DEXTER

Sometimes(if not most of the time) we fail to notice people that could really inspire us, so many of them are out there. For the people of my hometown, Ambassador Tublay Benguet, Dexter is the peddler they buy their 'puto' (rice cakes), 'kutchinta'(another rice delicacy), fish or 'pinapaitan's' (type of stew) ingredients.

Before everyone starts their day, Dexter would ride the jeep from Baguio City with his heavy two containers full of stuff to sell. He'll stop by at Km 21 or 22 then walks back the road carrying his goods until it's all disposed. He usually gets to our place, km 18, half full and almost empty during lucky days.

Then at late afternoon, he's back walking the Halsema Road with 'balut'(boiled egg with nearly developed embryo) and 'chicharon'(deep fried pork skin).

It is the laughter Dexter will crack out from you that will win you in buying. I had a taste of it when we had our December vacation in the Philippines. He saw my camera and said my sisters Ica and Jehan(who are also here in Italy) will finally see how he looks after years of missing his 'chicharon' and 'kutchinta'(another rice delicacy). Then he striked me a pose (please see photo above) and blurted, "Oh baka magkalat yan sa Internet. Ok lang, pang artista naman"(That might be all over the net. Its ok, I look like a celebrity anyway).

There are so many Dexters we can not "see". No Brad Pitt kind of life but with an extra ordinary tenacious grip on holding it out there. Salamat sa mga taong katulad nyo'(Thanks to people like you). Indeed, he is a celebrity! Cheers to him and his "deserving moment" to be on the Internet!

CHRISTMAS AT HOME 2009 (PART 3)

Not much of a confession that could make it to the tabloid, but me and my husband, got keyed up when we read an announcement on the net about a Christmas climb to Mt. Pulag. Still in Italy that time, I was already seeing myself posing for Boogie's camera with that majestic colors of dawn, dreamy white cotton clouds and golden or green grasses behind me. Was looking forward too on ascending for the first time and luckily, with my dear husband. "How is it to sleep in a tent and get cosy in a sleeping bag?", played my mind.

Aside from the feeling that we are going to be climbers soon (or just me), we became compulsive buyers and took turns to Decathlon and shop for our gears. Tent, sleeping bag, waterproof jackets, sweaters and my best found, a hiking pair of shoes I love wearing now - its so comfortable and very warm. Its winter here and most of the time snowing but these shoes could really walk the cold.

We even thought of purchasing a portable camping stove but didn't. We thought it's fuel might not be allowed on our flight.

We also tried our best to work out and did our running more than the usual before we left Venice. Then the aching muscles as we continued to jog the stairs of Wright Park up to the Mansion and round Mines View till we get back to our place in Ambuklao Road, were reminders of worst body aches we will soon experience if we don't prepare physically.

The drama, if I may say hahaha....

AN IBALOI NIPA HUT IN PILOY,BABATAN

Byd, one of the organizers, informed us a week before the trip that they have 260 participants and they had to close the registration. "Oh men, just think of them going for that morning call, Mt Pulag will be in deep s---, I mean poop!", I keep telling everyone who knew we will be joining. "POOR MOUNTAIN", put in two words. Then I called Byd that we are cancelling.

From Pacdal, we went home to Tublay instead and Boogs went down to Babatan(click this : musashiboogie for his article published in Sun Star). When he got back and me with the kids, my sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews from playing at the school down my fathers house, we packed our lunch and decided to have a picnic up the only mountain near our home that was left from erotions and road widening.

It was a better climb, I was not just with my husband but so with my little boys. Though, I had to carry Dylan to the steep and bushy foot trail. And, I was also scared all the time because the old mountain where we used to play, was literally half ruined by landslides. We had to take the long way, the shorter one eroded.

Some people still make use of the fast route but its literally walking into the ravine. I was constantly shouting at Lukie and my brother Tan-tan to slow down because the right side of the trail was another haunting ravine. The boys and my husband (who is holding the tripod, our food, water and all the cameras) were getting irritated with my squeaking voice reminding every one to take care, watch out and wait up.

It was good to see again the "pulot", a plant that sticks to your clothes. Dylan had a tiny cut when he pulled a kind of a grass that has sharp leaves(forgt the name). I told my boys that we used go up there, watch the sunset, look for wild berries and just lye down there on the grass. It was fun for them even though the place wasn't the same anymore.

The hot-dog, corn beef and eggs lunch was extra-ordinary as the hot rice complimented it. Just like the old days, even simple food up there is so delicious. Truly the best picnic for Dylan and Lukie. And so it is with me, even the ("best-est" if there is only such a word). Not everyone is lucky to do what he used to do when he was young with his very own kids.

