thank you all for being parts of my bubbles, as well...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bubbly...

My first recollection of effervescence was when I was about five years old. I remembered that my brother and I were visiting our God mother and she offered us sodas.

Now, we grew up drinking nothing but water. No juice, no milk (well, we were breast fed but don't have recollections of those) and once in a long long while, we'd get a taste of soda: Sarsparillas, to be exact. it was one of those rare treats, not only because it was sweet and delicious, but also because I always enjoyed watching the soda foam while it was being poured into a tall glass on a hot summer's day.

As that dark nectar would start to cascade into the glass and the brown bubbles would rise, I often could not wait to to sip up the foams as soon as it was handed to me because I was afraid that I might not get to suck down as much of the bubbles as possible.

My brother seemed to enjoyed it as much as I did and we'd often throw in that satisfied grin toward each other while we sucked down that delicious froth as it tingled and popped in our mouths which would always be followed with goofy laughters. Somehow, the bubbles made us goofy....

Nothing seemed to matter while we sucked down and enjoyed the luscious drinks and all our troubles (if any) were left behind at that moment...

Some years later, sodas became easier and easier to come by for us. The effects of the bubbles seemed to have worn off a bit. But by then, I had discovered blowing into sodas with a straw.

It was a different kind of bubble, one that made the soda tasted nasty pretty quickly as it would lose its fizz. But some how, the bubbles still intrigued me as I would enjoy watching it form in the cup and watched it popping away my troubles into nowhere land...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was one of those days--- mother nature didn't know what she wanted to be. She started with a bit of a darkside by throwing an overcast of hundreds of cotton candy faces that lined the sky, then she let the sun came out for a few minutes but the impish clouds would soon find that was enough and blocked the sun with SPF 3000.

The rain drops chimed in for a few minutes here and there with its cameo appearances but could never seem to upstage any of its breathrens. The winds danced angrily most of the day but did calm itself in bits here and there...

A day of unpredicabilities...

I woke up that morning a bit unstable myself. The little grandson had been waking us up with heartbreaking tears throughout the night for the past couple of nights along with some raining of the bedsheets of his own.

Both da wife (a term of endearment that I call my dear lovely wife) and I had been a bit worn out by him.

But the designs of men and women truly shown during these "tests". A total trooper, she would be the first one to get up to hug, comfort and change him without any complaints and did it all with loving gazes and then she would get up at 5am and head to work after being restless the rest of the night.

All without a complaint.

I tried my very best to hang with her but it must be mother nature's idea to make men the inferior sex when it comes to parenting. Because while I tried my very best, I could never made it through without at least a little mumbling and grumbling.

That morning found me to be in a lot more pain than usual. My physical pains had been advancing a bit quicker than I anticipated. That along with the lack of sleep as of late brought to light another side of me: "Tenebrous Man" , I call him...

I am not a big "Longfellow" fan. His materials were required reading in school and I disquired it after I read it and gave report on it. But there was one sonnet/phrase that I retained through the years: "Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the cypress/Met in a dusky arch".

I remembered looking up the word tenebrous and said to myself, that's me...and in the years since then, Mr. Tenebrous Man would become my Mr. Hyde to make myself remember that sentence, I changed it to: Over their eggs easy, the towering ten neighbors bought the sod press/Met in Starsky and Hutch".

Maybe it's the day, maybe it was the night before, maybe it was just the way it was. But the kids started that day off less cherubic and more elfinic(wanted to use the word "devilish" but they are too cute to be consider hellions). Unpredicability was the theme that day.

Everything took longer than usual. Teeth brushing found them making paste bubbles while they tried to talk; hair brushing found the follicles fighting and strangling each other by the strands; even tasks as simple as putting the socks on, took on the seams not right on the toes thus creating chaotic moments for the little feet that brought defeat to my hands as I tossed them up in the air while I deeply sighed.

As the weather itself was being whimsically impish throughout the day, all of our moods swung in pendulum arcs along. I found myself short and terse and lacking patience. The kids must have felt that and found themselves in time outs more than usual.

It got so bad that at one point, I had forgotten that I had put one of them in time out and it was only when the other one reminded me that I remembered to go retrieve the poor little shortfellow( he might be Longfellow one day at the rate he's growing).

That day also found us in a bit of catching up with errands and for some strange reason, I would always forget to unbuckle one of them with each stop. What made me even more perturbed was that instead of telling me before I would pull out of the parking space/lot. They would wait until I was well down the road before whomever I'd forgotten to lock up would remind me, "Pappo, you forgot to buckle me..."

Not sure whether to laugh, cry, or panic about getting pulled over by a cop, I'd pull over quickly while glaring at them with big bulging bubbling boiling pupils.

We pulled over to McDonald's and ordered some happy meals . Chocolate milk was part of the deal if they would behave.

On our way home, while they dug into their lunches, I could hear laughter coming from behind me. They were both blowing bubbles into their chocolate milk. I was not sure what it was that made them giggled about it. My first inclination was to ask them to stop because I didn't wanted them to make a mess.

But I hesitated...

And as I listened to their laughters, it was "bubbly" with each blowing sound they were making into the milk bottle. Such simple pleasure from such a simple act. That pure innocence that I had long forgotten. It was something that my brother and I used to do to our sodas...

I felt my anger effervescing and disappearing as I enjoyed their laughters the rest of the way home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not sure when it started but the kids are now finding bodily noises particularly funny. Making gas noises from both orifices had become an endless and longest running joke amongst them.

