why I do what I do

Lorin and me, hiking in Tuxedo, NY. Photo taken 4/30/06.


"I feel happy to be keeping a journal again. I've missed it, missed naming things as they appear, missed the half-hour when I push all duties aside and savor the experience of being alive in this beautiful place."

- the ever-great May Sarton
in her book At Seventy

carrots, eggs, and coffee

Mercer Street (Greenwich Village, NYC). Photo taken 3/13/06.


Here's a cute story taken from Wayne Dyer's latest book called Inspiration (copyright Wayne Dyer, of course).

Carrots, Eggs, and Coffee

A young woman complained to her mother about the hardships and difficulties in her life. She didn't know how she was going to continue and wanted to give up. The young woman said, "I'm tired of fighting and struggling. It seems that as soon as one problem is solved, a new one appears." In response, her mother took her to the kitchen and filled three pots with water, placing each on the stove over a high flame.

Soon the water came to a boil. In the first pot she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil, without saying a word. In about 20 minutes, she turned off the burners. The mother then fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She removed the eggs and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she said, "Tell me what you see."

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the daughter replied. Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and they noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After peeling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich flavor.

The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, Mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity, boiling water, and each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile, its thin outer shell protecting its liquid interior, but after the boiling water, its inside became hardened. But the ground coffee beans were unique -- after they were in the boiling water, they'd changed the water itself.

a roomful of Buddhas

Photo taken 10/31/05 in Tagaytay, Philippines


When I sit zazen by myself, I like to imagine a roomful of Buddhas sitting zazen around me. When I write, I like to imagine a roomful of Buddhas writing alongside me.

Sometimes when I sit zazen, I sense my true loneliness seeping out, getting some fresh air in the quiet.

I want to write well, but I don't need to be considered great at it. I am fine unrecognized, while not fine short of talent. But is it talent that I want? Or is it a path?

Most likely I am okay not having natural writing talent, but not okay with having no writing path.

- from a 10/21/2001 journal entry

purpose

Looking up from the Staten Island ferry. Photo taken 4/13/06.


to breathe clean and true
the blue sky in my belly, the vast
breadth of horizon imprinted on my lungs
behind my eyes, porpoises that dive
to the bottom ocean, that layer of time
old as the ancient souls, and my every breath
is quiet, so full and brave. And I too am just as
wise; I too will last forever.

- 6/18/06

new weather

Photo taken 3/11/06 at Overpeck Park.


I came across part of this poem today, by complete "coincidence" -- it was in a March 2001 journal I was archiving -- and I was struck by how much it spoke to me given all the circus my body has been doing and given my impending gloom-and-doom appointment tomorrow. Also by complete coincidence, I was just telling Lorin about how having fatigue and discomfort and limping from pain, et al actually transformed me. I've let go of a lot of mental crap, and I've simply no patience for anything that smacks of guilt, shame, perfectionism, or obligation. And I'm quieter, which has been heretofore unheard of. I actually said these words to him, "It took me getting sick to feel lighter." A few hours after that, I went upstairs and continued my journal archiving, and that was when I came across this:

Often I think I should be like
The single tree going nowhere,
Since my own arm could not and would not
Break the other. Yet by my broken bones
I tell new weather.

- Paul Muldoon

Ate's turn to slide

Ats and Kayla. Same date and place as below.


Here's the link to the short clip of Ate sliding. As with the video below, you have to tilt your head to the side to watch it. I thought you could hold the camera when taking videos the same way you hold the camera when taking photos -- i. e., portrait or landscape, depending on the framing you want. Duh!

Anyway.

So. This is what litigators do when they're not annoying the heck out of people in court.

the first video -- watch Kayla slide (sorta)

watch the cockamamy video I took of Kayla on the link below. Photo taken 5/31/06 (Memorial Day weekend) at Wyckoff, NJ.


I was experimenting with my new Exilim camera and didn't realize that when taking videos with it you have to hold it a certain way. Ooops. But here's the video if you want to see it. Just don't forget to tilt your head to the side. The video was taken at their house. (I know... a whole playground set for one tiny child!)

Watch the video here. (aka http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TyBBUkEUus)

forest flowers

I've no clue what kind of flowers these are. Photo taken at Sterling Forest (Tuxedo, NY) on 4/30/06.