At the end, I was very glad I did not go to Mt Pulag. With our remaining 13 days of stay where we can't figure how to fit all our remaining agendas. I was able to walk back the steps of my childhood and how refreshing, happy and fulfilling it felt. Makes you thank how life had been good to you.

The GREAT fun of the the day did not end yet. Of which we should have missed, if we were added to the 300 participants of the "A December To Remember". That night, I went out on a date for the first time with all the significant gentlemen known to me... to be continued....

NOTE: All our pix on the mountain were over exposed so we had to edit it. Boogs forgot how to set his SLR after toying with his Diana F+...

CHRISTMAS AT HOME 2009 (PART 2)

For Lukie, Burnham Park is the park with many children. For me its where every Baguio kid had his or her photo taken. Of which, it got me wondering where had all the old photographers gone, as I was writing this. A thought came too that a child may had gone to school, became a doctor, a lawyer or a nurse and tributes his or her success from his or her father taking pictures at the park. It would be a very beautiful story aside from the childhood memories dear to us of having been a part of this place.

It was newly renovated. I think the see-saws and that big circle sort of a swing is being preserved, considering it as historical heritage like the two elephants. Still there, they just refreshed the paint. Maybe it would be better if they cover all the ground with pebbles or sand because green grasses can't seem to grow. More or less, I hope the city government will continue to take care of the park. They're not only giving laughters to a child but also giving back to the site that once gave them smiles.

Here are some of our photos from our point and shoot. Lucky for our kids to play where their Mama and Papa used to run around. Thanks to Baguio people concerns, Burnham Park is still there.

5 PEOPLE

I'm not sure if it was in Oprah's Show, where I first came to know, about this idea of finding "the five people" who made a difference in your life and tell them, "thank you". With the exemption of immediate family of course, they will always be the first on the list. You can do it through letters or by simply uttering these two words. Then like a chain, request these five persons to do the same.

He or she could be your teacher, an author, a dear friend, an enemy etc... Some might even be a total stranger, a passers by, yet they had taught you a life lesson you will forever cherish.

I really love the idea. Not only that you'll make someone happy, but also the positive aura of contributing something good in this world.

Lucky are those who were able to find their heroes. Their exemplars who could still hear their words, who could still feel the joy and see what they have become. Some are not lucky enough and their "thank yous" were left hanging on air longing to be heard. I will forever feel sorry for my self if I will not grab the chance to say mine.

My husband wrote a piece for her ailing teacher, Mrs. Clarita Sumahit, in this article: My Morrie. Me and my sons thank her too for the great help he once gave to the most significant person in our life who said in his "The Weaver Fish" this phrase, "....that life brings us all sorts of pain. And that we learn from our sufferings, we grow from our agony, we endure the wretchedness even though it would mean that we might loose the ones we love".

In my own little way, I'd like to start saying how grateful I am to these "5 people": Sir Ren, Manang Marlene, My best friend Brenda, Emilio and Auntie Gloria. A letter for each one of you, I hope to compose.

IRISH

In this photo, my third sister Irish is with our step-mom, Auntie Zabeth. It was taken during her wedding, December 2008. Irish is the last of my five siblings to get married. Noeda (another sis) sent me a text that our newly wed sister and her husband, Do', are 6 weeks pregnant. Best wishes to them both and congratulations also to Irish for passing the recent Nurses' Board exam!

When we were kids, during some week ends, my Dad would ask us to sing one by one after dinner. Just like what their father used to do. Irish sang or did a Rap of 'Mga Kababayan Ko'(by Francis Magalona, bless his soul). Me and my other sisters were hiding our giggles. Sure, we also do Rap but not in front of our father who grew with the music of Nat King Cole or Elvis Presley.

Laughter could no longer be contained. So we, the cruel sisters, let it out. Poor Irish cried. Then we stopped. The room stood silent and Dad got angry at us.

Daddy, who is disappointed with his other daughters, tried to console Irish. "May kadi, ituloy mo! Mayat et yan (Come on, continue. Its really good)", he said. Then he also started to Rap, "Mga Kababyan ko... Dapat lang malaman nyo...Ako ay Pilipino..." Irish with her widest smile, showing her perfect white set of teeth, started her "song" all over again.