Of course, they are smart enough to always following it with an: Excuse me !!

But I know THAT "excuse me" was just to cover up the churlish act that they'd just performed.

They'd discovered how to get away with murder. Because we made the mistake of telling them that they need to say excuse me when the burps and flatulences would come and then that it was O.K.

And it is not like they can help by STOPPING it. Because, after all, not even I, an adult, can control those functions.

So now, they have found the trick to dispense these gases without getting reprimanded from us.

OK, I can live with that.

The problem is that ,NOW, I have to say excuse me ALL the time also... for over 20 years, I don't think I'd had to apologize for passing gas or burping in my own home.

But now, I am finding myself saying "excuse me" quite often. And I am finding that quite annoying.

The other issue is that these kids have a super sense of hearing, WHEN IT COMES TO GAS. It's funny how when they are watching TV or playing, they can NEVER EVER hear me when I would call them. Even after a hundred times...no reply.

But try burping or let one rip while I am in the kitchen while they are in their own rooms and they'll come rushing out and say it with a big grin: "Pappo, you forgot to say excuse me!!"

"But you were not in the room!"

"But I heard you!!"

grrrrrrr "Alrighty..." I would hang my head in defeat, "excuse me...." (eyes rolling...)

Of course, we all know that in order to teach children good manners, we, the "adults" have to set good examples ourselves.

So, there was no way out of this one...

BEANO® has now become a regular on our grocery list...because if I have to apologize about 50 times a day again for "bubbling"....I think I would....

....Burst....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was always envious of the kids who could afford the bubbles in our classes. I can remember asking my mother if we could buy some and she would always give us a tale about why we couldn't afford the bubbles.

Whether it was because elephants in India needed them to bathe in and we should save it for them or Turkish folks would need them for their baths. There was always a reason why we couldn't afford to buy bubbles.

One day, I went to one of my classmates' house. He taught me how to make bubbles. He chipped off some laundry soap and placed them in warm water and then added a dash of shampoo (which was also NOTcheap back then) to it and voila, we'd get our own bubbles.

We also made our own straws out of our notebook papers. Although we went through the papers like crazy, we discovered that we could make bigger bubbles by making the cones wider.

I couldn't wait to get back home to show my brother the new trick. As soon as I got home, I dragged him along with the laundry soap. That big brown rectangular block along with my mom's favorite shampoo.

One thing I didn't figure in was HOW much shampoo. So I squeezed what I had thought was an adequate amount (which was nearly half the bottle). We got excited as the spume formed and as it got bigger and bigger, we got more and more excited...

However, when we tried our "straws" with it, we couldn't get any bubbles out. I was thoroughly embarassed and decided to pour even more shampoo in (the rest of the bottle).

By now, that water looked liked the "BLOB" and could swallow us both up. Even worse, we could not blow any bubbles with it.

Disappointed, I dumped it all out into the sink. But when I ran the water to run it down, it started to foam up the sink. I was now scared and didn't know what to do (hold that thought before you say it out loud) and I started to panic.

My brother started to run for our room and I just bursted into tears. (now you can say it, TURN OFF THE WATER, IDIOT!!!!)

Luckily, my mom came home soon at some point after that and turned off the faucet. We got spanked and I never got to make homemade bubbles again.

But I did get to play it at my classmates house, though... He lived in a very tall, towering apartment complex and we were allowed to go all the way up to the roof.

We would take our bubble mix and our arsenal of straws, each one good for about 3-5 blows. And would blow bubbles and watch it travel down.

Rarely, does one make it all the way down but once in awhile, when one would, we would yell and shout out in joy.

Whenever the sun would reflect the bubbles and dress it with rainbow colors, I could feel my heart soar with the bubbles and all my troubles would float away with it until it bursts.

Each bubble carried an agitation, or a smile, or a tear, or simple happiness, all mixed into legions of bubbles each carrying out its own mission. And with each burst, it took us away...somewhere unknown that only happiness was known...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After lunch that day, I was not sure what happened but I started to get a bit moody again, just like the capricious climates outside...

Maybe it was the pain that was getting to me. Maybe it was the haze that I have been feeling as of late.

I cannot seem to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes. Things that would usually take me a few minutes to complete would now take me 10 times more to accomplish. Annoyance seemed my best companion anymore as I could NOT get myself out of this self-disgusted rut...

I stared out the porch as the rain drizzled gently onto the pavement of our driveway. The kids were looking out the porch as well...bored out of their minds because they couldn't go out and play and I was too exhausted to read to or play with them.

The three of us just stared out the screened porch and the two of them started to converse in their own universe. Every little thing was capturing their attentions. From the birds that would come to our feeders to the geckos that was hidden behind the posts.

But I was still quite annoyed even though somewhere deep within, I was quite enjoying their conversation because it was---bubbly...

Our friends, Steve and Katherine, had brought over some bubbles in a long tube awhile back for the kids and I recalled that he told me to use it for "one of those days".
When the rain stopped, those words popped into my head... I got all three of us outside. I took the wand out of the tube and could see a giant soapy film waiting to be born into a bulbous rotound sphere...

As I glided the wand into the wind and multiple giant bubbles began to dance and float and fly into the air...

bubbles of anger, angst, anguish, frustrations and pain...POOF...as they dispersed and popped in the sky...only to be followed by bubbles of laughters that could only be created.....by those with the age of innocence...