Collaboration with Patrick Dyer

Things in your Garden

As for Patrick he had to go a bit further back to remember his childhood memories. Seeing that his blog is about healthy living it was easier for him to remember something about childhood. Times back then were completely different to what it is now. For Patrick it wasn't much about buying produce but planting it and trading with neighbours for something you didn't plant. Well as Patrick put it not trading really but friendly exchange of the excess you would reap once you had sufficient for your house hold without expecting anything in returned. So Patrick's healthy lifestyle I would say was something bred into him because the majority of the food back then came for your own land or your neighbours land.

What was in mines…

With me we grew a lot of stuff in our little back yard. Both short term and long term crops, sometimes most long term crops because of time constraints. We planted from tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, melongene, pumpkin, yam, tipi-tamboo, ginger, sorrel, pea and seasoning of course. Patrick stated, “like you all planted everything.” Apart from what we planted we had a lot of fruits trees as will and all of this fitted in the back on one lot of land. Don’t ask how we sell found space to plant but mother certainly did. We had two cherries, one sour soup, one forever not baring avocado tree (which eventually did bare) two guava trees, one rough lemon tree, one sour orange tree, a breadfruit tree, two coconut trees, three mango trees (one was a mini juile tree) and the biggest of all was the pommecythere tree. The pommecythere started off with one trunk but then spilt into a v leaving us with two big spread out branches. Patrick said “we had it all,” but I would say so because we still use to raid the neighbours’ tree. They had a governor plum tree, a pommerac tree and a graphed mango tree (aka belly full). Those were the good old days. Now I just starve for the healthy easy living of long ago.    

What’s in your garden?

Moments Cherished shared by Rachael Ann Thomas

Moments Cherished with Rachael Ann Thomas

http://rachaelathomas.wordpress.com/

Sometimes it is not all about the flam, going places with the family and it is not always about having fun growing up. In some instances it is just being there at the same place and time with love ones is what really matters sometimes. Everyone may not always be fortunate to have grand family expeditions sometimes due to their parents hectic work schedule. Not just the parents’ hectic work schedule but sometimes the extracurricular activities that we ourselves as children were enroll in at the time. Apart from that it might have been our school lessons, school extra lesson and private lessons would have occupied the balance of our time growing up which molded us into this well ground individual that we are today. Necessarily for some pictures are not everything but it is what you hold on to in our hearts and memories are what really treasure.

In Rachael Ann Thomas childhood memories this was exactly her case growing up. Living in a house hold with her mom, dad, one brother and sister they always had a tight schedule. If it wasn’t someone always busy, they were coming home late or everyone was just on a different schedule. It was hard for Rachael and her family to spend quality time together. As this continued her dad made it his duty at least once for the week that the entire family would sit and have one meal together. It did not necessarily had to be lunch, dinner or breakfast but whichever it was he made it happened. Rachael admitted this was something she would look forward to growing up. It was all about spending time with her immediate family that she cherished the most. There were also the occasional times that they would go to visit their other relatives. She said, it did not have to be on the holidays but when ever time permitted them too, so if they had a weekend free together, it was something to look forward to especially with the grandparents.

In life, it is not always the big things that matters but the simpler things in life that we just might appreciate the most. The stories told, the time spent in the car together, or even the little agreements that drives each other crazy, sometimes that’s what bonding with each other turn out to be. So let’s not get caught up with other people childhood memories but cherish what you had and feel free to share. What is theirs are theirs and what was yours is yours, because no one’s childhood memories are never really exactly the same.

What’s yours?

Marina Rivas Collaboration with yours truly

This is what she had to share

Her child memories

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWlFbWEvfwo&feature=youtu.be

I have a lot of childhood memories some which I  have pictures for while other are just in my head.

