Otherwise known as Duck Duck Goose (DDG).  If you’re from Knoxville or nearby, you’re probably quite familiar with DDG and my guess is that you’re either horrified by the thought of it or just absolutely love everything about it.  I happen to be amongst the latter, mainly because I don’t really mind waiting in a long line for a twice-a-year event in which we purchase the bulk, if not all of our little boy’s clothing and toys (save from some hand-me-downs from a dear friend’s family in town).  I get it if the thought of DDG makes you cringe – a hundred kids crying/chattering/running all at the same time, a really long line to the cashiers no matter the time of day,  and the usual presence of some ornery shoppers.  But the thrill of finding clothes for my little boy that’s almost brand new, in some cases new with the tags still attached, not to mention the really good deals from each piece makes up for all the inconvenience.  But…that’s me.

By the way, if you haven’t yet caught what DDG is about, it’s a consignment sale with thousands of consignees from the Knoxville area.  It’s more than just your regular garage sale stuff – it literally occupies what used to be a KMart shopping center with items ranging from maternity clothes to kids clothes from infants through teens, nursery furniture, books/CDs/DVDs, strollers and carriers, shoes, bedding, etc.  It’s every frugal person’s paradise, might I say, although there were some unreasonably high price tags for some of the toys I spotted this year – really, who’s going to buy a second-hand $150 ride-on train?.  The best part is that the last day of sale is called a half-off sale.  Everything unmarked in the store is half off and quite frankly, you get more mileage for your money on this day than on the others, and you can duck the long line either by hitting the store at opening or donating $10 to DDG for their version of a speed pass.

Some years back, I remember my Aunt saying to me that she’s very grateful her daughters were beneficiaries of some of my kid clothes.  In fact, she said, all four of her daughters had used a dress she’s very fond of that I once owned.  I never really understood her sentiment and why she made mention of it every chance she got…that is, until I had a child of my own.

Truth is, having children can be costly, especially around these parts of the world.  But I don’t believe this to be any reason for not having children if the couple so desires.  I also don’t believe we are to spend a fortune on our children’s clothes, toys, and such.

Our child’s arrival has been a humbling lesson in God’s incredible provision.  We hardly spent money pre-birth and post-birth, thanks to many many generous hearts from dear friends and family and folks we barely even know.  A friend of mine has a son about 1-1/2 years older than my little boy and since his birth, we’ve been beneficiaries of his clothes he’s grown out of as well as toys and books.  The clothes have become our starting point for the next season’s clothing and usually supplement just a few of the items needed by going to DDG and other semi-big consignment sales in town.  I have not had to spend any money in retail stores for brand new items yet…not once.

Thing is, I discovered, kids grow out of those itty bitty clothes so fast because their bodies are rapidly stretching horizontally and/or vertically at the speed of light during the first couple years of their lives.  And, I realized, a few articles each of tops, pants, jammies, socks, and shoes are really all we need to get through to the next growth spurt.  Who needs a closet full of new clothes, some if not most of it, might not even be used at all?  Now, I understand where my Aunt was coming from.  And I, too, am thankful.

Not that this is all new to me, of course.  During my pre-U.S. arrival, I loved and frequented those second hand clothing stalls, stores, and sidewalk posts we, Filipinos, call Ukay-Ukay (oo-kai oo-kai) or Wagwagan (wuhg-wuh-gan).  “Ukay” is a slang for the Tagalog term “halukay” which means “to rummage thoroughly” (think geological expeditions – endless search of something with value).  “Wagwag” is an Ilokano term, Ilokano being one of the languages of the northern Philippines, meaning “to dust off.”  Literally.  Going into those stores is like going into a minefield – one has to have patience and a great deal of tolerance for dust, mold, and funky smells.  All the time spent in those places was well worth it for a broke college kid like me.

Not much has changed post-U.S. arrival, if you ask me.  I still feel the rush of excitement when I see anything that resembles the words “50% off” or “clearance.”  I dart to any retail store’s clearance racks and comb through Plato’s Closet’s clothing selections.  But…just because doesn’t mean you have to buy.  Restraint is the word for me.

