Commemorating the Life of Denise Borowik

Denise Borowik, 1991-2012

Denise Borowik, (1991 -2012) passed away February 23. Her death was particularly tragic and deeply regretted by all who knew her. Her native city of Salta suspended a full day of racing on Sunday (she was a professional runner and athlete) to commemorate her loss, and we in Buenos Aires who could not get away to attend her wake or funeral held a memorial in her honour yesterday in Recoleta Park, in front of the famous Cemetery.

WE WILL NEVER FORGET HER ANGELIC SMILE

A few shots of the event

We sang, played music, lit candles, strewed chocolates and flowers, cried on one another's shoulders, and prayed all together, asking God mainly for closure, acceptance, forgiveness for Denise (she took her own life) and for ourselves, and especially that He would help us to savour life to the full and give as much love to our loved ones as we can, while we still have them with us.

We wrote messages to Denise on heart-shaped cards, attached them to helium balloons, and released them to float away into the sky. This was, excepting maybe the prayer, the most tear-wrenching moment of the event. Letting those balloons go and watching them rise and float away was heartbreaking, and few of us could see anything for weeping. A purely symbolic gesture, one might say, but one frought with so much meaning and significance; we couldn't have felt it more deeply had we known that those balloons would really and truly courrier our mail to Denise's celestial dwelling place. What a relief to know that we hold the keys to the secrets of spiritual communications, and thus are never truly and completely severed from those who pass on ahead of us.


Flowers and chocolates laid on the ground spelled out D-E-N-I-S-E; lit candles

Praying in tears

Denise left behind a legacy of love, smiles, friendship, happiness and buoyancy of spirit. She was fun to be with, witty, pretty, and dedicated; she had a heart for the needy, and loved to give to others. The exact circumstances which triggered her personal tragedy are as yet unknown to most of us, and probably will remain a mystery until we meet again in Heaven. But one thing that struck us all, and for which we gave praise to God, is that--barring our very natural and deep grief--we have the hope of Heaven, and the certainty that no Earthly parting is eternal. Denise is near us, safe in the arms of Jesus, and we WILL meet again in a place where there will be no more death, sorrow, crying, pain, or loss.

TE QUEREMOS DENUS!!

Outing to Plaza Serrano

Here's a little pictorama of our latest outing. Danny and I, Floppy and Woosels, and Luchi with Raff. We had a great deal of fun.

Danny and I had a short little fork-fight:

Chantal's favourite occupation: stuffing her glass with all the food and napkins within reach
Hungry mumsy:

The lovely sidewalk cafe ACTUALLY had Guinness. I wasn't going to drink beer, but when the pert little garcon named the magic word among the list of available beverages, I think I must have shouted very, very loud, and Danny insisted on treating me.

Performance at a Spiritual Healing seminar

A couple of months ago, some friends of mine asked me if I would sing at their Spiritual Healing seminar. I agreed, and spent a couple of weeks practicing; it's been a while since I've sung or played in public. A few days before the event, a stroke of marvellous fortune arrived in the presence of Agustin Torres, a relative of my husband, who happens to be a well-known singer and musician. He's cut a few albums in Colombia, where's he's worked as a missionary with his family for many years. He was staying at our home for a few days; anyway, he jumped at the chance of performing at the seminar, and gladly agreed to sing a few numbers with me.

I lament that the pictures are far from quality; I'm afraid nobody thought to include a photographer as part of the staff. But the seminar was very successful and moving; most of the people who went were deeply touched, and several experienced healing in profound ways. One woman requested prayer for her daughter's father-in-law, a devout atheist, who was in the hospital with terminal cancer. We prayed for him, and a week later the woman called me up and said that the man had been sent home, with the cancer gone into remission. The man and his family had scorned our friend when she told them she had prayed for him at the seminar, but they could hardly believe their eyes when the sick man recovered only a few days later.

As a PS to that story, our friend went back and prayed with the man to receive Jesus into his heart. He passed away peacefully a few weeks later.

Anyway, I was very glad to be able to perform with Agustin; he's really awesome on stage! Dynamic and bleeding charisma from every pore. I recall the rush of performing next to my mother; it's a marvellous experience to get to perform with people who throw themselves completely into the music.

Well, ta ta for now!