"When it's over, I want to say:
all my life
I was a bride married
to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking
the world into my arms..."

- Mary Oliver

foto pherret word = hot

this sure was a freakishly hot hike we took. Photo taken 9/19/05.


I discovered today a photo meme website called foto pherret, which gives out a word each week and you're then invited to hunt around your photo collection to match it. The word this week is "hot."

I'll tell you what's hot in this photo (besides my husband. padump-bump). What he's looking at is the start of a trek across a volcano crater. That's right, friends, strangers, and countrymen -- we actually hiked across a collapsed crater with plumes of steam still coming out of it one blazingly hot morning last year. It was so hot that the walk across Kilauea Iki crater felt like a walk across Venus. It was so hot that I did not expect that *not* wearing sunscreen on my brown skin would affect me, but it did. It was so hot that a few days after this hike I had to go to the emergency room because I was so sun poisoned that my skin turned into a mottled mass of swollen lumps and rashes. (Now that made me look hot.)

Iki in Hawaiian means "a little one" or "a little bit." Kilauea Iki thus means "little Kilauea," for it sits not far from the main Kilauea caldera that everyone oohs and aahs about when they get to Volcano National Park in the Big Island. In November 1959, when all the signs were pointing to an imminent major eruption, all these volcanologists and geologists set up equipment by the main Kilauea crater. Then ka-boom! It turned out the show was somewhere else. They looked up to see a previously-ignored section of the park shooting lava more than 1,900 feet into the air. The eruption was so huge that people in the town of Hilo thirty miles away could see it with the naked eye. There are more details of that eruption here, but some of what I've written were told to us by a local Hawaiian ranger.

The best guide-book writers ever showed us how to find this hike, where to descend 450 feet to get from the top of the crater walls to the bottom, and then inch your way across. I still remember that incredulous feeling -- all the while we were enclosed inside a real, still-active volcano, with the open sky gaping above us, we knew while crossing the crater that this was probably one of the most special hikes we will ever take in our lifetime.

my goodness, he's alive

Araw ng Patay (Day of the Dead) in the Philippines. It is held on November 2, the day after All Saints Day. I think the belief is first came the saints, then came the souls. Or, to be more accurate, first came evil (Halloween), then came the saints to overcome it, then came the souls. But I could be making that up. Anyway, how the Filipinos celebrate All Souls Day goes something like this: They get to the cemetery at dawn, they pitch tents over the tombstones of their loved ones (the tents are to keep out the blazing sun), then they lay out not just flowers and candles but also their mahjong tables, decks of cards, poker chips, guitars, ice coolers laden with Pinoy food and drinks. They sit around all day hanging out, praying, gossiping, and gambling while keeping their dead company until past sunset. It's a day where a person can say the rosary with 14 relatives and then fifteen minutes later be winning 500 pesos from an all-up paningit. All kinds of vendors selling chicharon (pork rinds), barbecue, bananas, ice cream, halo-halo, and who knows what else make a killing. Pun intended? Most probably. Photo taken 11/2/05 in Manila.


This entry is dedicated to Blue, my old Pinoy friend from high school, who's back among the living after being incommunicado for two years. (Before that, he was gone for more than five years.) Have no clue how he tracked me down this time.

Naku Blue, good to know na buhay ka pa rin. LOL. Some things just don't change...

the road is winding again

After the rain at Overpeck Park, Teaneck. Photo taken 4/23/06.


I am hearing the distant call to end this photoblog stint. Anyone who works on a creative project knows when it's time to wind things down and work on something else. In my case, my attention seems to be focused these days on longer works of fiction and nonfiction that are for print readers.

So here are the possibilities:

Option 1 - I keep posting photos on this site, a la photo album style. Just photos and caption.

Option 2 - I keep it as it is now, random photos with random crazy thoughts, both serious and non-serious, and just change the thematic format again. After all, this thing I've been feeling to let go could be just a mood.

Option 3 - I start another blog altogether which has nothing to do with photos. Right now the idea of a prose poetry/meditation blog appeals to me. If I do start this it will not be for public viewing. Readership will only be upon request.

Option 4 - leave the blogging world altogether and make my dear Ate very sad....