There is no shame in receiving hand-me-downs.  It not only helps save some money but also helps reuse perfectly usable things.  When purchasing second-hand items, ‘gently used’ is the keyword.

If you’re in the Knoxville area, here are some more places to check out for fabulous kids’ finds:

Once Upon A Child: http://www.onceuponachild.com/
Growth Spurt Consignment: http://growthspurtknox.blogspot.com/
Jack and Jules Consignment: http://www.jackjules.com/

Happy bargain hunting!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

During our baby shower given us by our most wonderful friends and co-leagues for the little peanut in my belly in 2008, each one has written words of wisdom/advice and shared one or two of their own family traditions with us on a 3×5 index card.  It was a wonderful and thoughtful baby shower ‘activity’ that I cherished so much.

During the course of the party, one of them, a kindergarten teacher until her retirement, quipped something like this: “You be careful what you say because kids will repeat them verbatim when they’re in school.”

Well, our then little peanut is now an energetic growing boy of two years and nine months.  Everyday, he surprises us with the words that come out of his mouth!

“Holy macaroni!”

In the car this weekend, I caught myself saying, “Holy moly macarni!”  I’m the guilty one on that.

This morning as he was in the bath with some squirt water toys – a dolphin, turtle, shark, octopus, crocodile, and a frog.  He was having fun with the dolphin, dipping it in the water, coasting it forward then lifting it out of the water, making his own sound effects for the motions.  Trying to make a teaching moment out of this, I declared that all these animals live in the water.  He grabbed the turtle and said, “This turtle live on land, Mommy.”  Ah…thank you, PBS!

Bath and squirt toys are just bound to be a war territory for parents…well, maybe not all but it was for me this morning.  It’s so much fun for the little ones but I wasn’t so keen on water spray everywhere.  Naturally, he squirted water in the direction of the wall nearest a basket full of bathroom necessities.  I firmly told him that I understood how much fun it was for him to let the dolphin spit water out but he has to keep the squirts in the bathtub and not on the walls; if he squirts on the wall again, Mommy will take the toys away.  He said, “Sorry Mommy, I not do that again.”  I can tell he was trying his hardest to remember this because a few moments later he sprayed his school bus with the dolphin, looked at me with a smile that said, “Look, I’m spraying in the tub, not out of it.”  It was a proud moment.  But it’s hard for my little one to remember this rule for too long.  Within minutes, he squirted on the wall again.  As a consequence, I started to gather up his toys, much to his protestation, but he eventually helped me put them all back in the bucket, even letting go of the dolphin in his hand.  I was washing down the squirt toys in the sink when I heard my little boy say, “Ah…this is the life.”  

What did you say?

“This is the life!”

He was belly down, his head above the water and had this knowing smile at me that seemed to say, “I know I will surprise you with these words but you’ll like it, too.”

Oi!

 

 

 

Look around you.  The tops of the trees are turning red/brown/orange/yellow-ish.  The last of the summer produce are slowly diminishing, replaced by the bounty of Fall apples, pumpkins, and pears.

Smell the air?  There’s a crispness to it and the coolness of it that’s refreshing after what seemed like an endless scorching summer heat.  Sweaters and scarves are showing up.

 

Of course, football season is well underway and there’s new excitement around as folks root for their favorite teams.  And how about festivals galore?  They’re all over!

On Wednesday night, our church bid goodbye to Summer and kicked off the Fall with some outdoor family fun and music.  Among my little boy’s favorites were riding the choo-choo train three times on his own then with company two more times, scaling then sliding down the huge inflatable slide with his Daddy, getting splashed with water as he was in awe watching a grown-up fall into the dunk tank, falling in line for popcorn and sharing it with a friend, running in the rain and stomping on the puddles with glee, getting his head soaking wet from the rainwater falling from the gutter of what was supposed to be our protection from the rain, and making and meeting new friends.  I thoroughly enjoyed the bluegrass music by Greenbriar while chatting up with some wonderful people.