The Next Day--Sequel to My Birthday

Saturday dawned cloudy and misty. Today was the day Danny would take me shopping for birthday presents... We arranged that I would take care of the kids in the morning, and then we would leave at 4 p.m. I had to do the bulk of my laundry, and also had the misfortune of burning two fingers on a sizzling pot while making lunch--owie!! Other then that, the day went by smoothly, except for a hectic few moments right before leaving--I'm of the firm impression

that NO WOMAN in the world can get ready to leave as fast as I can, heh.

Bummer we don't have any pictures of our time out, but it was a simply smashing time. Danny had his heart set on getting me a few articles of serviceable clothing, and so we headed for town amidst a grey drizzle, with the baby safely tucked and bundled in a harness. Luchi kept Floppy at home for us, THANKS AGAIN LUCHI!!!

So we traipsed through some ritzy stores in a hip part of town looking for bargains. I'm a lucky-ducky in that--Sunday is Mother's Day here, so there were promotions and sales in every store. We thought of getting me some much-needed sunglasses, but were immediately repelled by both the shoddiness of the cheap ones, and the horrific high prices of the designer ones. We decided to search for something more middleground-ish another day.

We ended up getting me some lovely sport stockings, a smart pair of jeans, and a belt. A great big men's belt, double leather, wasted white finish, with a massive buckle. My favorite. Actually, it was Danny's idea. I think he's intending to wear it himself, heh. He still wears my greenish-black scarf I got myself in my first Argentine winter.

Reminds me of the guy who bought his wife a chainsaw for her Christmas present. He slept on the couch for the next week or so, and finally complained to his buddies, "Well, we needed a chainsaw..."

WAHAHAHAHAA!! Nope, that's not how it's like. I'm wearing the belt now, and it's just awesome. Danny punched some extra holes to accommodate my rather skinny frame, of course, and it looks so very good on me. Danny also treated himself to a new pair of jeans, hallelujah!!

Oh yes, an interesting thing happened while I was in one of the dressing rooms trying on some jeans. When I came out to show Danny and the saleslady the finished effect, I found Danny with a bright red face, in lively conversation with a doting sort of lady. Apparently the lady, charmed by our beautiful bouncing munchkin in her manly father's arms, had come up and asked Danny what the baby's name was. And Danny couldn't remember her given name. An awkward

second or two passed before Danny laughingly spluttered that he gets confused sometimes, because everyone calls her "Goobers", and he forgets her complicated French name (at this point the name popped into his mind), Chantal, given her by her French mother. I emerged from the dressing room in time to catch the last half of the conversation. I tried very hard not to laugh just then at the sight of the lady's face.

Hee hee hee!

Now I'm going to show you a few pictures, and you'll be very delighted. I hope...

No, wait, that's Danny singing a happy song, as his doting wife provides giggling harmonies.

Take a good look at this next one:
No, it's not my beautiful grumpy baby, or my beautiful red shirt, or the fact that I have no earlobes. Look at my face...

I poked my nose with a spit!!! No really, we went to a jolly little tattoo parlour and a nice young chap in a white smock and elegant moustache did some unholy incantations around my nose, and put a thick sterilized needle through one nostril. Then he distended it. I made it a point not to cry, but a tear or two slipped down anyway. I smiled bravely. Meanwhile Danny had a jolly ten minutes swapping yarns with the tattooed pierced fellows below. When my ordeal was over I had a spike peeping timidly above my right nostril, and I had a pleasant conversation with the pierce-person. A charming fellow, very young; wants to travel through Europe. And I was delighted to hear him advise me on the care of my piercing: "Wash your nose three times a day with white soap, warm water, and salt." I wondered aloud about the usual prescriptions for store-bought ointments and cleansers, and he replied, to my further delight, "Well, we're very 'casero' (rough trans: homemade) here; we prefer using the good ol' natural things. And who knows if someone might be allergic or react badly to chemical treatments, anyway?" I have been following his advice, by-the-by, with one little addition of my own: I use antiseptic surgery soap instead of white soap, which chaps my hands. An my nose is healing beautifully, although it does feel as though I have something perpetually stuck up my nose...

Anyhoo, I came downstairs to find Danny worried half to death that my handbag had been stolen, as he had been carrying it and hadn't remembered that I had swapped baby for the handbag before going upstairs into the piercing office. Oh well, all's well that ends well. It was a fitting end to a jolly day. Here's another tribute to my beautiful nose before I go on with my tale:

Ah, so charming. I just love that red shirt.