I am bought up in a mixed decent which consist of Predominant Spanish, Negro, little in Indian and Chinese. My family is very large but we had a lot of family gatherings. I am from an artistic and musical family where we love art, music and food. I remember every year was a family gathering in La Pastora (La divina Pastora) church and then we would gather together to enjoy lunch which we all made and would get to know more of the families. My uncle was a Bishop at that time so he would say the mass. I remember asking questions to family members like how you make this and what advice you would give someone to cook. I remembered my cousins and I would go by the river to bathe and socialized. It was fun an adventure. I remembered the older heads would tell me that my grandparents Sabina Rivas and Placido Rivas were married in the that church my father, aunts, uncles older cousins were baptized in that church. Today the images of the church seen are run down but anytime I go with my parents will always remember the fun time we had there.

I remember my mom use to tell me that art was something I had loved since childhood; my mom took a picture of me and the art that I made. That was around 4 or 5 years. Apart from this I remembered my first art started around seven years when started watching and drawing. My grandfather (James Caesar) who is on my mother’s side, use to motivate me to continue drawing and never give up on that. Well I listen to him because now I have my AAS degree in graphic design and am continuing to do my BA.

After sever came eight and that’s when  my culinary skill kicked in, as I remember my first cooking, my mom was busy doing other chores and she had a bowl of raw meat waiting to cook.  I found she was taking too long so I reached for the chopper and I said, “Chicken I am going to cook you today.” Yes, my grandfather argued but he enjoyed the food. From that day on my other family members showed me tips, and recipes to help me master my culinary skills which I have today. This is one of my child hood memories I will always remember.

On occasions that I spent time with my grandfather on my mother side he would always play his guitar anytime and sing in Spanish for me. Those are memories I will always remembered. My siblings and I were blessed to have a grandpa alive so we can hear stories because my grandfather on my father side died at the age of 63 years. He never got to know us but I know he is looking down at us smiling. Even my mom father would bring home basket full of Christmas food and drinks for us.

Christmas was fun memories. Pastelles making, black cake, sorrel, ginger beer harm, turkey and the list goes on. My grandmother on my father side Sabina Rivas would show me her secrets recipes, give me tips and show me what to do. Even though she was blind, her senses were there. She has inspired me to continue in the things I love. The spirit of Christmas use to bring joy in my heart where there were gifts, food and most of all family.

My Collaboration with Marina Rivas

Collaboration Blog with Marina Rivas

http://marisolcooking.weebly.com/

In the house which I grew up in, I was technically the youngest so when it came to the kitchen I wasn't allowed in to it. Basically I got away from being in the kitchen, but as I grew older and one of my cousins came to live with us well then that changed a bit. We all loved our belly growing up and seeing that our house always had excess living and visiting she made it her duty to always have snacks. Yep lots of it. So my cousin and I first task of duty since we loved to eat was washing at least the dishes we dirtied. Gradually it increased as our rudeness towards my older sister came into play. So as punishment we would have to wash all the dishes after meals and worse yet if we dropped our plates last in the sink. Well it would have been our duty after school for the week. Our head of household did not like to see dirty things in the sink so it had nothing like allowing it to accumulate and wash later. No no! That was not tolerated at all.

Being a female I had to learn how to operate in the kitchen though my task for years was to wash wares and do the clean up part. Any time I would attempt to help all I would hear is don’t bother me and move yuh backside. Oh one thing I was allowed to do but it was only because there hand was tried, was to mix the cake batter especially if she was making plenty. Interestingly enough I got the same treatment when I visited my grandmother in Rio Claro for the holidays. Poor me!  So there I was the clean up girl as well. Then mama had the audacity to make the statement that I don’t know how to do anything this was a result of me not knowing how to use a potato peeler to peel the potatoes. In my defense other than the fact that I wasn’t allowed to ever do anything and it was the first time I ever saw a potato peeler, use one and actually peeled potatoes. How am I to blame?

