted to coricidin, I really am.
But your art scares me.
I, myself, am "outside the box"
But do you really need to sit there in stony silence?
To run off and sulk like an old, passive-agressive goat?
Stop dating psychos, Charlie Brown!
I don't need to know about you.
I don't need to see your pain.
Do I really need to ask if you're a nazi sympathizer?
Do I really need to know if you, in the slightest way, are capable of interacting with another human being on a positive level?
Stop dating psychos, Charlie Brown.
Go off, and do your own thing.
I'll be right here, doing mine.
Go off, and stew in bitter rage.
I'll be fine.
What you've told me with your actions, what you've exposed to me with your life, is one tiny pearl of truth:
Stop dating psychos, Charlie Brown.

♥♥♥

Damn You, Charlie Brown

From the site As the moon climnbs by Velreir Valdes
I am tired of being coy.
Every time I convince you to kick the football
I convince myself that I will let you.
Somewhere between the last quick footsteps
before you reach me kneeling in the grass,
I change my mind. You fall again.
Watching you lie on the ground, I want
to help you up, or throw myself on you,
let my dark curly hair fall onto your face,
kiss your bare round head.
Instead I set up a sign scrawled in marker,
charge a nickel to tell you
how stupid you are, wearing the same yellow shirt
every day for as long as I’ve known you,
obsessed with a red-haired girl
who doesn’t know you’re alive. No matter
how much I batter your self esteem,
you never seek consolation in my arms.
Don’t you know anything about women?
I even pretend I’m in love with someone else,
a musician; you should be jealous of his talent—
your dog hovers around his piano
probably more than he bothers with you.
He has much more hair, this guy,
and it’s blond. His hands are strong,
he would never try to kick my football
over and over again—they say insanity
is repeating the same behavior expecting a different outcome.
Whoever they are, they must have seen you
playing baseball every spring, haunting
the pitcher’s mound like some demented ghost,
losing forty to nothing or worse,
watching ball after ball fly
far beyond your meager grasp—
me in the outfield, shouting, waving my arms,
waiting for you to notice me.

♥♥♥

The Untold Story of Charles Brown
and the Girl with the Red Hair

What's wrong, Charles
The girl with red hair asked as she sat on the bench next to him
And opened her lunch.

It has been a rough week
Charles began.
Linus has a tumor - Sally's been sick.
Lucy has been too busy with Schroeder to set up her psychiatrist stand
When I finally needed it.
I can't understand the grownups.
Or grownup problems.

She took his hand, and they lay down on the grass.
And the little red haired girl just held him.

And they drifted off to sleep.

Charles concentrated on the rhythmic tickle of her breath on the back of his neck
And the years of yearning that had been bottled up
Bubbled and churned and swirled. But-
Chalking it up to heartburn-
He slid beyond the waking world and dreamed.

He felt the innocent brush of her lips on his
And believed he was still dreaming.
The world around him exploded.
His cares, thrown from his mind
Like a half-eaten tuna sandwich,
His Nostrils burned with the scent of her
And dolphin safe fish.
And night rose, and pressed its cold wet nose against the two, and they drew closer,
Huddled together under the safety of Linus' blanket.
And the little red haired girl just held him.

In the morning, Woodstock sang,
and the dog flew his house to World War One Germany
And the little red haired girl was gone-
And Charles finally knew what "Good Grief" was.



*** may be that teeny weeny envy feeling on Bok's Charlie Brown mouse which came with her new notebook (which she bought last night) ... or that slight sensational blushing from yesterday's MMS in real time ;), TWO! Uploading them later at FB altar :) together with that snapshot from CMPC planning. :) Or baby is it the cold, breezy Wednesday rain?

And may be that arresting discussion on .... jeeezzzzz ... a new wheel huh ... an old wheel, old wheels and new rolling wheel ... wheel!

Judgment Day!

“One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. "Which road do I take?" she asked. "Where do you want to go?" was his response. "I don't know," Alice answered. "Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter.” ... Bok, this one's for your occasional BFF ;) ... jusz tell him,

"No sweat. It doesn't really matter, anyway. " ;)

In life there are three things you don't hesitate on, 1) the genuinely important or urgent or both 2) what is right 3) love


Good grief!