We'll see where the road takes me next. I've no doubt the Universe will tell me where to go.

Love and light to you all who have been such faithful visitors to this wonderful, amusing project.

my two favorite people

Kayla and her Uncle Lorin. Photo taken 4/1/06, on Kayla's 2nd birthday.


The bittersweet Will & Grace series finale made me feel so sad that I feel like posting a light-fare pix to up my mood.

Btw, I saw that darn kid today during the first half of the show. (They happened to be in Teaneck tonight.) Kayla almost knocked me unconscious by pounding one of those small Chinatown silver balls that weigh a ton right at my chest (you know, the kind that come in a pair and you twirl them around one hand, thus exercising your fingers, and the chimes they make as you move them are supposed to relax you). Lorin had left them lying around, and today Kayla grabbed the pair and started banging them together. When she noticed that I kept watching TV she leaned forward and tried to get my attention by lunging one of the balls right at me. With the way I was sitting her arm went straight for my chest. That one ball knocked me so hard she might as well have used a battering ram.

"Kayla, that hurt!" I yelled. She laughed and kept clanging the balls together, enjoying the sounds of the chimes inside. "I like this!" she yelped. "Two balls. One, two. I like two balls." The kid is super articulate for her age, which makes me so proud, but today I could have wrung her neck for it.

When I hid those evil things during commercials she went, "Where are my balls, Auntie?" She looked so small and innocent poking around the sofa cushions. Where are my balls. Who is she kidding.

"Time, time, time / See what's become of me..."

Dusk at Port Authority. The clock is part of the Time + Money sculpture grouping by the great Tom Otterness. It's located at the back entrance of the Hilton on West 41st St.


Tomorrow being Teaneck T's Great Day of Gratitude, I dedicate today's Friday Five to the power of wishes.

Birthday Wishes (a Friday Five Collection)

Impossible?
1. Go back in time and undo the mistakes I made and the hurts I caused.
2. Travel the world through spontaneous transpondence.
3. Win the lotto. (It might help if I actually buy a ticket...)
4. Have what I can only call SuperReader powers: The ability to read a novel/short story/article/what have you, and immediately know the structure, sentence to sentence, paragraph to paragraph, on how and why the piece came to be.
5. Cure poverty in all its forms.

Probably possible:
1. No more cyst(s). No more debilitating pain from cyst(s). No more hormonal imbalance that is causing the cyst(s). No more, no more, no more.
2. Prolific writing. Produce a body of work every two months. (Wow!)
3. Possess superior internal energy flow expressed through tai-chi, chi-gung, and Reiki.
4. Become a published author with readership that extends beyond personal acquaintances. (I refuse to put this under the "Impossible?" category...)
5. Be an excellent driver. Can drive anywhere I please.

Possible:
1. 6-8 cupcakes from Billy's Bakery, all with yellow cake and chocolate frosting.
2. Eat at one of the best Cuban restaurants in Union City (ahem. Ate, I asked you about this months ago...)
3. Go on a Rick Steve's tour of Southern France.
4. Be a backup acoustic guitarist for a band or choir.
5. Indefinitely continue the lifestyle of writing at home more days than working for an employer.

the rarest of friends (a Friday Five)

Pax at her belly dancing class in New Mexico. Photo taken 7/26/05 by a classmate.


How can I not post a Friday Five on a Cinco de Mayo that falls on a Friday? That would be sacrilege! The photoblog gods would be offended.

So here's today's Friday Five. Tomorrow is the birthday of my dearest friend Pax. In honor of her and the happiness she has given me for 20 years -- das right, we started hanging out 20 years ago during our freshman year at the high school we had to take a ferry to get to -- I dedicate today's Friday Five to the mighty Googie.

Top Five Qualities That Astound Me About Pax the Friend: (not to be confused with things that astound me about Pax the Mom, or Pax the Artist, or Pax the Wife, or Pax the Math Genius, or Pax the Family Problem Solver, or Pax the Philosopher, etc. etc.)

1. True ability to love. Genuine connection with it as an emotion, as an energy, and as a life force.

2. INCREDIBLE--maybe the word is even UNLIMITED--patience with my bizarre moods. Knowledge that whatever it is I'm going through must be pretty bad for me to be so odd.