After that holiday after arriving back home well you know now they always had me in the kitchen now though I still wasn’t allowed to use sharp objects. The thing I wanted to do I wasn’t allowed to do ie. Cut up the frozen chicken. But the allowed me to season it. It was only till about mid teens I was thought to do or should I say allowed to do certain thing. I had my older sister who did everything in regards to the kitchen as it was only when she started working then the baton was passed on to me. I thing I hated then and still hate and can’t get me to do it is need flour. The amount of buff, quarrel, insults I got, wow. I never like the feeling. Other than that I am pretty okay when it comes to the kitchen despite my trials and hardship.

I must say I was always surrounded by food on both sides of my family as there were a lot chefs not on the large magnitude but the always doing something on the side.  Also there was always some cook book lying around either house. Whether it be wedding cake books, goody books or some recipe scribble somewhere , just name it, it was there.  My love of high quality richly flavoured food and fine taste bud I must say came from my aunts. I made me believe it got to run in our jeans but apparently not all, sorry little sis you didn’t get that good hand. LOL! Well that about that! As I would normally say

What’s yours?

A Co-Worker's childhood memories

In this week’s blog I did an audio of a co-workers fondest childhood memories. As hers were the times she spent with her grandmother over the July and August holidays. My colleague smiled as she told her childhood memories as for some getting licks was not one of them.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWFOliK5qpE&feature=youtu.be

While she spoke she mentioned her favourite teacher as a child growing and it had me to thinking. Who was my favourite teacher and why? Was it because I could have my way with the teacher or the teacher didn’t beat or was it because they gave nice tokens? Probably they were just laid back. I wonder what defines your favourite teacher. What I can recall, all my primary school teacher did beat at some point in time as no one was spared. To say who was my favourite teacher or teachers and why I really can’t say now. Back then I had a few well apart from the fact that we go along well with each other, though that never stop them from writing a bad report if they had too.

As she continued to walk down memory lane, I asked her what her favourite food was growing up that her mother use to cook. As she spoke of her favourite childhood food you could hear the excitement in her voice as she reflects. Mine is similar to hers as I wasn’t much of a meat mouth going up. Interestingly enough I can recall seeing myself sucking on a cow heel bone from a Saturday morning soup. If that was the case I don’t see why I use to be threatened to get licks for not eating the chicken. As to what I can recollect, I was a picky eater when it came to meats but loved a fish except for the “fry meh dry”. I could have never figure out how to eat it but I loved the smell of it. The two top fish I was familiar with growing up was King Fish and Carite which is known today as Mr. King Fish and Mr. Carite. The sweet aroma of the fish dipped in batter as it touches the oil and the illuming fragrance hits your nostrils of well seasoned fish is frying. Oh my word! Yum yum! Can you taste it now?

 

What’s your favourite childhood food?

Savings

Hello fellow readers,

This week is all about the coins, yes coins. As a child growing up, one thing I was fascinated about was the amount of coins in my mother’s room. Every corner and cranny there was a bag or some jar with five cents, one cents, ten cents, and twenty five cents pieces. She saved them all, I don’t know how she did it but she did. When it was the seasonal chores time I would play smart and volunteer to help her clean her room. If I never use to volunteer do anything else that was the one thing. Of course she would see right through my thought and knew what I was up too which was digging to see what I can find for keeps. Things like what  she wasn’t using or didn’t remember that she had it. 

Unfortunately I wasn’t good at it because in the end I would still end up hearing NO! Unless, I nagged her repeatedly and still that also sometimes did not work, but thanks to her coin collection it, created a little rivalry between us to start our own and who could have save the most. Sadly I must say this came about just because she was parting with hers.

Her theory was waste not want not, as even the blacken and dark mint green coins she saved. With that the stand was set, all had to be saved. For those who did not want those types of coin were one’s lost was another one’s gain. Strangely the there was a solution for her blacken and green coins hence the reason we rarely found any in her collection. At first I was the one who did want the ugly coins in my collection, but after learning the trick I would skull my sister of hers’.  Red sand! Yes red sand, the first time I observed my mother cleaning her dirty coins I was fascinated. That’s how she got the discoloured ones clean. Apparently there was a little corner spot in the back where she kept remnants of red sand mixed in with some gravel dirt. The discoloured coins became spotless; as I was curious I asked to try, but unfortunately mines did not come out as clean as hers. I was told I needed more elbow grease, as I was sent for the three small pots and a frying pan. Yea my thoughts exactly! 

