Fingerlickin’ Nonsense

This blog has not seen an update for a wee while. It’s because not much out of the “ordinary” has been happening in my temporarily-induced monastic life. From the outside one might be tempted to say that it’s one that seems listless or adrift, though I would fiercely dispute that without arming it with any defense. It’s just that my current nagging concerns are not for public consumption. Except to say maybe that pretty soon my eventual “resurrection” can be expected.

Anyway, though I had been able to muster some slack time at some point, time enough to put fingers on keyboard and start grinding inanities, still the appropriate subject(s) eluded my wandering ken.

Since I spend a good portion of my free time scouring the web for political news and blog posts, still I could not get myself to write commentaries on the piping-hot items cascading in the confusing worlds of media. There are tons of very experienced, savvy, and articulate bloggers out there churning out promptly their Aristotelian analyses of political news as they break. Even the countless and at times nameless commenters continue to share their precious nuggets of ideas into the mix making one’s head spin uncontrollably trying to accommodate and soak them in.

So one is prompted to exclaim: what could my puny mind add to the current slew of masterful discussions from clearly more qualified sources? I would say nothing much. I would only either be embarrassing myself or reduced to mouthing off ideas already beaten to death somewhere. So might as well stay off the topic, and be content playing the passive role of observer and learner. And that serves me fine.

But something has to be written. The US economy? Wall Street and Main Street issues? The fields are stacked with the brightest and most analytical minds to inhabit this world. One can only gape in awe at the parade of data and charts that daily floods our social consciousness.

But surely, there must be a topic where I can reign somewhat, because I could be considered the authority or expert of it, and maybe the only one disposed and available.

Given my circumstances, it would have to be something trivial. Something of little value and concern outside the confining premises of my own life.

Now I know! a layman look, or call it pseudo-analysis, on the fingers of my left hand which rather inadvertently went through a bad accident some six months ago, and which to this day continue to restrict the hand’s full function and flexibility.

Though the visible wounds are now completely healed, having seen the last of the scabs some 2 months ago, the hand is far from satisfactory operation. Typing with it is still a challenge, holding stuff with it tentative, and the skin around them seems tender and not as sensitive to the touch as before, or when compared with the other hand.

After consulting with two doctors, one focused on physical therapy and the other specialized in surgery, I have come to the inadvertent conclusion that the convenient path for me would be through some kind of physical therapy – but to be performed by me! Decided in no small measure after the latter doctor opined that if I had wanted my hand to be restored to full function I would have to undergo a procedure that involved kilometric incisions in my hand and fingers and many months of my time both for the procedures and recuperation.. To which I blurted out reflexively, no way.

I confess I went into those two sessions more or less decided on what I wanted to do with my situation and already armed with the possibilities. After all, I have had 6 months to think about it. And how can one miss a day, or any wakeful hour, not being reminded of the sorry situation when it stares back at you right in front of your very nose?

But I did learn something new and important enough. It concerns this stealthy and pernicious condition called bone arthritis, which comes unnoticed and starts residence in one’s joints; and which typically will remain unnoticed and untreated until pain is added into the equation. A condition that will begin to manifest its dominance as one advances in years, regular exercise notwithstanding.

In my case, the accident was the perfect storm that allowed both trauma and signs of arthritis to take over and do their thing. X-rays showed that in some finger joints, the bones have started to fuse limiting the fingers’ flexibility. Funny I said that this condition is duplicated in the small finger which was not involved in the accident. Blame arthritis solely for that.

An elder brother suffers from a more serious form of arthritis and gout. And again, almost all so suddenly. Caused by a sudden change in routines?

The Lemoncito Blooms In Tracy

Though arguably a native of the Philippines, the lemoncito (Sp. diminutive for lemon), or more popularly known in the Philippines as calamansi, does grow and fruit in temperate climates like in California.

The lemoncito is a shrub or a small tree known to grow as high as 3 to 6 meters and is better adapted to tropical areas. Known in the West as the calamondin, its scientific name is citrofortunella microcarpa. Aptly termed microcarpa because of the fruit’s small size, looking like a small orange orb when ripe.

Old childhood memories prodded one to transplant a growing lemoncito shrub from foggy Daly City to our new abode in sunblest Tracy, CA. Nostalgic recollection points one to childhood experiences where the fruit and its many uses figured prominently.

One such use could be classified as medicinal or therapeutic.