Anyway, after the nose-piercing adventure, we went to our favorite Mar del Platense restaurant, Mambru's. Ahhhh! The delights of a full stomach! I'm going there again asap, and that's a fact! It opens at eight p.m.; we got there about 3 minutes too soon, and had to spend those three minutes sheltering from the drizzle under a gracefully arched bush over one of the porch tables. We were the first to arrive, but we soon had company. During the next 3 minutes, about 10 or 12 people began crowding around the front doors. And when the doors were opened from the inside, and the lights within switched on, people streamed inside, and by the time we reached the entrance (from about 6 yards distance), four tables were occupied, and people were crowding around the take-away counter.

A word about Mambru's. Their specialties are pizzas, hamburgers and milanesa sandwiches. And their food is known for being generous in both size and flavour. And there's a beautiful back patio covered with vines and a skylight, and cozy couched wall benches. We sat in our favorite spot, and managed to consume the monstrous mountains on our trays. Deeelicious.

Well, in all, Danny's outdone himself once again, and I've had such a wonderful birthday. I think I'd better stop talking about it before y'all get envious. I love you lots!

Prebirthday Meditations

My husband is a freelance digital artist. That means that he generally has flexible schedules. He can work all night, or all day, or in shifts--whatever suits the need.

But Friday won't work for him. And since changing dates of birth is not a feasible possibility, we opted for splitting the fun-time-together-day-out into separate slivers of time. Wednesday morning we went out for breakfast. Saturday afternoon we'll do some shopping. And then he's taking me out to dinner. Oh baby! Sunday we might go to town to celebrate Mother's Day and enjoy the confusion.

But what happened yesterday is what I would like to tell you about right now. The baby woke me up unusually early, which was, well, unusual; but that was just as well, because we had planned to leave early anyway. Luchi took Floppy for us, THANKS LUCHI!!!! We ambled off in the lovely morning sunshine to a cute little cafe down the street, and enjoyed a nice cup of coffee together, while the baby earnestly gnawed on those sturdy little sugar packets and whined for my coffee cup.

At one point while discussing what we should do to celebrate my erstwhile birthday, Danny asked me what I would like as a gift.

Now anyone who knows me slightly generally does not lack knowledge of my wishlists. I normally have an arm's length list of stuff I desire to possess. I'm actually not super possessive, but neither am I secretive with my wishes.

Anyway, I opened my mouth confidently, stopped, and gaped a bit. Danny got a little annoyed, assuming I was being modest with him (am I ever?).

But as I racked my brain, I realized that I have no true unfulfilled desires. Everything I wanted or thought I wanted, has already been granted. The only thing I really want is a Spanish Bible, but someone already told me that they'll try to get me one.

My mind kept racing, but what could I do? Aside from the everyday trinkets, I have no real needs or wants that have not already been provided for.

And it got me thinking about how marvelous God is. We're not rich, or opulent, or anything of the sort, but we don't lack for any of our needs. Paul said something like, "I have learned to abase and abound"... wait, here it is:

I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. (Philippians 4:12)

Anyway, we've been so very blessed in so many ways; I finally admitted the same to Danny, and he wholeheartedly agreed. We took some moments to thank Jesus together for His love and care, because, really, he's outdone himself again. Isn't Jesus worth living for?

Ear Doctor Visit #2

Back to the doc, back to the doc, back to the doc we go--hey ho!

Another expedition to the bumbling doc/nutsy secretary. Once again, we waited for a very VERY long time; but hallelujah, the secretary decided to shave off nearly a quarter of the price. Goodie! I think she was upset at the doctor, as he arrived nearly an hour late. ... Well, PTL!

(And this is just a sidenote:) Floppy kept exclaiming how much the secretary resembles her grandmother Gloria.

Anyway, I came better equipped this time, with an artbook and pens for my antsy three-year-old. As usual, the little girls dominated everyone's attention in the crowded waiting room; I also amused myself by teaching Floppy to wink. She still can't do it, but she will. To my further amusement, I counted the diplomas and certificates on the wall. 76, in plain sight. Wow. After 2 hours, we were the second-last ones again; it was so late that the nurses had already left for their 4-hour siesta break, and the doctor realized, to his dismay, that there wasn't anyone to help him with Floppy's earwash, so he grudgingly called in the secretary to hold Floppy.