Interestingly she didn’t only clean her coins but the blacken pots and pan, after my crash course she made it my task from then on. Ask me how that happened I don’t know but thank God it was not a frequent chore, though I struck a deal with her whatever coins I cleaned for her was mines. It was a win win for both parties, she got her pots cleaned and quarters cleaned but I kept the change. What more could you asked for?

Foreign Collection

In our little saving rivalry, we never had a schedule time to count up but I don’t recall ever taking that lead for saving the most quarters. My eldest brother and sister always seem to come out on top though I believe he would cheat. As we grew older the tradition continued, as at one point my brother saved approximately $400 in twenty five cents pieces, lucky bastard. With my sister in her teenage years she started saving the 50 cents pieces but eventually she broke that piggy bank as grew older. Seeing that I rarely ever came out on top and didn’t care to compete with my sisters’ 50 cents collection, I branch of into saving the one cent and five cent pieces since that wasn’t there interest. My brother also started me off into collecting foreign coins. To date I still save my one cent and five cent pieces apart from my ten cent, twenty five cent and my foreign pieces though I don’t get them as much as in my childhood.

What's yours?

Cupcake & Turtle Sis, Baby bottle & bear mines and Tin is foreign coins

Grad/Marina Grad Memories

For those who don’t know, graduation is in the air with all the stressing and fussing for some it’s a grand fair. It seems despite the amount we go through the nail biting is always still there.  The preparation, planning and execution, are definitely a lot of work as I somewhat feel sorry for the grads, poor graduates.

The things I had to go through for my primary school graduation. The million and one songs, the recitals, it was never ending. There was Poor Ole Joe, Somebody bigger than you and I, and I believe a Michael Jackson plus a perfect recital of Psalms 24 and this is what I can remember. One would think it was our day and we should be the ones being entertained but their concept was to suck the best out of us since we were leaving.

The thought of knowing that we finally have gotten over that hurdle should be a relief but it rarely ever seems so. Interestingly enough we are the ones which are  normally still under the stress even on that day.

 As were journeyed into the next phase of our lives, some years later you are at it again. This time around I believe we did not do as much as we did in primary school. Though I can vaguely recall but there were times when we allowed to sit back, relax and enjoy the entertainment. To my recollection for that year our theme song was Graduation (friends forever) by Vitamin C, as other songs were sang to us by the various other forms.

Looking back now I would say that my secondary school graduation was far more less stressful than my primary school graduation.  Obviously I did not escape from actually performing for this graduation, as this time around a hand full of us had to do two rendition s of Bob Marley on our national instrument, Three little birds and One love. I must say good old nail biting times as you are praying in your head not to mess it up and if you did hoped no one notice.

 What’s yours?

Marina Rivas Grad Memories

I remembered my preschool graduation which was my first ever as recalled crying because I wanted my grandfather with me on that special day.  My next grad was my primary school, where I was the most all rounded student. I used to help a lot whether it was cleaning the yard or helping the teacher write notes on the board. I use to help students who could not read or write and they learn when I tutor during lunch break and recess. Today I am still that helpful person. My parents always innate in us that being there for each other is important. I remembered being in the choir in high school until form five. I was the only student who stayed in the choir. I really love music and it helps me.

I Miss You

Hi,

Memories made, moments missed, the yearly reminder is a here again as we sit by your grave side and reminisce. A tradition that I always love is fading away, as the young gets older and the mature grows wiser. Fallen from our worlds but not from our hearts, as parts of me will always remember the things I would miss. The times in the rocking chair both good and bad, the stories told as the slaps passed year after year. Swinging in the hammock under the house while the morning smell of the pigs’ pen passed, we smile and laugh about now but I can only wish you were here with me to reminisce.