3. Not using me solely for emotional garbage can/let-me-unload purposes. (And all the while knowing that it is okay to do so.) Not allowing me to do the same to her.

4. Not messing with things I find sacred. Knowledge of what these sacred things are.

5. Always choosing, somehow, to be happy, to be honest, and to be brave. Not necessarily always succeeding in being these, but the conscious choice is always there.


You are the greatest, my wonderful Paxmeister! I love you forever. Hope you have a wonderful birthday tomorrow.

the sacred answer

Cherry blossoms across the road. Photo taken 4/20/06.


Andrea's May 1 blog entry is quite inspiring. In it she describes a game she plays in which she meditates on a question about something which she really needs divine guidance on, and then she opens a dictionary for the answer. It's a takeoff on something people for centuries have done with the Bible. In this wonderful entry Andrea explains how this very method led her to work for the famous and eternally delightful Sark. (Who, btw, is NOT the blond bloke in Alias.)

So I said why not. It's 6:29 in the evening. I can either try this or watch a Will and Grace rerun.

Here was my question to the dictionary: "What am I supposed to do with my writing, Mother God?" (Mother God being my personal name for the Divinity. I refuse to acknowledge the Lord as just male.)

With my eyes closed, I touched the cover of my Webster's 10th edition (aka the definitive source for all copy editors and proofreaders). I thanked the book for whatever answer it was about to give me. Do I publish or perish? Was it a total waste that I quit my job for it? Do I have any talent? What am I supposed to do with all that I've produced, most of which have never seen the light of day? What am I supposed to do with all this intention, this impractical dedication, this belief in something I can't fully justify?

With eyes still closed I opened the book. I felt around for what my intuition was telling me. Go to the left page or the right page? My instinct said right. Go to the inner edge or the outer edge of the page? Inner edge, said the feeling. Somewhere in the middle of the page.

My forefinger landed on an area. I opened my eyes.

The word was "railroad." My heart sank. My immediate thought was its negative usage: To railroad somebody. "My manager railroaded me," "If you want to get rid of that employee, you should just railroad them," etc. I thought, what was I supposed to do, railroad my writing? (i.e., junk it, trash it. Obliterate it.)

Then I thought, maybe I'm supposed to put the pieces together, like locomotive cars. So I began reading, envisioning my writing to be like a road. You know, a railroad.

And that was when the Angel smacked me upside the head. Stubborn, stubborn child, someone seemed to be saying. Look. Look at the page.

For my finger was pointing at railroad as a verb, not the noun. The verb railroad has 3 varying definitions. And where my fingernail was pointing, in fact even underlining, was this definition: "1 b: to push through hastily or without due consideration."

An earthquake could have happened right then and there, with thunder rolling, the skies darkening, and I wouldn't be one bit surprised.

For that was when I understood. Don't mess around anymore, the Universe said. Stop doubting. Stop f--ing around. Do it, get it done. This is your job. It is not your place to bog things down with worry.

Just push your writing through hastily, and without due consideration.

our quagmire

Joining the thousands in today's peace rally in downtown Manhattan. I had thought I was just going to take pictures but I ended up marching along with everybody else. Photos taken 4/29/06.

safety

Kayla and Lolo (grandpa). Photo taken 12/24/05.


Even though this shot is nowhere near decent (you can't even see my dad's face, and forget about his hands), there's something about this picture that appeals to me. It captures how perfectly content Kayla gets around her grandpa.

And I remember the scene very well. It was the evening of Christmas Eve -- Kayla was so tired and miserable from the exhaustion of opening presents and having people around all day, and the only person who could calm her down was my dad. I think this night photo captures their relationship pretty well (the blurriness notwithstanding), and also how Kayla really is when she is with her own thoughts.

fact is stranger than fiction

sand shark exposed. Cape May - photo taken 7/7/05.


On the first day of my writing class my teacher walked in, introduced himself, and said, "While I get my papers ready I'd like you to do the following. Write one sentence, just one, about something extraordinary about yourself or that actually happened in your life."