THIS IS WHERE THE GRANDMOTHER-RESEMBLANCE CAME IN HANDY. Floppy cuddled up in her motherly arms immediately, and, somewhat frightened and wide-eyed, allowed them to use a long wicked-looking bulbous contraption to flush out her ears. By gum, what a wax buildup!! Nearly turned my stomach. Ugh! Well, once that was through, I asked for a frequency check-up, and was told to return in two weeks, and prepare Floppy by practicing with her to react to sounds when she hears them. The secretary must have seen me cringe slightly, because she assured me that she'll reduce the price every time I visit. Nice!

There's a clever poem which I'm learning to live by:

A wise old owl sat in a tree

The less he spoke, the more he'd see

The more he saw, the more he heard

Wish we could all be like that wise old bird

Something like that. Anyway, aside from asking questions and listening carefully, I silently and attentively watched the procedures, and it's very simple to emulate. So I'll be able to clean Floppy's ears out myself next time, and hallelujah.

On with the expedition! Rather than hurrying home needlessly, we ambled through the center of town, stopped for lunch at a sweet little Roma-owned joint, where an amazing little waitress kept a cool, organized head and perpetual bright smile as she juggled her way through twenty-five tables in a jam-packed lunch-rush-hour. Excellent pizza, lovely prices. Will definitely go back there.

Then we strolled leisurely down the walking street looking for a perfumery where I could get myself my birthday present. I wanted a specific shade of Lancome lipstick to replace the one I've used up, but unfortunately it's been discontinued, and that's a good thing, because I wouldn't have been able to afford the astronomical price anyway. So I settled for a similarly lovely shade (from another brand) which was more within my price range, and just as pretty, hallelujah. Even Danny approved once I got home. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a source of great satisfaction. It's the first time he's ever approved of any of my choices of lipstick.

So ends our adventures out-of-doors. Now to clean my room, sniff.

Ear Doctor Visit #1

Rightie! So about a week ago I became very concerned (try "freaked") over Floppy's apparent inability to hear properly. She couldn't understand me at a distance, never paid attention to whispers or soft voices, and continually asked me to repeat myself, while straining forward. Yikes. So I looked into getting an appointment at the public facilities--alas, the place was tarnationally far, necessitated an exceptionally early rise in the cold gloomy pre-spring weather, with the baby and Floppy, via bus. No thank you! So the only other option was a private clinic. I called around, and after recovering emotionally from the costs (25 US per visit), we scheduled an appointment. The day of the appointment, Daddy was sick, and so I had to reschedule. Mind you, the nutsy secretary made me call again 4 times to reschedule; each time she made me hold the line while shouting merrily at [somebody else]... Once she hung up on me; I hope it was accidental. I wasn't impressed.

Floppy, at first, was not too keen on the idea of visiting a doctor. (I wonder who she takes after, hmm??) So we prepared beforehand; we studied about the workings of the middle and inner ears, and examined diagrams of the interior of the head cavity. I drew her a scary picture of an ugly, bumbling old doctor with a wicked-looking piece of ear-cleaning machinery in his hand, and by gum, she just loved it, and from thenceforth was eager to go to the doc. I also promised her a snack in a restaurant after the visit, if she behaved well. She got to where she could hardly wait!

Well, after much ado, we woke up this morning to a rainy gloomy haze, alas, forcing us to have to call a cabbie to arrive at our appointment. With my chique hat at a jaunty angle, the baby in a harness, and Floppy in her awesome skull-and-bones pink suit and peruvian snow hat, we crashed and smashed our way into the cab. The cabbie was a lovely dear old man (he prayed with us to receive Jesus in his heart!!! Another friend to meet in Heaven!) in a sleek and lovely car. Floppy wondered aloud why 'the taxi isn't yellow'...

We arrived at the place in time, only to find a looooong line of people ahead of us. For some strange reason (even though the appointments were supposed to be according to the order of arrival) four people who showed up after us got to see the doctor before we did. Maybe the nutsy secretary just loved the sight of the two beautiful little girls .... We did, however, manage to take in the 3,547 diplomas on the wall, ascertaining that at least this doctor was probably the best in his field for miles around...