Sadly, you are not here as I remember the weird gifts, so many years have gone I still don’t seem to get them as my mind goes adrift. Lost in a trance, wondering how my life would be if you were still here, as I imagine a little pinch here and there with a scolding for not doing what you showed us. I smile as my eyes may water a little as I can still hear your voice yelling at my sister as she forget to make your timely dinner or made it wrongly.

The little things you taught me while I walked on your back and the buffs’ I got for doing it wrongly. I listened so closely to the stories you were willing to share the moment I would always cherished. Some you shared and for the others I dear not asked but kept my ears wide open and hope to here it over a gossip as I passed. Not to obvious that you may know because it was whatever you found was coming around the corner. For those who know the stories no longer talk even when I ask but only if we do something to trigger their memory spark.

As I reflect on those in my form who as passed, I also take this time to remember all my pets that have passed. My first dog, Snuffy, with his caramel brown fur and white under coat, ever so strong and loyal as he guided me through phases of his life and trials. Tearing up through the neighbours yard just to be the first to succeed in the mating season triumph. I believe in his world they were keeping score because as the females always allowed him with his Casanova demeanor. Interestingly enough he rarely bought that drama of his life home. The fights and the  baby mama drama, he always painted a good picture, it was only when we heard the neighbours enquiring whose the owner then we started putting two and two together.   And to think not before long he adopted a young apprentice it hand it all over too. There were several after them that I also miss but not could ever replace my first loves as the bites they shared shall not be missed.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/avi7/sets/

What’s yours?

Crafts & Toys

Hi hi,

It’s me again your happy childhood memories blogger, as we venture back into this gracious second living room, this time it as my playroom. This was the only room that I was allowed to get dirty, well besides the wall otherwise. I call it my playroom due to the fact that most of the toys were mines. The only thing that I could have remembered that really belonged to my big sis was her Lego set which I can recall she rarely built. Probably if she ever really built anything of significance is when she first got it though she was good at it. I never could have built anything like her, so I suck to my own stuff. I was good with the blocks, yea the small wooden blocks with the symbols signs numbers and letters on them which could never have stayed in one place.

Approximately around the age of five I introduce to my first jigsaw puzzle, it was a 24 piece (approximately 40”x36”) which came in a lookalike lunch box with a red plastic handle. I loved that puzzle as I built it repeated and used it as a mat while I played with my other toys. I never did get the picture on the puzzle. There was a female skunk sweeping out a shack, while a pig was washing the window, there was a rabbit attempt to patch a hole in a hay roof before the storm cloud came, while the mouse was cob webbing in their little corner; there was an owl in the tree either watching the weird man washing or the other animal that living in the hay roof. I was a crazy puzzle which I happened to keep until the age of 24 but being the nice aunt that I am decided to past it on to my niece. Well that was the end of that puzzle and a lesson well learned for me.

Moving on to my of fun childhood toys, there was the big ass doll, I don’t know where they got it from but she was the talk of my tongue. Funny enough I don’t call if I ever name her but she came with the hair comb that I loved and would nag my mother to comb my hair the same way. I threw a fit if she wasn’t where I left or anyone touched her, she came with a lily white frill dress with a yellow satin ribbon J. Then came the time when we had to part, year after year they try to convince me but it never worked I think she was too big to go missing. It was only around my pre-teen they took a stand and said she had to go and I was too big to be playing with dolls. Sad moments there L.  

Good times, good times, then there were my marble collection, the faithful ones that you could never lose with that took you through you hard times.  Oh and there was the “big uncey” that you would gamble almost all of you marbles just to get one, while the snake eye was some of us prize processions. If you had lost all your marbles you would beg a friend for one to win back yours or pray it fell out the winners’ pocket while they were running. Good old pitch as we play three man hole in the dirt. The hole was made with your finger and spite if you didn’t have water nearby or the water was taking too long to come.