We wrote. Then he said, "OK. Now, write another sentence, just one, that is extraordinary about you or that happened to you. But this time, it's completely untrue. The important thing is it has to be just as believable as the previous statement you just wrote." He added, "And by the way, this isn't a test. It's just a way for me to stall so I can get ready."

A few minutes later he said, "OK, let's all go around the room, say our names, and then each of us read both sentences. And don't tell us which is true and which is made up. The rest of us will take a vote on which we think is which."

I liked him immediately. It was such a clever way to get to know each other without having to do the whole "tell me about yourself and what you do" ice-breaker rigmarole.

What my classmates came up with were delightful. One was a bitch in a military prison, one slept with her best friend's father when she was 17, one climbed up the highest peak in Nepal, one was arrested for kidnapping, etc. I won't tell you which was fact and which was fiction. I'm a lot of things, but I ain't no creative writing snitch.

Here are the two sentences I wrote:
1. I quit my full-time job to live by myself everyday in the suburbs and give myself the chance to become a real writer.
2. I was the only one in my group to win a full scholarship to the Culinary Institute.

My teacher said, "I hope to god the first one isn't true." (At this point I was like, I LOVE THIS MAN!) He raised his hand. "I vote the second one is true," he said. "Who's with me?"

Three-fourths of the class raised their hands. Only two people raised their hands for the first sentence. I told him my answer. (Here Teaneck T interjects: If you don't know which of my two sentences are true, you have no business reading this photoblog.)

My teacher looked stunned for a second. Then he said, "Let's try to make this a good class for you." I said, laughing, "No, no, I don't want that kind of pressure on either of us."

The rest of the class went smoothly. High-octane, pure unleaded gasoline, as I'd like to describe it. The whole evening I kept thinking, Hooray for stupid moves! Hooray for cliff-jumpers worldwide!!!

NYC reflections

34th Street as reflected by the Manhattan Mall. Photo taken 2/17/06.


"New York City / such a beautiful disease." Often when I walk around the city I find myself humming that Norah Jones and Peter Malick song.

Here's a New York story for you. True story. Happened not long ago, in fact.

Last month while waiting to get on the downtown R train that had started pulling up at Times Square, I noticed that one car passing by was devoid of people, which would have been surprising given how all the other cars before it were crowded enough to even have passengers standing. But I, like any veteran New Yorker, knew immediately why, without needing to see the rest of that empty car. Sure enough when its rear passed me I saw what I deduced all along: There at one of the last benches slumped a homeless man, hands tucked inside his coat pockets, his head bent to his chest in deep sleep. And I, like all the others standing on the ramp, knew not to get inside that car. The air would be rank, fetid. Without having to test my own nose, I knew that the man smelled so bad that no one else would ride with him.

The passengers who got on the adjacent car with me were the chattier type than, say, the more tight-lipped, newspaper-reading crowds of rush hour. This was, after all, 1:30 in the afternoon. Two young Japanese women stood in front of me, giggling uproariously as they spoke in their language. One of them kept putting a finger across the bottom of her nose, and on they would laugh and banter again. A woman two seats away was muttering about how she "knew what it was all about." "Hmm-mm-mmm," she said, shaking her head. She sounded like she caught a kid in the midst of mischief.

A man wearing a long wool coat and a ski hat stood in front of her. He seemed to have been saying something to her already, but this time I caught the beginning of a story. "I was on the Bronx train one night, and there was a homeless man there who smelled so bad. I'm sure he smelled just as bad as the one here," he said, pointing his chin to the train car ahead of us.

"There was only him, me, this shifty looking guy, and this woman," he said. "The train kept going, just the four of us. When the train was pulling into Manhattan, the shifty looking guy grabs the woman's purse and makes a run for the door that was about to open.

"And then the homeless guy, who I thought was asleep -- and, man, this guy stank -- he jumped up. He just jumped. He jumped in front of this guy, and then he pins him to the ground and right then there handcuffs him.

"It was unbelievable," the man said. "You should have seen that other guy's face. You just never know about these undercover people.

"I couldn't believe it," he continued. "I couldn't believe that some of these homeless guys are undercover. So what I'm saying is, it could be any of them."

I didn't hear what the woman said in response. I think they moved on to a new topic. But I sat there amazed. Here was New York, an incredible, potent gift that is just waiting for me on the days I will myself to step out of the house.