P.S. This is OT. Nursing Board Exam November 2008 Topnotcher, Jovie Ann Alawas Decoyna, was Irish's class and group mate. According to my sister Jovie is not only academically superb but also a very good person. "She's not selfish to help when you didn't understand the lesson" Irish said on the phone. Its just amazing! A real Igorota from Bakun Benguet, "the cream of the crop"... what an honor to our humble tribe!

CAMOTE JOURNAL(lol)

Remember my MAMA'S "CAMO TOPS"? It thrived and fed my soul hehehe... The original plan was to make a "diary" for my dear Camote. (Not my 'butoys'(lost translation hehehe...CALVES) that someone once referred to as, "the wrath of the Igorot tribe").


Will someone remind me of sticking to my topic...Okey Camote, I planted 10 shoots last spring but because it was always raining, it died. Its good I left some stems on the mother Camote just to make sure that I'll have seedlings if my first attempt will not "survive".

I planted the remaining shoots last June with the petunias that just grew from a pot I left out last winter. These Petunias wildly sprig every year for me since I planted it four years ago. They just sprout when summer is near and all I have to do is transfer them when they've grown about 2 inches high.

Our neighbor, Manong George told me that the Camote is ready and asked why aren't we taking the leaves. He said we should do so because it will allow more shoots to grow. I told him I didn't know and immediately do what he "advised".

I didnt expect I could "harvest"(hehehe) half a bag while Manong George asked for the stems and took home to plant.

My once abandoned Camote - now in its "glory" with tomatoes, lemon juice and 'bagoong'(fish sauce). Sarap talaga pag fresh!

MERMAID'S PURSE

I am always awe struck to how amazing different creatures come into existence. Like these sharks called dogfish we just saw from Italy's biggest Aquarium, Sea Life, found in Verona.

Same as full term human babies, it takes nine moths for these sharks to hatch. Into the sea, the mother dogfish lays her eggs and leaves the babies to take care of themselves.

Inside these natural incubator called "mermaid's purse" are the tiny baby shark which is about the size of a finger nail.

At Sea Life, each stage of the baby shark's development were put in different aquariums. I thought they were corals till I've read the descriptive labels. My regret is not to take note of the months corresponding each of these pictures that my husband took.

These tough leathery casing of the mermaid's purse protects the babies from predators. It could also hide the egg from seaweeds with it's camouflaging effect.
The darker the color of the casing means the young is less developed

Then here are the babies out of the mermaid's purse which are still blind on their first days.

Till they grow and become this big.

HE WENT TO MEET "THE BIG PRESS"

Last night, I was surprised to see my blog counter sored high in a span of two hours. Intrigued why my old post - A MUST READ about Tim Russert's ‘Wisdom of Our Fathers had led 30 persons on the said entry, I googled "Tim Russert" and found out he passed two hours earlier. Full story here: NBC's Tim Russert dies at 58.

We join all the people who were inriched by his wisdom. In peace may he rest, we pray.

Remembering the life of Tim Russert

By Michael Gartner, Special to USA TODAY
Michael Gartner was president of NBC News from 1988-1993.

He was a senior executive – an inside guy, a go-to guy, an idea guy – when I joined NBC News as president in 1988. He had a background in politics, and a few months after I signed on I asked him to head the Washington bureau. He didn't want to leave New York and thought he was being shoved aside, but he very reluctantly agreed

In Washington, he quickly re-established old contacts – he had worked for Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan, and he seemed to know half the town – and increasingly the morning news conferences at NBC were filled with his inside stories of this, his analyses of that and his predictions of this and that. He was always right.

Tim," I said to him one day a year or so later, "the news call isn't supposed to be more interesting than the news shows. We've got to get across on the air the stuff you're telling us every morning. You should be on the air."

"No way," he said.

Eventually, he agreed to go on the Today show periodically to talk politics with his equally knowledgeable friend Al Hunt, at the time Washington bureau chief for The Wall Street Journal, and, later, as an occasional panelist on the sagging Meet the Press show. But Russert remained mainly an inside guy, an unseen face, a choreographer of coverage.

Finally, I told him he should be – had to be – the moderator of Meet the Press, which wasn't doing well.

"No way," he said again.

We argued. We debated. We fought. He raised objections, I shot them down. At the end, he said, "Look, I can't do it. I'm ugly." "Well, I said with a laugh, I can't argue that one (he had a chubby face that looked like it was made out of Play-Doh) but I'm not looking for a handsome guy, I'm looking for a smart one." Finally, he agreed, and in 1991 he became moderator of the show.

I had some sweatshirts made up with his picture on the front. "Tim Russert," they said, "Not just a pretty face." He was, eventually, amused.