The good ole toys that shaped me, of course you can’t for the toys that you would always get in trouble for, the noise makes.  The balls, the various types of water toys, those that would always make the knocking sound or end up in the neighbor’s yard. How I could I forget the toys that dirty the carpet and the walls. Why? Here is the thing, they send you to Sunday School and Vacation bible school where you learned to make some cool crafts but when you got home you can make it or practice making it. What the sense? Basically we had to make sure we finish our crafts before coming home. I remember one time when I made a basket out of the empty toilet paper role, but I never used it in public only to store things at home. As me now if I can make a single craft I certainly cannot.

What’s your childhood toy and craft memory?

https://www.flickr.com/photos/avi7/

Books

Hi

It’s your fellow childhood blogger here again as we take another walk down memory lane. As I am challenged every week to bring you something new, it reminded me of things we took for granted growing up. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I grew up in a relatively a full semi crazy house. Basically it was a do as I say and don’t question it.

As I watch my nieces on their days home where the television would go on sometimes as early as 6:30am, which is utter madness in my mind.  Of course I would tell them to take it off due to my upbringing, we weren’t allow to have the television on so early far more to even have it on all day. You would hear the famous words, “yuh sending up the electricity bill, yuh does pay any bill hear.” Good old days!

On morning’s it was to do whatever little chores that it had to do, like sweep, mop and do the dishes. There was nothing like get up and put on the television to keep you quiet in the morning so you won’t bother your mother. It was go brush your teeth and organize yourself and make sure your bed was made before fully getting off and once off stay off. Its’ only now I could laugh at those days.

I am not too sure if the is luck but growing up we had a playroom basically a second living room. I would say more me had a playroom because it was mostly my toys.  This gracious was a three in one room, it was the second living room originally, study room and my playroom. Now in this room of there was of course a wood couch set with brown casing, a table & chair set for studying, the ironing board, the telephone, the vacuum, my toys and last but not least the bookshelf.

As we weren’t a television structure generation, we had books which were passed on from generation to generations. Basically hand me downs. Interestingly enough there wasn’t a shortage of any and even the neighbor would dump theirs on us.  Sadly I was not the one you would have always seen reading a good book that was my sister. But when I did I would always seem to get into trouble. Why? I had the tendency to get caught up and forget about everything else. Why is it I could have never won? Do right I would get into trouble, don’t do anything I would get into trouble and do something well we all know how that went.

Any hew there was one book I can remember in particular that I loved that miraculously disappeared. Back then they were making books with the cassette that read with you and for you. It   became my obsession, if I am not mistake it was call The Snow Queen, am not too sure what I was obsessed with but I was. I searched, rearranged, stripped but still could not have found it and when I enquire about it no one seem to knew what I was talking about. The feeling of insanity hit me at an early age, as I would make reference to the tape and had to play it back to jog their memory which felt like a lost cause.

I grieved and grieved until they started buying replacements which was never the same though, as years after I still had hope it would turn up somewhere, but it never did. After that, my next favourite became one of those books with the popular stories, but it was a compilation of the regular stories with a twist.  The Sleeping beauty, Beauty and the Beast, Snow white, the Hansel and Gretel and so on. Considerably I wasn’t satisfied, as my old brother and sisters books always intrigue me, but I all I would hear was those books weren’t for your level. Knowing me I was always made sure that the books were within my eyes sight until I was of age. Especially knowing that is was there favourite, my brother’s was a Robinson Crusoe and my sister at the time was a Tom Sawyer. There were several others that I did in enjoyed as I kept my favourties favourites in my bedroom, but apart from the bookshelf collections there was a separate bedroom collection. Yes a bedroom collection, this collection consisted of pray books. Little pray books for children, when I wasn’t of the age to read it they read it to me until I was of age. Gradually I used them as short versions of saying my prays when I did not feel like praying.  I really did enjoy those pray books as I find myself reciting parts of what I vaguely remember still to date.

