Walking around downtown Summit, the Husband and I stopped by Edible Arrangements to pick up my mother-in-law’s birthday gift. He saw that it was right next to a dry cleaner and inquired if they can stitch on patches. The guy said yes.
Me: *looks at store hours* You can drop it off before you go to work.
Husband: Oh yeah.
Husband: *lays out gi and patch* It should go nicely here, right below the stitching at the back.
Me: I agree. And they open at 7 too, so you can drop it off in the morning.
Husband: Yeah, and pick it up on my way home.
Me: *sees gi on couch* Oh you’re attending jiu jitsu tonight?
Husband: No, I’m having the patch stitched on today.
Me: Okay. Drop it off before you go to work, so you can pick it up at lunch or on your way home.
Husband: Opo (Filipino for yes.)
When I get to the office…
Husband: Aw man. The dry cleaner is open at 7!
Me: I TOLD YOU.
Husband: I got here early too. Got breakfast and got to the parking lot 15 minutes early. I could have dropped it off.
Me: I KNOW. I TOLD YOU SO.
My first taste of spring was optimistic, to put it lightly. I was welcomed by Blizzard Jonas, and while my husband was slaving around shovelling snow, I was jumping in them. Spring, though, looked exactly how I pictured it: a true rebirth. Everything that was dull and grey suddenly became bright and green, full of life and bloom. So that only meant one thing: it was time to fire up the grill.
I meant it when I said that I miss my father’s cooking. A part of me always struggles to bring that to the table, whenever I cook for our family or for a gathering. In a way, I’m making sure that my father was not forgotten, and he was always known for being a good cook. He’s a mechanic by the way, like my husband, but when he starts working in the kitchen, he will blow you away.
My father always loved to grill… and I never liked it. I found it difficult tempering the fire (especially back in my country where we do it in coals), it was too hot to keep cooking (since our normal day temperature was at least 95ºF), the food either cooked too fast or too slow, and you always ended up smelling like smoke. But grilling was my father’s forte.
Imagine my joy when I heard from family members that my husband’s grilled pork belly tasted so closely to my father’s. Since moving here, I requested for that pork belly every other month or so, and he would make it the same way, and it would taste the same way. And it would always be perfect.
Each time there’d be a gathering here, I try to volunteer his cooking. Most of the time though, they’d request for it, just like when people requested my father to grill. I feel blessed and fortunate to have the past, the present and the future all existing in the person I chose to spend my life with.
In the movie This Means War, Chelsea Handler plays best friend to Reese Witherspoon who, after a major heartbreak, dove back to the dating pool and ended up with two amazing men to choose from. This is the best part of the movie. In a very rare opportunity, a chic flick dished out the realest and truest advice.
Twelve years ago today, he kissed me in their basement, just by the light switch. Vacationing without my best friend and sister Marga was something I was not so eager to do, but it lead me here today, living in the same house where that basement was.
Back then, all our pictures looked like we were the only two people in New Jersey. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone look at me the way he did. I was all he saw. And my eyes never left him.
It has been exactly 12 years. I bet no one saw this coming, not even him.
I have spent so much time revering poets and lyricists with their fantastic works of art and music, but today, I have to give it to fate and Le Mari because without him believing that we are destined to be together, I won’t believe it too.
It has been such a rollercoaster ride since he came back in my life. He came at a time when everything was at its wrong place, and I was losing faith. He helped me regain it, and I couldn’t be more thankful. Some may say that is an exaggeration, but only he and I would really know the truth of the matter.
And I’m so grateful that after all these years, we now have more pictures together. Better, we have family and friends with us too.
Being one of the most visited places in the world, those locks signify eternal love and has become one of the must stops for lovers the world over.
I bet this decision didn’t come as a surprise to Paris’ beloved patrons, especially when a portion of the bridge collapsed early last year because of the weight of the locks on the bridge.
I am happy though that Paris is finally taking a stronger stand in preserving its heritage. Pont des Artes is one of the bridges that cross the Seine.
What makes me even happier is that the saying “take a picture, it lasts longer” was something I took to heart when Le Beau and I visited that famous bridge.
We were planning going back on our fifth anniversary maybe and spot that lock but I guess that’s not going to happen now. But the beautiful thing is the bridge will be riddled with artwork from various international artists. Paris still stays true to its form as the art capital of the world. At least for me.
Oh I am so happy that we have proof that Paris knew we pledged our love forever.