I got off at Union Square and walked towards the southern end of the ramp, the same direction as where the almost-empty car was. The doors began closing and the train was starting to pull away when a noxious odor slammed me so hard that I flinched, my eyes almost watering from the smell. It was coming from the train car in question. Its doors were already closing when I came near it, so the most I got was five inches of its air before it sealed shut and the train moved on. I kept walking, thinking of the man inside. I just thought of him for a few more minutes, without pity or repulsion.

heaven and earth are full of your glory

Steeple of the Lutheran church down the hill from us. Beautiful church, crazy slogans. Here's one unforgettable zinger: Giving a little nod to the Dairy Queen a few blocks down, one banner read, "Why buy a sundae? All you need is a Son-day." Who needs television when you've got reading material like these in your neighborhood? Photo taken 2/19/06.


Happy Easter, everyone!

Agnus Dei
qui tollis peccata mundi
dona nobis pacem

hiatus redux, ad interim

Field of tulips in the middle of Park Avenue. Photo taken 4/29/05.


I've been busy, I've been sick, and I've been distracted. But naptime is over. It's time to bloom again.

when the fog lifts

Kalalau Valley, Kauai. Photo taken 9/29/05.


Mountains are inside me
boulders are inside me
Terrains and snow trails and
wide vistas are inside me.

- diary entry 7/24/00,
after meditation

breathe. beauty exists.

Teaneck sky. Photo taken 1/24/06.


"I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind."

- Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

hope

Central Park, 4/29/05

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Mom and me pretending to be NYC tourists at Rockefeller Center last holiday season. Photo taken by another (genuine) tourist on 12/28/05.


Happy Birthday, our ever-loving-and-loved Mom! I wish you much healing ASAP on your birthday. Mi pobrecita Mamamia fell two weeks ago and landed a huge welting bruise on her chest, which happens to be right on her heart chakra. Yow! Let's all send her love. Her heart chakra can sure use some TLC.

And I sure do love you very much, my wonderful, fragile Mommy.

Happy Anniversary, A&E!

My father-in-law and stepmom-in-law posing in their old apartment in Oak Park, IL. Photo taken September 1995.


Happy anniversary, Arthur & Elizabeth! Don't fall off your chairs in shock that I remembered. I now keep a calendar! And I actually look at it!

Finale. Free at last.

Ate and 21-month-old Kayla on 1/22/06.


Never, NEVER ever again will I pull a crazy mind-numbing stunt like a 21-day theme of one person, place, or object. I love the kid but this was ridiculous. Two days after I made the grand announcement of 21 days of Kayla, the great procrastination freeze-out came. Everytime I thought of posting something on this blog I went ahead and did something else in the kitchen or put another DVD on. You would think this was about making dental appointments. This photoblog, once a silly and amusing and fun toy to play with, transformed into a term-paper deadline for a class I hated. I bemoaned to some friends, "Why, oh why did I ever come up with this theme???"

So it took me more like 41 days rather than 21 days to make this happen. Oh, well. Now it's over. I'm amazed that we actually took photos of this beloved child every single frickin month of her existence. We are such shameless family paparazzis.

Free at last, free at last, thank god almighty this p-blog is free at last!

I'm so giddy from this thought that I might do away with themes for the time being. Let's see where this project next leads me to.

Day 21 of 21 = Kayla at 20 months

Presents-opening madness of Christmas 2005. All were for Kayla, of course. Note here that Mike is taping ribbons on Kayla's back. Also check out how Tito Lito (right edge) now has a ribbon tied around his head. Madness, I tell ya. Photo taken Christmas Eve 2005.

Day 20 of 21 = Kayla at 19 months

This was such a crazy hat. Imagine a little toddler less than 3 feet tall walking around with a huge hat like this. It was a present from Auntie Vil in the Philippines. Mike said Kayla looks like someone from mortal combat. Photo taken Thanksgiving (November 24) 2005. And is that a rosary she's carrying??

Day 19 of 21 = Kayla at 18 months

Halloween 2005. Photo taken by Cookie on 10/27/05.

Day 18 of 21 = Kayla at 17 months

Who the heck watches TV like that? Isn't this a yoga pose? Photo taken 9/25/05 by one of her parents.