And when the doc finally deigned to review us, he took a short look with a little light into Floppy's ears, declared that she's got a nasty buildup of wax in both ears, and prescribed some little drops for her ears. Then he said "Come back on Tuesday and I'll clean her ears..." I was fuming inwardly at the expense (I mean, if this doc gets $25 US per 5 minutes of his time...) of getting a guy to look inside two little ears, but I guess it's worth it to make sure the little ones are safe and healthy, amen? Then the doc graciously offered to check the baby's ears too, for no extra cost. Hallelujah, the little one's ears are in fine condition, despite nasty cold of the last two weeks. The doc was a sweet person, very conscientious of Floppy's shyness, age, etc.

Okay, so out we bounced, and off to find a cozy lil' restaurant where I could nurse the munchie-munchie and get Floppy a treat. We finally settled on what looked (from the outside) like a smart modern snack bar with a real charming usher in front; it turned out to be a huge cinema/restaurant, with two or three enormous screens DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF OUR TABLE (meaning that Floppy spent the next 1 1/2 hours staring at the inane TV while munching lazily on her gigantic piece of pizza.)

A sharp waiter, age maybe around 15 or 16, with a cuuute little fresh-face and a big happy smile that reminded me of my little brother Joshua age 10, ushered us genially to a seat and took our order. I tell you, if he goes on in the business, in 10 years he'll be eligible for "best waiter in town" Academy Award. Seriously, I was charmed by his service. I paid the bill and tip in advance, and he came back all worried, "Ma'am, you gave me too much money." Apparently the boy wasn't used to getting tipped (?) I was rewarded with another beautiful smile when I informed him the extra was for him to keep. Tipping is so much fun...

So is watching your three-year-old daughter eat a gigantic slice of pizza with all the gusto and good manners of a little princess, sniff. Such a fine upbringing... After about an hour, however, I started getting bored, and so amused myself by stealing bites of her pizza and swigs of her peach shake, much to her delight. Ha ha! So much for the sunny weather report, at 2 p.m. it was still drizzling, and I didn't have enough money for a cab home, so we just took a bus. Now the wonderful thing about Argentina is traveling with a baby: people will fight to give you their seat. We sang duets all the way home, and arrived without mishap. Hip hip hurrah for an eventful exciting day. Now to clean my room... ta-ta, y'all!

Indian Summer

To our great delight, we had about 2 weeks of beautiful indian summer weather here, in the middle of winter. Last Sunday we went to the beach for some family time together, along with Luchi, Arcos and Rafa. We're so blessed!
Danny got Arcos a cute lil' pipe for his birthday last month--the two occasionally enjoy puffing and pretending to be grandfathers. Charming, as you see ...
The little hip flask affords a touch of serene elegance to any gentleman ....

To bring to the beach: mat'e, beach chairs, hip flask, pipe and filling, sand toys, and a picnic snack in the straw basket. And camera.

"A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou." --Omar Khayyam

Children's Day

Yup, and we sure celebrated in style, we did. Floppy's got a cold, and expenses are... well, expensive, skinny pocketbooks, etc, so we opted for a very simple little outing to Mar del Plata's central park, where there's a double-decker carousel. Whoever thought of that thing is probably very, very rich by now. I'm not sure if they usually allow the whole family to ride for the price of only one ticket, but, after all, it was children's day, and about a third of Mar del Plata's families were buzzing around, and nobody seemed to notice or care. As usual, Danny insisted on remaining safely behind the camera. Notice Floppy's latest goony grin... ain't she cute?

Family Outing

Today, in honor of Father's Day, we went to the theater to see Toy Story 3. Well, we wanted to, but the tickets were sold out until Thursday ... (Moral: call before dragging your kids out in the freezing cold...) Never mind, we decided to make an afternoon of it anyway. We needed to get some winter socks and jeans for our little beanstalk Floppy. So with baby in a snowsuit, harnessed to mommy's back, we braved downtown. Not much to see; everything closes from midday til about 4 or 5 p.m. In Mexico I think they call it siesta... (4 whole hours???)
Mar del Plata is a cute lil' city, no skyscrapers, and a perpetual chilly Atlantic wind blows. We were fortunate enough to overtake a military brass band parading down the street. Later, we caught the same band in the cathedral plaza, where an earnest young cadet gave a basso-profundo rendition of Sinatra's "I Did It My Way", in Spanish. Very beautifully executed, we thought. Danny and I were charmed, and after we left the crowd, we undertook to sing a harmonized duet of the same song (at top volume, heh), much to the puzzled delight of the pedestrian passers-by as we strolled down the near-deserted street. Danny and I plan to record an album together, one day.
The afternoon highlight was a joyous ride on a carousel.