He was made for the job. His training from the Jesuits had sharpened his mind, his lessons from his father had instilled his values, his life in politics had widened his knowledge, and his training as a lawyer had honed his questioning. The show was almost an overnight success, and soon we expanded it to a full hour. Then he — and it — took off.

He used old-fashioned tools in a new-fashioned industry. He used a chalkboard like a coach. He put words – words, of all things! – on the screen to make his point. He was as tough as he was fair, as demanding of himself as he was of his guests. He prepared for each show as if it was a final exam.

Most of all, he was believable. That face turned out to be what my father called "an affidavit face." You looked at him, and you just knew he was telling you the truth.

The show made him rich and famous. I don't know how rich, but a few years ago, when he signed a new, long-term contract with NBC, he called me up to tell me, and he remembered his reluctance about taking the job. He laughed, and he said: "I thank you. My wife thanks you. My son thanks you. And my unborn grandchildren, however many there will be, thank you." It must have been a good deal.

But no matter how rich and famous he became, he always came across on television as a nice guy – who couldn't like a guy who loved Buffalo and who wished his dad Happy Father's Day on the air? – but he was more than nice. He was kind, he was caring, and he was generous

A few years ago, I called him and asked if he'd make a big speech in Des Moines, where I live. It was part of a lecture series at Drake University. I knew he was in great demand, I said, but I asked if he'd do it as a favor for me. "They'll pay you $30,000," I added. He didn't think twice. "I'll do it under one condition," he said. "The $30,000 goes to that program for kids that is Christopher's memorial."

Christopher was one of my sons, and he idolized Tim. Christopher died in 1994, at age 17, from an initial attack of juvenile diabetes. I had left NBC by then, but within hours of Christopher's death the phone rang at home in Des Moines. It was Russert. I was in tears, and he seemed to be, too. He expressed his deep sorrow, and then he said:

"Look, if God had come to you 17 years ago and said, 'I'll make you a bargain. I'll give you a beautiful, wonderful, happy and healthy kid for 17 years, and then I'll take him away, you would have made that deal in a second."

He was right, of course, that was the deal. I just didn't know it.

As it turns out, there was a similar deal – the terms were 58 years – with Tim.
We just didn't know it.

But we – his family, his friends, his guests and his viewers, all of us so enriched by him – would have made it in a second.

LUKIE AND DYLAN'S GARDALAND TREAT

Still toiling to regain my "normal state". I'm glad there are pictures to do the talking. It was a fun get away although the weather was playing on us, for a second it would rain then later the sun would prick us with it's heat. The kids loved their treat specially Lukie who keeps on saying, "Che bella vita!"(What a beautiful life).

Before we went into this trip, Lukie had been anticipating to ride the roller coaster they called "Mammut" at Gardaland. His Papa rode with him but Lukie got scared and cried after. He keeps on saying it was a mistake riding it. Lunch calmed him down and said he doesn't want to get into any rides anymore. We went to watch the Hollywood Dreams musical show and he forgot his 'Mammut' nightmare. Then we went to see the dolphins at PalaBlu and Festival On Ice.

Little Dylan had been a little adult even during the shows and the boat ride into the jungle. How he steals the attention of the crowd, I'll tell it more on my next post.

THE FATHER IN THEM

BlogPatrol, the traffic blog counter of this site tells me that Yahoo and Google Search had been leading net surfers here with "Felix Cabading" as the tag. Three from Canada, ten from the USA had visited us already and more are yet to come.

To us all, what a great lost of a friend, a relative, a father and how ever we may consider him. For my prior post here: MY UNCLE FISCAL FELIX CABADING , I'm sorry for not writing that Uncle Felix died of massive heart attack.
I'm sorry for not pointing up that he is Benguet's Provincial Persecutor.
That he was once an aspiring priest at the Saint Francis Seminary.
I did not tell you how he loves his Kalanguya culture. The tribe he was very proud of and in any way he can, tried to foster.
My apology for not enumerating all his achievements in line with his profession.
The list goes on for the many things I should and must have written.

I can only write why I held him close with the memories I want to remember such as these:

My father got preoccupied with our health when my mom died. Six girls he takes in turn for medical check up at Notre Dame Hospital. We always see uncle Felix who also takes any of his children to the doctor. So with our old family dentist, My Dad and Uncle Felix are regular "stage fathers" at Dra. Cutiyog's clinic. Most of the time, after our appointments, we give Uncle Felix a lift because he doesn't have a car.