It rained!  The parking lot cleared in no time as folks either left early, thankfully after having eaten dinner, or rushed to whatever shelter they could find.  But the rain blew over in less than ten minutes and the most beautiful huge rainbow arc showed up.  It’s as if it made sure no one missed it!  Ahhh…God was smiling.

So long Summer…see you next year!  Hello Fall…welcome!

…to buy a fat pig…

To market, to market…to chance upon beautiful flowers…

To market, to market…to be surprised by words dearest to my heart…

To market, to market…to discover beautifully aged and crafted new things…

To market, to market…to enjoy a lazy Saturday.

Lovin’ the new Farragut Public Market!  Being there felt like being at the heart of the Baguio Public Market without that unique damp Baguio smell mixed with everything else scent-sationally unique and also without the famously displayed pig heads.  There was a pig alright, only it was a paperweight.  Loved the eclectic mix of new, antique, handmade, barely used things and the bounty of fresh flowers and produce.  Definitely a great local find of late.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a time when being busy was my business.  I liked loved throwing the word around.

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Well…you know.  Busy!”

Smile.

And then we went on with whatever was keeping us busy.

Then two years ago…

“How are you?”

“Hmm…not too bad.  Mostly home with my little one.”

“I’m sure your little one’s keeping you busy.”

“Um…yeah!”

For the first time, the word busy was thrown at me, not the other way around.  And I relished that moment!  Sure, my little boy makes a day feel like a marathon but it’s a kind of busy-ness I savor and love because it is time spent with him.

Somehow, mommyhood plugged me away from busy.  Weekends were clearer than ever.  Weeknights were even clearer.  There was no pressure to make commitments.  Saying no was easy with no guilt attached.  I am okay with it – this new un-busy-ness.

Things will change, I’m sure of it.  But there is no hurry to pack the calendar.  This is a new normal for now.  A new season.  And it’s a beautiful thing to not take for granted.

 

 

 

Three years.  Three summer gardens.  Oh, the joys and the disappointments.

You’d think with all the resources available online and in books, gardening should be easy peasy, right?  Wrong!  My first year of gardening, I direct seeded a whole packet of asian eggplants in a narrow four-feet row.  The seedlings shot up as quickly as the little flea beetles ravished the leaves to nothingness.  But I didn’t quickly give up hope for in that row were two survivors of the attack.  I pulled the other seedling out and kept just one.  My hope meter for an abundantly growing eggplant bush went past the charts.  Within a month, the seedling grew to be about a foot.  The leaves were thin and jutting out from all over the lanky main stem.  Another two weeks and the plant grew another four inches.  Having no visual reference whatsoever to an eggplant bush, I said to my husband one afternoon, “I think that’s an eggplant.  At least, I hope it is.”  So I went online and researched what an eggplant bush looks like and came out thinking the tall spindly bush growing in my garden is, indeed, an eggplant.  But by then, I had my doubts.

Another four weeks went by and what I thought was an eggplant bush grew to be about four feet.  It looked a bit flimsy to support eggplant fruits.  Another two weeks of more vertical growth and I was absolutely convinced I’ve grown a weed.  The American burnweed, to be exact!  Successfully growing eggplants didn’t seem probable in my future gardening endeavors.  Oh, but how wonderful it would be to gather up an eggplant or two from my own garden for some grilled eggplant torta (omelet) or eggplant tempura!

In my second year of gardening, I avoided the idea of growing eggplant like it was a plague.  But this year, my desire to overcome my failure prevailed.  Determined, I read up on how to successfully grow this purple beauty and came across a book called “The Vegetable Gardener’s Bible (10th Anniversary Edition).”  I scoured online forums for tips on growing them in my particular zone.  I pored over seed catalogs to choose the best variety to grow for my liking.  I was having fun!