What’s your favourite childhood book memory? https://www.flickr.com/photos/avi7/

Great Aunt Dominga

http://youtu.be/-WZETjFaIx4

Little did I see of her growing up as a child as I would only hear stories so I believed she was just another myth. Sometimes I would think it was just us growing but the stories always kept coming though it wasn’t positive ones. I was still curious to know this other side of my family as the story intrigued me despite the negativity. There must have be some good in there somewhere as I needed to know. How? The first time I can recall meeting her I was amazed. I said to myself, “this is what the other side of the family looks like.” So many questions I wanted to ask, so many things I needed to learn but how? My mom would not permit me, basically I could only sit there and wonder. 

 

On the left Aunty Mano and on the right Aunty Minga

As I grew I was determine to learn but never figured out how as I remembered her occasional outburst in patois frightened me. When I would inquire where she lived no one never knew. As for daddy his promise to carry us for drives to know our entire family, well, I am still waiting for that to come through. 

It’s amazing the great history we lost as the gaps in our family tree are never past on or even taught.

What childhood memory do you cling too?  

Dear Diary

Pen to paper, paper to pen I am sorry it came to an end.

In my early years in growing up, it wasn’t known to me as a family tradition that anyone in my female blood line kept/ wrote a journal or a dear diary. Wow! As I approached my early pre-teens it was a popular talked about thing among my peers. Finally I convinced myself to have a go at it though I did not have the store bought ones at the time. This being a new concept to me, where you wrote down everything that happened to you during the day; I was completely stunned what to write because in my mind, in my life nothing adventurous happens. 

Before it could even hit the ground running, the dear diary idea came to a squash. With not even half of my diary written up, I stalled, apart from having nothing to write about, it was too time consuming. Not that it was only just time consuming, when it was bedtime in my house it was bedtime. There were no ifs, buts’ maybe or negotiation, worse yet to hear it was to write that nonsense. Luckily, I had lovely a sister to make things worse, of course out of fastness and knowing that she could not get to read what I wrote she would sell me out of pure meanness. 

Well, if there was any privacy in our room then, there was none now. Thanks Sis!

Courtesy my caring sister, that was the end of phase one of attempting to have a dear diary. As I matured, I felt the need to started writing again as I attempted the second time around to have a dear diary. 

 This time around I had evolved a bit and that particular sister was too caught up in her own little world to even be bothered with mines. With that in mind, I decided instead of having the obvious dear diary book, I started using scrap books and tearing out the pages just encase she started nosing around again. That lasted for a while, as I folded them and blended it among past school copy books though I still had to make sure that my nosey sister wasn’t nosing around. 

Eventually I became fed up of way I had to do things and the attics I had to go through. Finding ways to write in various codes were mind blowing and tedious. Gradually my writing became less and less, then my writing only were about bad days where I would write about the event/s and how I felt. Then it became about things my mother and I would argue about, but I mostly noted the negative things that she said and noted the date. This new trend of mines came about due to the famous statements, “I never said that,” yes that famous statement. Of course being the lovely daughter that I am, I would give her a gentle reminder as to which context it was said in and what the disagreement was about. Obviously I did not give her the exact whole scenario but bit and pieces of it to jog her memory. It would have been chaos if she only knew that I still kept a version of a dear diary. 

Funny enough I did enjoy the writing, and expressing one thought’s. Probably if they did allow me too, I would have been better off in expressing myself in my writing rather that suppressing it. 

Who know I probably could have written my first novel by now.

That’s the end of that, what’s your story?

Weekends/Marina chores experiences

It’s the weekend again, chores to be done, lunch to be cook and what’s for dinner still to be decided. Yeah right, that was way back when, not now a days, chores are done whenever lunch is definitely not cooking and dinner don’t exist.   As I hunger for the days gone by minus the weekend chores the moments cherish as I wish it was only yesterday. As I watched my sister supervised my nieces do their occasional chores, it reminded me of us growing up but just without the direct supervision. It was chores first, then breakfast, the shower with shampooing of our hair, probably a little cartoon providing we finish on time to see any, then homework if there was an excess that wasn’t done on the Friday. As for lunch, the Saturday lunch was seasonal as they change after a long period of time. In my early years as far back as I can remember it was soup Saturday’s then there was macaroni & cheese Saturday’s and when it was my turn to learn how to cook there was the corn beef & rice Saturday’s. Ooo and sometimes I did it with potatoesJ. To think nowadays I can’t stand the smell of corn beef furthermore to actually eat it. Yuk!

