Buying taco sauce from the jar wasn’t something I was too keen about when I made the Enchilada last week, mainly because of the preservatives present in a commercially-bought jar.
So I decided to try my hand at home-made taco sauce and was surprised at how easy it was to make it. My only gripe was that some of the ingredients are hard to find here in Bangkok and I had to use a taco seasoning from a packet as it is the only one that contains chipotle pepper! Not ideal, but for now, I can live with it.
Look at that deep, dark red sauce…it should have been much lighter in colour but that’s because I almost over toasted the dried ingredients!
It’s been two crazy roller-coaster months since the last check-in on how I’m continuing to foster my one word challenge of Absolution, and I’m missing the 1st Thursday updates for 2 straight months now. Being busy with work (and it’s really, really true!) has been a pathetic excuse to escape from myself.
There has been troughs of downs, with not very high highs. The journey has been rough and I have been on a long, winding road with a spanner thrown into a moving wheel to get to a point of acceptance…an important state of being to perpetuate inner peace.
Part of me, actually, a whole lot part of me hates it, rejects it even – after all, why should I just be accepting of things that don’t and cannot sit well with me? I almost convinced myself that this is nuts and I have no reason to continue further in fostering absolution.
But, I have gotten this far. I need to move forward. I need to believe that acceptance in its entirety is a good step towards my personal challenge to harness compassion and dumb-down my contempt…
…believing that I could and would eventually get there.
I think I’m getting there.
The pain I once felt has gotten lesser. Much lesser, but it does not mean that it isn’t there. I’ll have to fake it to make it. And being able to write this down is more of a testament to myself that I’ll be alright…hopeful that all of the pieces will one day stick back together. I want to feel whole again.
My life’s been pretty crazy-wild. I guess, once you have been down in the shit-holes, the only way is really just up – flicking shit away with one back-hand swat at a time.
One Word Challenge – Choose just one word, instead of making empty resolutions, to meditate upon and be driven towards for the entire year. Use this word as inspiration throughout the year to make yourself and the world better. You set the rules.
Today’s Prompt: Tell us the story of your most-prized possession. For this final assignment, lead us through the history of an object that bears a special meaning to you. Turn to long-form writing. Let’s celebrate the drawn-out, slowly cooked, wide-shot narrative.
Source: Google Image
Piece of Somethings
Things. Prized-possessions. Treasured objects.
For me that goes beyond just things, but memories that had in one way or another added colours to my life…mainly because, apart from from my wallet, passport and identity card, I don’t think I ever had a piece of something that I would truly consider as my “most prized-possession”.
My wallet, passport and ID are the three things that came to mind as losing them would be a pain in the ass. The trouble I would have to go through to get them replaced! Oh! That would be a nightmare!
The One with the Smelly Pillow
My smelly pillow came close. I had that since I was probably a baby and was the one thing I would not be able to sleep without for more than 15 years of my life. It was made of cotton and I was told that the initial colour was sky blue. Over the years, it turned grey. Really grey and was cold to the touch. Probably from the accumulation of sleep-saliva I had lovingly drenched it with.
But I loved it! It was probably the filthiest thing I ever owned, but I loved the smell and everything about it. I would never allow anyone to come close to it or take it away from me because that would have been WAR.
One fateful day, when I was in school, my mom decided that she has had enough of that filthy little thing and threw it away without my knowledge. I remember that day well. I came home to a bed without my smelly pillow.
I looked everywhere for it. In the cupboard, under the bed, in the washing machine and there was no visible trace of it. When I asked my mom about it, she stoically told me that she had threw it away.
She knew it was my prized-possession! How could she?! Boy! I was beyond mad.I was so damn mad at her that I refused to talk to her for several days. I think I even cried, and for a few days, I had trouble going to sleep without my smelly pillow. Sad, sad, sad moment in my life.
Eventually, I came to terms with it. After years of nagging at me to get rid of it (and my mom is not the kind to nag), she just had enough of that thing and my nonsense. Rightfully so. It was so damn filthy! I would do the same thing now that I am a mom. But at that point in time, it had seemed downright unreasonable. I guess it was the only way for her then. A 15 year old and a smelly pillow! Embarrassing. I wonder what took her so long!
That was one of my earliest memory of a “prized-possession”. I wonder if that smelly pillow burst into flames in the rubbish dump from all the grease and grime it accumulated over the years. What a thought! It now sounds too comical and one that would go down in history for the most embarrassing prized-possession.
Redemption
But I think I could redeem myself from that embarrassing story with one particular piece of jewelry that I could consider a treasure to me till today. All things considered, it’s not so overtly special that I would cry over it if I ever lose it or because it had some deep meaning attached to it, but it’s special to me because it was one of my first love-at-the first sight purchase. I had, once upon a love, succumbed to my innermost desire of parting with my hard-earned money from my part-time job to buy me the ring I truly liked.
The ring cost me about 30 Singapore Dollars (pretty expensive for a student at that time!) and I remember that there were only 2 left when I laid my eyes on it. It was painful to part with 30 dollars all at once. This is what it looks like:
There is nothing special about it other than the fact that I thought that it has a very unique design and that I love it so much.
It is a simple brass ring, yet, in my opinion, elegantly shaped for a rebel at heart. Something that befits me. There’s an edge to it. It’s a ring with attitude.
It is filled with small pieces of broken turquoise – turquoise being a trademark of the Native American Indian (something which I have been fascinated and besotted with till today) – and broken pieces of red stones which I am still completely clueless about its origin.
It was to become a permanent accessory I was to wear for a good decade of my life till it was all bent up out of shape. I had to finally take it off my finger during my first pregnancy because my fingers have grown so fat that I could not slip it in anymore.
I have spent a good few years trying to find a replacement for it, but could not find any that was remotely close to the design; let alone one that bears any resemblance to the colours and stones the ring adorns. With a very heavy heart, I put the ring away – in the hope that one fine day, I would be able to find one close enough for a replacement. I didn’t have the heart to toss the ring away.
Post delivery of Spud, the ring has somewhat been forgotten and I have actually lost hope of ever finding me a replacement.
A New Lease of Life
Enter Silver Bullet.
He had, without me having an inkling of what he was up to, scouted around for a jeweler that specialized in custom-made copy, took my old ring as a sample and commissioned for it to be made…I mean copied locally, with white gold casing.
It does not look exactly the same without the use of coloured stones being the main heart and soul of the ring, but the replication is almost uncanny when I put them side by side.
Old (left) and New (right) side-by-side comparison
I’m still refusing to throw away the old one for nostalgic sake’s. Even though I love the replica and have, at one point considered it as a notch up to being extra-special in my books just because it was from Silver Bullet, it isn’t quite the same…just because, memories that are attached to things can be quite personal and sentimental
But! Knowing that that making a replica is more than possible in Bangkok, I have to say that the idea of completely destroying the old ring to extract the stones out and have them set into this new ring has become a definite consideration.
I’m sure Silver Bullet wouldn’t mind it. After all, he did mention that the thought extracting the stones from my old ring to have it set into the new one did cross his mind. He just didn’t go ahead with it as he wasn’t sure if it was something he should do, in case the whole thing turned out to be a disaster.
I’d say, hell yeah! Let’s give it a make-over. Breathe a new lease of life into it. And, as we wrap up Blogging University Writing 101 class, let’s revive “things” with new memories!