This time, I sowed the seeds in a 4-ounce yogurt cup in the middle of February.  Once sprouted, the seedlings were moved by the windowsill for light.  When the seedlings grew a couple more inches, they were transferred to 16-ounce yogurt tubs.  Then it was waiting time for the weather to warm up while the plant continued to mature indoors.  Patience is certainly one of those attributes that gardening puts to test.  I think I might have failed on that one…in so far as the eggplant was concerned.  Apparently, April 21st was this year’s last frost date for Zone 6b so by the first week of May, five out of the six seedlings were transplanted into the ground outdoors after a week of hardening out on the deck.  May weather decided to be fickle minded and fluctuated between 60 and 70 degrees, even cooler at night.  Some days the plants had to be covered to help keep their warmth in.  Thankfully, the weather finally warmed up and stayed there.  But it, too, beckoned my mortal enemy – the flea beetles – and they arrived en mass, covering as much of the mature broad leaves of the eggplants and poking tiny pencil dot holes in them.  I cried!  And I fought!  But weeks went by and the plants weren’t producing new leaves fast enough.  Meanwhile, the leaves that used to be healthy green looking were reduced to puck-marked brownish leaves.  I cried some more.  But I had one hope.

The sixth seedling was slow growing since it was sown indoors two weeks later than the other five.  Ed Smith, the author of the book mentioned above strongly recommended planting peppers and eggplants in pots rather than in ground and swears by the perfect success rate he’s had using this practice.  So I put this to test and transplanted my last seedling in a pot.  It really pays to listen to the gardening expert on this one.  Here’s proof:

We thoroughly enjoyed these beauties in a tempura of mixed vegetables one night.  Sadly, the rest of the summer heat has been intolerable that the three succeeding flowers didn’t make it to fruition.  It’s September now and there are currently four more flowers trying to fruit but it’s been unseasonably cold this past week, they may just drop like the others.  Nonetheless, my heart is encouraged to try again next year.

I’ve learned that eggplant bushes have sturdier stems that show just a hint of purple.  The leaves are broad and the back veins are purplish.  Oh, and they have an elegant light purple flower that becomes the fruit.  By the way, one of the five in ground ‘Rosa Bianca’ eggplant variety has just produced one small fruit… I consider that a triumph!

Think: coffee, lilac, orchid, cookie, and gym.  Tell me you haven’t smelled the words as you read them.

Last night as I walked into the grocery store, I caught a scent of cinnamon.  Ah, it was wonderful.  It felt like Christmas.

This sense of smell is quite unique and to be fair, the other senses are unique in their own ways too.  But what I find special about this particular faculty is its ability to transport you to a place in time where that smell was prevalent or memorable.  Today, I wish I could smell the scent of growing rice stalks again.

I miss the smell of rice paddies growing with the young unripened green stalks.

I miss the smell of fully ripened golden yellow rice stalks.

I miss the smell of freshly gathered and clumped rice stalks drying and toasting under the heat of the sun.

No one has yet captured the scent of growing rice.  My memory is having difficulty retrieving the scent of those young and ripe rice stalks.  Maybe someday a genius will find a way to bottle up that scent.  Not that I will wear it on me…just a whiff is all I need to feel like I’m home in the mountains again.  For now, I will settle with this beautiful photo of home through my good friend Marilou’s lense.

If you ever wander into the northern region of the Philippines, stop by one of these beautifully man made wonders and smell the roses rice.  You won’t regret it.  In the meantime, a new season is upon us so enjoy all of Fall’s wonderful scents – pumpkin spice, apple cinnamon,  crisp cooler morning air, and bonfires.  Welcome Fall!

Sometimes in the deep of the night, words and phrases appear while I lay awake at night.  The compulsion to get up and write things down often gets hampered by the fact that there are mere minutes left before my 2-year-old walks in to our bedroom for his remaining sleep hours before daylight.  And by sleep hours I mean those torturous hours of light sleep due to a squirmy squiggly little boy beside me.

Welcome to my brain dump – my tiny white place in cyberspace where you’ll read everything about nothing.  Wait…what?  Yeah, you read that right.  Everything about nothing.  Because there are those words and phrases that mean something to me but perhaps mean nothing to you.  Here will also be some space for random photos of life in action to divert your attention from the nothingness of what you’re reading.  That way, you won’t have spent your precious two minutes of life on nothing.  So here’s to nothingness…and everything else.

Thanks for stopping by.