As I easily recall we were a family of nine kids, living in cramped quarters in the middle of a bustling city and whose young members were thus most prone to ordinary ailments children were heir to – colds, coughs, sore throats and other irritating EENT conditions.

Our ever resourceful doting mother was always ready with the concoction she called agridulce to treat those minor distractions. And preventatively dispensed with at times when the climes were ripe for them to visit us, like the rainy season, or the very humid nights spent inside our shuttered rooms curled inside our musty mosquito nets.

Agridulce, which is Spanish for sweet and sour, was blended from the juice of the lemoncito, with hot or tap water added, flavored with a liberal dose of sugar, and stirred with all the fruit’s pits swimming in the pale mixture. The fruit’s very sour taste blended well with sweet cane sugar, creditably acquitting its name of agridulce.

Our present lemoncito tree, which grows proudly side by side with a regular lemon tree, appears stunted in growth though abloom with fruits that are now ripening. I blame that on negligent maintenance, due to the long absence of the resident gardener, me.

Still I eagerly look forward to the day when I can harvest the lemoncito’s fruits and make me an agridulce.

Cheers.

Pictures Worth Three Thousand Words

Sarah Palin Stuns US Politics

Fresh from a revealing interview with Runner’s World which is accompanied by an impressive pictorial(many dainty desk-bound lady pundits and politicians would die for), Sarah stuns anew the political world and the kibitzing blogosphere with the unexpected announcement not only not to seek reelection as governor of Alaska, but to resign from her current term – effective within a few weeks.

Point guard Sarah Barracuda passes the ball to her trusty Lt. Governor.

Not one used to taking the beaten path this surprise move by Sarah, shrouded in a bit of mystery and vague in the actual reason(s) for its abruptness, has thrown the political “establishment” (from all sides) into a writing uproar. Memeorandum is hard at work cataloguing the items devoted to scrutinizing and analyzing this sudden turn of events.

Expectedly, the pointed pens of grossly obsessive detractors have been blindly thrusting at anything that moves – ranging from a rehashed rumor that an indictment is forthcoming against Sarah, to parsing and diagramming the written text of the rushed announcement.

But to date nobody can point a finger to what exactly is the reason(s) that prompted Sarah to make such a pivotal announcement on the eve of July 4th and the start of a slow-news weekend.

But wherever the chips may finally fall, as a supporter of Sarah we stand by her, because of what she stands for us.

More power to Sarah Palin.

Vignettes Of Life In A Busy Intersection (Cont.)

The Taho Vendor

Shouting out in baritone key as he passes along, this itinerant vendor makes his rounds in our busy intersection during mornings on the weekend. Above the din and when carefully cocking one’s ears in his direction, people can actually make out his shouts of taho!, the snack food product he is hawking.

Slung on one shoulder is a pole typically made of resilient bamboo where two stainless-steel deep and large-mouthed containers are balanced at its ends. One can contains the taho itself and the other the ingredients needed to complete this soupish snack food.

But what is taho?

Classified as one popular street food:

Tahô is a Philippine snack food made of fresh soft/silken tofu, arnibal (brown sugar and vanilla syrup), and pearl sago (similar to pearl tapioca).[2] This staple comfort food is a signature sweet and can be found all over the country. The Indonesian and Malaysian equivalent of this dish is Tahu.[3]

And tofu?

Tofu (豆腐), also tōfu (the Japanese Romaji spelling), doufu (the Chinese Pinyin spelling), toufu, or bean curd (the literal translation), is a food of Chinese origin,[1] made by coagulating soy milk, and then pressing the resulting curds into blocks. There are many different varieties of tofu, including fresh tofu and tofu that has been processed in some way. Tofu has very little flavor or smell on its own, so it can be used either in savory or sweet dishes, and is often seasoned or marinated to suit thedish.

This particular morning, the next door neighbors answered the sonorous vendor’s pleas and asked for two orders. One order is for 10 pesos, served in a smallish plastic cup.

The vendor settles his burden on the side of the street and opens both containers. With a scraper, he gently shaves small thin slices of the taho and layers them in the cup, adds the other ingredients and tops it off with a little pour of condensed milk from an opened can.

After repeating the routine and having received his payment, the pole balancing act is ready to hit the road, preceded by his baritone shouts.

BTW, our little conversation yielded the following snippet: that he himself does not prepare the stuff but is simply consigned to him by the maker. Too much time and trouble in the preparation, he reasoned out.

Taho!