One of the best parts of the weekends’ was the Saturday night dinner. Yum yum, yum! I could smell it right now, the Saturday night dinner, beef pies, the arepas, hot dog rolls and mummy’s favourite pastry, the caramel curl just to name a few. She would have normally made at least two but nothing less than a dozen of each. Unlike when it came to pizza night she would make four big pizzas, which could never seem be enough. Or did she just to give the majority away, am not sure. Sigh! The pleasure of Saturday evening’s dinner, each time there was something different to look forward too. The joy and thrills of being a kid in my house, when she wasn’t  making dinner at home, she would be making it at baking classes bringing it home for us.

A part from the thrills of food on the Saturday’s that was the one time we were allowed to stay up kind of late. Yip, so that would be our movie night as we prep some of the things for Sunday lunch the next day. Sigh! Night chores! It was either a case of take it or leave it; we didn’t have any bargaining options there.  Ahh, Sunday lunch, but before we could get to Sunday lunch we had to go to Sunday school with the neighbor. Yep good old Sunday school, it became religious as at first it was a sometime thing. As my sister got older she was introduce to a Pentecostal church but I can’t remember by whom but I had to go there too. So gradually I was going Sunday school in two places but it got better, a neighbor around the corner started having afternoon Sunday school. Yip! Sunday school three times on a Sunday wow! At least I did get to enjoy the Sunday meals before running off again, I think. When we did arrive back home, we had a few hours literally before organizing for school the next day because after the news it was bed time 7:30/8:00pm sharp. That rounds off our typical weekend growing up providing we didn’t have to go out, yeah that just made it worst, same routine with less time.

What your weekends were like growing up as a child?

Going out the Saturday evening

After Saturday morning chores

One of many Saturday's night dinner

Sunday lunch

Going to church with the neighbors 

Going to church with big sis

What's yours?

Marina's Chores experiences 

I remember my first cut which and I panic when I saw the blood. I had lot of challenges where I at some point I would burn food. For instance, I burnt, rice, red beans and I would find it taste good. However, my mom and aunt would guide me along the way of what I did wrong. I remembered continuous practice I use to do in the kitchen such as chopping vegetables and meat. I always watched cooking shows to help me. Wendy Rahamut “Caribbean Flavours”, I use to enjoy that show. Take notes and try to make the dishes. I use to get talks from my parents because I would make a mess. At some point my grandfather punished me for leaving a cloth near the fire and it was burning. He banded me from the kitchen for a week which I was vexed. I never had gotten so unsettled to cook in the kitchen. That was how passionate I was.

I remembered the pressure I went through and wanted to give up on cooking and art. At some point in my life I did stop at the age of 14 years until I kept hearing the words of my grandfather don’t give up. Then I started pushing myself to accomplish in learning more in cooking and art.

Every day I could see the scar on my foot reminding me of the time I was helping my mom making roti and the hot oil fell on my right foot. Coco butter has removed it. I remember burin my middle finger in hot oil, I was helping my mother fry pies and I just lose my focus by gazing. I just felt a heat in my hand and when caught myself, I was burning my hand I the hot oil.  How clumsy was I. I did get ‘the talk’ from my mom. My finger swollen big and red. I learnt to always focus in the while cooking. My scars which fade away now but they have made me realize the progress I made in the kitchen.  It is through trial and error, I learnt.

My advice to people who do not know how to cook and want to start or just do not like to cook, understand cooking is an  art and you can b creative I many different ways. Another advice, to learn and cook there are alt of trials and errors, cuts and burns just like my childhood memories but just PRACTICE.