Day 17 of 21 = Kayla at 16 months

Kayla has fun with her little blanket costume. Photo taken by Cookie on 8/19/05.

Day 16 of 21 = Kayla at 15 months

Mom and Dad with the love of their life during a family vacation in Cape May last summer. I swear these two are the most devoted grandparents I've ever seen. Photo taken 7/7/05.

Day 15 of 21 = Kayla at 14 months

Summer snack at her kiddie pool on 6/26/05.

Day 14 of 21 = Kayla at 13 months

Cookie and Kayla on Mother's Day (May 8) 2005. Now here she's got a full set of teeth. See the difference?

Day 13 of 21 = Kayla at 12 months

Interesting to see how green the grass is here when this is the same exact site as three entries ago (see Jan 2005 photo of Kayla's first snow). And Kayla looks much older here too. Now she has three front lower teeth! (see below). OK, from hereon I'll stop with the dentistry. Photo taken by one of her parents on 4/17/05.

Day 12 of 21 = Kayla at 11 months

Again, compare this picture against the previous entry and the one taken on Christmas 2004. Here she now has two big upper teeth. How the heck did they get there so soon? They're pretty big for something that develops in a month. See below for a close-up version. The human body never ceases to amaze me.

Next to Kayla is the ever-wonderful Barney boy. Photo taken by Cookie on 3/2/05.

By the way, Kayla's impish smile can also be found in old childhood pictures of Ate and Cookie. The same exact grin and squint. It's quite uncanny. Doesn't apply to me, though -- I have no pictures of me grinning this much as a kid. Ain't that a can of worms that will never be opened.

Day 11 of 21 = Kayla at 10 months

Kayla gets her studio portraits done. Is it me or she had a major growth spurt here? Compare this pix against the previous 2-3 photoblog entries. She doesn't look like a baby here at all but a mid-sized toddler. Photo taken Feb 2005 by the studio photographer.

Day 10 of 21 = Kayla at 9 months

I still remember that Saturday night in January 2005 when it snowed nonstop the entire evening. We spent the blizzard snug inside Mike and Cookie's house watching season 1 of Alias. By the time the snow stopped the next morning over a foot had accumulated, which made it Kayla's first official snowfall. She played outside for a bit and enjoyed every minute of it (the kid loves water), but really her parents wanted the photo op. She looks like a little stuffed animal here. Mike (black gloves at the bottom) is the one holding her steady. I love how the fuschia of her winter onesie contrasts against the white snow. Photo taken by Cookie on 1/23/05.

Day 9 of 21 = Kayla at 8 months

Santa baby on her first Christmas. The two front teeth peeking out kills me. Photo taken on Christmas morning during the opening of Kayla's dozens o' presents. Photographer unknown, though I'm guessing it was Mike.

Day 8 of 21 = Kayla at 7 months

Now THIS is what I call healthy mirror work. "To know me is to wanna kiss me!" seems to be the Kayla motto. Her Lola (Tagalog for grandma, aka my Mom) holds up the self-loving baby. Photo taken on Thanksgiving 2004 (11/26/04). Photographer unknown.

Day 7 of 21 = Kayla at 6 months

Court Jester baby on Halloween 2004. Photo taken by one of her parents.

Day 6 of 21 = Kayla at 5 months

5-month-old Kayla performs some baby acrobatics for her proud daddy. Hey, when was the last time you can do a trick like that? Photo taken on 9/5/04 by Cookie.

Day 5 of 21 = Kayla at 4 months

Um, yeah, you could say that 4-month-old Kayla had absolutely no problems being in a swimming pool for the first time in her life. She loved the pool so much that she was furious when Mom Cookie finally had to take her out when her lips started turning blue from being too cold. Kayla howled and made these weird baby blubbering sounds that really sounded like she was cursing us out. Photo taken 8/28/04 at our cousin Melina's house in South Jersey.

Day 4 of 21 = Kayla at 3 months

This is one of my all-time favorite pictures of Kayla, and maybe even of anyone. I see this smiling baby as the personification of the happy Buddha, and I'm referring to her spirit more than I am to her roundness (although it's that, too). This really is a great shot. Photo taken by Mike on 7/5/04 at their house.