saturday night

You know what it is like to live in barracks? Well it is very very similar to living in a dorm. Small cramped rooms and usually with a room mate.

Right now I'm smelling the aroma of popcorn emitting from someone's room. Currently I have not followed up on this investigation.

Imagine your significant other arising in the middle of night to raid the freezer for some ice cream. And not stirring you from your sleep, to invite you and share some. Sure the can easily go into defense about how they didn't want to wake you from your slumber.

Then again you can rebuttal with the fact that he/she knows you well enough to know that you've happily gotten up to ice cream.

Who wouldn't on a weekend?

I am very much guilty of being not interested in candy until I either pass by it at grocery isle or watch someone else eat it. Luckily, with all my fortitude (I'm using laziness to my advantage actually) I didn't get up to get popcorn myself.

Tomorrow is mother's day.

I could be like millions of Americans spending money to show care and affection by buying flowers or cards. I refuse, to place my concern of care for my mother on a materialistic show of affection that hallmark continues to thrive on, my money. Some my say it is the thought that counts. So if it that is so...

Tomorrow, I'll place a long distance phone call to my mom. Ask how the dog is doing so on and so forth, I guess this is where I have to say happy mother's day too.
Tell her about my life and what not.

Sounds terrible huh, not to really have to much care for it all. Personally I'm not a person who likes to tell people I love them. In fact I hate it. Words are cheap. Hell, publishing this is free for me on blogger.com. My preference is show. The things I do towards someone or another is my display of my affection of love. Purchasing something trivial like flowers will wither and die in a few days to a week time, or another card that will be put on displayed somewhere in her home for a while only to be placed in a box of other cards from many years ago.

So, my act of calling and pretending to care. Is really my way of showing, if there was something I could do for you right now, I would. That's my way of showing happy mother's day.
Me being in the Sonoran desert and her in the mid-west. Makes it difficult to do so however.

In retrospect, earlier today. When I woke up a friend's house, passed out from drinking the night before. She cooked breakfast, for the rest of her guests and me. Most of my friends are guys, either married or single. But even if I stay the night over. I refuse to let a buddy's wife cook breakfast for me. I really hate to inconvenience someone for it, especially their wife.

Me coming over for dinner that night and drinking into the night is fine. And as a good friend letting me sleep at his place since I'm drunk and can't drive home is cool too, but to wake up and then having his wife cook breakfast and staying to eat, is definitely overstaying my welcome. So I make it a habit of leaving before they can offer me breakfast, so I won't have to be impolite and refuse.
The very definition of: Thanks, but no thanks.

So back to the story, I found it heart warming I suppose is the best way to say it. To sit down and enjoy a home cooked breakfast. This time I was a female friend's house, I found it kind of hard to sit there and watch her cook breakfast for a 5 of us, by herself in her own home.

"Someone is about to actually make me breakfast..." I thought in amazement. "And of course there is nothing I can really do to help her, after all this is her apartment." I went back to watching a Mrs. Doubtfire, and older movie I have heard of but never watched until now.

When breakfast was made, Myself, Corey, and our lady friend Kerri sat at the small table. The other 2 eating in the living room.

Half way through our meal. It was Corey, who sat there looking a bit saddened and nostalgic, who said.

"This reminds me of home." When our friend Kerri asked him what's wrong,

Kerri being genuinely concerned. Most likely wondering why he suddenly paused from eating the eggs and pancakes she cooked and he staring at.

"I know what you mean, I haven't had a home cooked breakfast since Thanksgiving day of last year." I said.

Mostly as to explain what he was trying to convey for I felt the same thing too, and to also reassure Kerri that her cooking wasn't the issue of his perplexity

"Me either, well actually since last Christmas day." Corey replied.

"Kerri, I envy you. You can come home and cook home cooked meals in your kitchen." I said.

Most of us forget that the single guys stuck in the barracks, usually have to rely on chow hall or going out to eat for our food, so when do have the chance to sit down and enjoy a home cooked meal. Really goes out and means something. Especially if we have gone many months without one.

I'll have to make note of thanking mom for her home cooked meals over the years. I've grown to miss it. Speaking about home cooking. Mom told me years ago about and old story from Mexico.

Something about 2 lovers; a man and woman. I want to say it was around the days of the Mexican revolution, it was supposedly a common belief back then that depending on the woman's emotion that day, it reflected upon her cooking. So that if she was happy and in good spirits her cooking would turn out in reflection of it also. So overall her cooking was fine and tasted well, especially since she was in love with her husband during the course of their marriage.
Turns out, somewhere down the line, her husband cheats on his wife with another woman. Upon finding out later, she does not display her dismay to her husband openly.
However heartbroken, sad, hurt, and angry. She cooks for him that night as usual waiting for him to come home. Her emotions while cooking were high and running wild. Her tears fell into meal, her hair was disarrangement. Her face clearly showed her emotional turmoil. She ravagedly finished the meal, and placed it on the table.
At dinner the man and the wife eat the meal without a word spoken. Shortly afterwards they both died. The causes were unknown to most, for the food wasn't physically poisoned, but we know it was emotionally. She died from a broken heart, and he died of ingesting that painful heart ache that went into her cooking of the meal.

I think safe to assume if your girlfriend of wife that day is angry or sad her cooking probably going to show in how well it tastes, that's IF she cooks for you buddy.

I don't remember the story to too well (probably another thing I can ask mom about.) But the general idea, is that too explain common Mexican culture, and why we always offer food and drink to guests at our homes, and why we insist on it. I take it is our way of saying here is our thanks for you coming to our home. Please enjoy this meal.

Or maybe its a good explanation behind
Barriga llena corazon contenta.
or
Pansa llena corazon contena.

A full belly is happy heart.
A common Spanish parable my dad and grandpa used to say.