Dear Autumn

It’s been so cold here the past two days that it’s as if we just shot directly into winter. It’s like a twisted Season Monopoly turn, where you’re stuck with that card that tells you to go to winter, go directly into winter, do not pass fall, and save that $200 for heating oil.

This has been one strange year, weather-wise. I’ve traveled out of the country twice, visiting places in different sides of the globe, all during their so-called summer season, only to be inundated with relentless rain both times. Even the summer here in the Northeast has been uncharacteristically rainy and cool. It was like summer never even existed. Friends who have lived in this area their entire life have all said that they can’t recall a summer like this. Ever.

Now, with the sudden cold air and early darkness, it seems like we might be skipping fall as well.

And so, because fall is too lovely a season to just breeze through, I thought I’d post this photo that I took this past “summer.” I love this shot because, well, for some reason (which I’m sure is probably silly and inaccurate), it looks like an autumn shot to me.

Dear Autumn,

You don’t know me, but I’m a big fan. Please don’t skip our neighborhood. Come and stay awhile. I’ll make you pumpkin spice coffee if you do.

But feel free to leave Ragweed home. He doesn’t have to come visit with you. Really.

Thank you.

Things

During my trip to the Philippines earlier this year, one of my most cherished moments was the day I spent the afternoon cooking with my beautiful Auntie Lou in her kitchen.

Auntie Lou is an amazing cook. When I showed up at her house, starving and waiting to be picked up by her daughters for lunch, she invited me to have a little bite to fight off the hunger. She apologized that all she had was leftovers, but I wasn’t complaining. Especially not when her leftovers look like this:

That ain’t meatloaf, darling. (Not that there’s anything wrong with meatloaf.) No, her leftover dish was shrimp sauteed in butter, olive oil, garlic, red peppers, maybe some wine in there … my stomach’s growling just thinking about it.

Auntie Lou was also the one who opened a whole new world of homemade yogurt, sweet lassis, and pandan-flavored simple syrup to me. (My inability to keep away from the lassi pitcher was also the reason I was too full to eat anything when we finally got to the Indian restaurant for lunch.) Her paella has effectively relegated all other paellas to “I guess I’ll settle for this if I can’t have Auntie Lou’s paella” status, and the recipes that she shared with me are so precious that I hand-carried them on my flight back. Oh yes, I put jewelry and vintage coins in my checked-in luggage, but her recipes? They were safely tucked inside my camera bag.

She also has amazing taste and a wonderful eye for decor, and no recipe—no matter how detailed—can ever teach me how to furnish and beautify my home the way she does.

Here is the study, done in a Mediterranean/Turkish theme. I swear, I don’t know how she does it. I wouldn’t even have thought of doing a Turkish theme if a turkey came and flew right at me screaming “HGTV!”

I don’t know about you, but I can almost smell the spices and feel the silk and rich fabrics. Never mind that I’ve never been to Turkey. Or the Mediterranean. (Or have HGTV.)

Here is a section of the living room that adjoins the terrace. It’s dark, so you can’t really see that the terrace leads into the backyard. But the next photo shows a better view of the backyard, which slopes down and leads into the pool about 15 or so feet below.

I almost did all my scuba pool sessions in that pool.

The thing I love most about this house is that, as beautiful as it is, you’re never afraid to touch anything. It’s as warm and inviting as can be, and everyone knows that the instant they enter the house. Notice the collection of bags thrown on top of the seats and tables.

Even the kids know that it’s a place where they can just hang, plug in their games, rest their feet on the furniture and rearrange couches so they can all see the screen.

Not even the grand piano is off limits, and it’s not unusual to hear the first tentative strains of Hot Cross Buns spiral down into some heavy-handed Chopsticks-Blue Moon mashup, followed by uncontrolled giggling.

It’s also the place where we were treated to an impromptu talent show/program by the kids. It was a night of song and dance and gymnastics and witty emcee spiels and commentaries.

Ah. Lovely, warm memories, indeed.

Just the other day, I found out from my uncle that the tragic floods caused by Typhoon Ondoy (Ketsana) in the Philippines brought 5 feet of dirty flood water through their home. This home. This lovely, warm, beautiful home.

I can’t wrap my brain around that. Five feet of water? That’s almost the height of my cousin below, the one in pink, who is about 5′4″.

And as bad as that sounds, they are merely grateful that they’re safe, alive, and that things are not as bad as they could have been. There are so many others who have lost far more, and my heart goes out to all of them. Some have nothing left but the shirts on their back, and others, not even that. Many have had to evacuate to their rooftops and wait to be rescued. Some subdivisions are still flooded as we speak. And yet, again and again, I see news clips of people who still have the strength to smile, to give of themselves to help others, and who, secure in the thought that things will eventually get better, simply roll up their sleeves and get down to the business of cleaning up and moving on.

Things are ultimately replaceable. Not people, and not their spirit. Calamity may case destruction, but in the long run, the things it destroys are overshadowed by the strength that it builds.

I do hope this portrait of Auntie Lou wasn’t destroyed, though. It’s one of my favorite things in her house.

An Indian wedding

I have been going nowhere with posting on this blog lately, it’s almost as if I were a giant spider who suddenly realized she’s in the middle of a mine field.

That sooo did not make sense.

Maybe I should just keep quiet and post photos instead. Like these shots from an Indian wedding we attended on our trip to Trinidad almost two months ago. Yes, it’s been that long. So long, it’s almost as if I were a a giant roll of dough in the hands of an expert noodle maker in China who—never mind.

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Aren’t the colors rich and vibrant? And look at those glittery things!

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Pretty, yes? And shiny, too! So shiny, it’s almost as if they were giant newly-minted coins coming off the presses with the light of a thousand suns bouncing off of them. Except, a thousand suns would probably melt the coins, as well as our eyeballs, so maybe instead of suns, it can be a thousand flourescen—never mind.

Excuse me while I go in search of my senses. They were apparently last seen wandering around the customs area of Newark airport, disoriented and hungry. They were so lost, it’s almost as if they were a giant … me.

Got tissue?

Okay, now this one? This Thai Pantene shampoo commercial?

It made me cry.

Wanna join me?

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(Ragweed season is upon us, so once again, I can blame allergies instead of a shampoo commercial. How convenient!)

Things have been crazy lately

You could almost say it’s like the rug was pulled from under my feet.

It’ll be back to normal in no time, I promise.

At least, as normal as I can get. Which, I guess, really doesn’t mean much.