Thursday, January 06, 2011

Campbells Chicken Noodle

Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup!
There is no substitute!

Weng knows that I am crazy about Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.  Here in Mexico, nearly all chicken soup is packaged dry, and you add hot water.  Just does NOT cut it!  Sooooo, Weng stocked up on a bunch of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup for me and brought it all the way from Portland, Oregon.  Isn't that a wonderful thing?  Hmmmmmm!

In the pic below, Francisco, Juana [Weng's best friend] and Weng show me the Campbell's!
Francisco, Juana and Weng showing the Campbell's

11AM - Salmon Patty Party!
Last nite Weng and I decided to have a salmon patty party this morning.  I made a batch of salmon patties. At that time, there was only Weng, her son Francis and myself to eat them.  And we finished the entire batch!

Soooooo, Weng prepared another batch of salmon patties for the rest of the family.  They are easy to prepare [link], and so very delicious.
3/4 batch salmon patties
We ate the rest during frying!

Attack of the killer coco secas!
A couple of days ago, Weng made a video. This video was intended to show Weng's readers what kind of work she does here at her home in the Pueblo of Aticama.  However as is many times in our life, what was intended was not to be!

The heavy sack of coco secas broke open, and some of the cocos cascaded down the hillside road towards Weng's camera!  Wow!

Click [here] to see Weng's "Coco Seca" video!

5PM - Innocent questions
Across the stream from our Little River Camp several families live.  In prior years I used to walk over there.  Since the construction of the new bridge, access there is confusing.  I don't know how to get in there anymore.  This afternoon a family with two young girls were walking along the other side of the Little River.  I shouted across, "How can I walk over there?"

The two girls ran to the bridge, then scrambled down the boulders and ran across a concrete pad underneath the bridge and reached my side of the river.  I had not seen this way of crossing the river before.  I walked with the girls to the water's edge and they showed me how to cross.  I watched as they stepped across a narrow part of the river on a couple of stones.  Then I stepped across the stones too.

The girls told me their grandfather is the fisherman with one leg who repairs nets.  I know this fisherman, and went over to chat with him.  He asked me how I was, and how is my family?  As soon as I heard his questions I felt my words catch in my throat.  The tears were close, and I did not want to show the fisherman how close my tears were to the surface.

Instantly my mind raced ahead of my words.  I thought, but did not say to him,  "I have two sons, but one is dead now.  My dead son's name is Dave, and he killed himself".  Instead of being so graphically open, I told him that my oldest son died this past year.  The fisherman got sympathy in his eyes, and he told me that he was so sorry for me.

It is like this often for me.  Innocent questions bring reality when I crave peace.