He Loved Me...

When I didn't Love Myself.

He held on when I had let go.




He Lifted Me Up when I had given up.


He said, "Come To Me," when all others said, "Go; leave."

He sent Angels even when I was in my darkest places.

And He Sent Miracles when I had lost my Faith.


I am so Grateful to the Lord of My Life...

Jesus Christ who died for me and Jehovah Jireh who provides for me...

2009, January 1 - This Far By Grace...

Thanks Mom for bringing me to Him and showing me His Love and Care.

When Life Gives You Lemons

Make Lemoncello.

The Horror, The Horror...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN...

P.S. Boo!

Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid...

Let that image sink in for a moment.

What does that say about the people in this region? Who would need to be told 'kids don't float?'

I've passed several of these signs now while Wandering around Sacramento's river ways and every time I see one I have to chuckle to myself, but then I have to stop for a sobering moment.

No Chinatown Either...

Picture this:
An old man in a normal-enough looking community park. He's moving slowly like everything else on an early Saturday morning. He turns and performs a thrusting motion revealing a long, sword with a red sash hanging from its hilt. He moves in slow, fluid Tai Chi .

Forty yards away, several older men and women move in unison on a grassy square - no swords. They too practice the art (of Tai Chi or Falun Gong) in early morning light.

After a short walk east, red, dried 'Peking' ducks hang in large restaurant windows, red and gold trimmed Chinese characters adorn their windows. Men, dressed in white, silently busy themselves in food preparation - some Mandarin, some Cantonese style.
I guess they wouldn't make it here in Sacramento, they don't make tacos.

Hanging paper lanterns, fresh vegetable stands, the lyrical rhythm of the language spoken in rapid staccato, old men and women walking the streets with full grocery bags and carts, dancing dragons and firecrackers during the Chinese New Year are some of my memories of Chinatown in Manhattan's South Central near Federal Plaza and Canal Streets.


I hear tell there's a block of 'Chinatown' in downtown Sac, but... A block? Chinatown?
Nope.
Not in Sacramento.
Someone said the flavor there - at the one restaurant that says it's Chinese - leans toward Vietnamese cuisine.
There is a Little Vietnam, though in south Sac;
with two violent gangs.

Welcome to Sacramento. Hope you like tacos.

Eavesdropping As Sport

I was speaking with one of the more intelligent people I've met here in Sacramento when, in a 'getting to know you' conversation, they told me something just left of center to my sensibility.
It was like listening to Leontyne Price and then, right in the middle of her aria, she's interrupted by that "She Bang" Asian guy from American Idol. Man was I shocked, surprised and disappointed.

They said they'd have lunch, exercise and then do some eavesdropping... As if it was just something else to do like go for a walk.

Eavesdropping, by definition is spying and deemed unethical. Outside of a blatant expression of committing a crime, it's hard to know the validity of what's being said, especially if it's not meant for you to hear. Not to say that if you would get the truth from someone if you were face to face with them... Hmmm. People I've met out here have a problem with being honest as well. I can begin to see the utility of some eavesdropping, but not as sport. Maybe they meant 'practice' eavesdropping.

Imagine how empty. Imagine the psyche. It's kind of sickening to me. If ever there was a time to apply the phrase, "Get a life," I think that one would fit.

In cultures of old, eavesdropping was a punishable offense; maybe they should bring that punishment back.
An old adage says a person who eavesdrops never hears good things about themselves. It's also known that eavesdropping and hearing things out of context has led to countless misunderstandings, feuds, ruined friendships, careers and led to bloodshed - hopefully that of the eavesdropper.

My perception of that person changed in a heartbeat. What troubled me most about it was the matter-of-fact way they said it and how they even did so with a smile.
Okay, yes, it was a woman, but does that matter? Really?

Eavesdropping.

I'm trying to imagine a place cultivating a people who are so bored or... I don't quite know what, yet, that they would rather listen to someone else's conversation than to their own inner dialogue or even have a conversation of their own. Something should tell them what they are doing is wrong.

But I guess ethics are relative in this political town - California Still doesn't have a budget. It's about getting the edge or a leg up. Jump a claim or two. Get them before they get you... Yeah, that fits.
Not to judge the entire city on this one person's actions, but wow.

What? No Little Italy?

I must say, Sacramento gets curious-er and curious-er.

I was out Wandering getting things for my "guy nest" and remembered I had no espresso maker. Gotta have an espresso maker. One of those Bialetti jammies.

No, not the electric kind; the kind you spoon some 'Illy' grounds into the reusable, metal filter, add about a cup of water in the bottom, twist the top on it and put on the stove top.
Yeah. The kind that makes the espresso that will make hair sprout.

So, still being relatively new in town, and not having the gas to Wander about of late, I thought... "Little Italy." Every fairly large city I've ever been to has a Little Italy.
Not Sacramento.

The first person I asked was a clerk in a store I thought for sure would have an espresso maker. His reply was classic.
He said he had a few neighbors who were Italian.

With some of the responses I've received in this town, I'm still not sure if he was serious or not.
He then told me there was no Little Italy in Sacramento that he knew of. He referred me to his co-worker who said something to the effect that Sacramento wasn't big enough to have one, like L.A. or San Fran or New York.

Or maybe... If there aren't enough Italians in a city to make a community, maybe they're not interested in being there. Italians are sophisticated, erudite.

I wonder why they wouldn't want to settle en mass in such a diverse city as Sacra-frackin'-mento?

It's hard for me to trust a city that doesn't have a Little Italy.
I know Christopher Columbus didn't discover America, and spaghetti ain't Italian, but humor me.