Sometimes, he surprises us and arrives at our door in Tublay with his wide grin. He and my Dad would stay outside our home talking seriously while my Dad massages his fighting roosters. I wish I knew what they were conversing about. Dark falls and Uncle Felix would sleep over and always uses my old room.

Christian is one of his son who graduated from PMA. Among Uncle's Felix' children, only him became close to us and my sisters. When he was sent to Mindanao for his first assignment, his father always speaks of his worries and fears for his son. Missing him makes it even worse.

When I was in Malta, my sister Sharon phoned me that Christian's troop was ambushed. Uncle Felix who was holding back his tears as he tells my Dad, he had dreamt of his son before the incident. He continued that during the encounter, Christian was spared by the dead bodies of his troops that covered him. He got unconscious from his wounds and the enemy left knowing everyone was killed.


The Military man Christian had become is my Uncle's pride but frails him as a father. He would always and always talk fondly of his son when ever he sees my Dad or my late Uncle Alex, his co-seminarian back in the old days. Even when his son Christian got married, he came to my dad and asked him to go with him at his son's wedding in Mindanao. "Naka embaeng ngay ni naikamangan Christian, andi numan e maipanlastog ko"(Makes me shy facing Christian's in laws, I have no wealth to brag), he once said.

That's I guess the father in him...in them, always thinking they are not giving enough to their kids when they had given their all. Like my Dad said, "Felix and I may not be good husbands but our children matter most. We are not perfect but we are trying".

MY UNCLE FISCAL FELIX CABADING

In loving memory....

Atty: Felix T. Cabading June14,1948 - May 13, 2008

As a little girl, I thought his name was Fiscal. People call him that and I did too. Which, my Dad often corrects me, "Its Uncle Felix...!". But, I grew up calling him, "Uncle Cabading", and still was corrected to say, "Uncle Felix".

It was his beautiful eyes with the shade of brown so light or hazel sometimes, aside from his mestizo looks, made me want to be related to him. Its what we are NOT that we want to become, I convince myself on this part hahaha...

Wednesday morning, I received a text message from my sister that Uncle Fiscal is gone. May 13, 2008, he was called by the Greater Fiscal above. He was 60 years old.

I want to knock myself off for not writing this piece while he was still around to read it. He deserves to be "written". Not because he is my Dad's cousin from my grandmother's side of Buguias Benguet but for being a fair, honest, humble good hearted public servant. The ideal traits of a lawyer - a judge, that this world needed in more amount.

"Sig-ato bangat e Fiscal a agbinmak-baknang"(HE IS THE ONLY FISCAL WHO DID NOT GET RICH), my father often tells us and with that I often doubt if he is really a lawyer. Back when I was in college, our cousins from Trading Post in La Trinidad had to "pass the hat" to collect money for his medications. He had a heart surgery back then.

One thing I remember most was when my Dad came home after his visit from the hospital. He said, "Ay apo numan si Felix, maasyanak ngay. Naalambrian ima napugsat a tsinelas tu. Enak intunggalan adi."(How I pity Felix. His slippers(flip-flops) were tied with wires. I went to buy him a new pair). Then my Dad said he feels embarrassed for my Uncle Fiscal when great lawyers and politicians see him with those old and "wired" 'tsinelas'.

Maybe he is the only Fiscal who doesn't have a car. My Dad often ends up to be his driver and also our many other cousins with their vegetable hauling vehicles. From trucks, to elf and jeeps. Uncle Fiscal too, believes its cheaper to have friends than to own a car - just like my father in law.

My sister's husband was swindled with a car-napping scam and God knows, in clear conscience, he is absolutely innocent. Her Aunt who's helping him had already paid almost half a million for this case. She went to Uncle Felix and told him, instead of paying those corrupt "public servants", why don't he get the money and help fix the mess himself. " 'Padrino' system will surely help", she added. Then my uncle said, "Natken taku met ngamin aramid sa. Pasensya."(That's is not what we are used to. I'm sorry.) and gave her legal advices instead.

I hurt for my Dad. losing a cousin who is more than a brother is heart wrecking. For the passed two months, Uncle Felix had been tagging along with my Dad every Saturday and goes everywhere my Daddy goes. He texts or calls him saying, "Dagasen yu ak a"(come and fetch me). Now we know, it was his way of saying his farewell.

So much more to tell but it all leads to a person who died a poor man who is wealthy of wisdom and good principles. Still, he leaves my father feeling small during my uncle's wake, "Piman si Felix, his house was not even double walled and its not painted."... And for all these, I am more than proud to be related to him.

__________________________________________________

Fiscal's body lays at their residence at Kesbing, La Trinidad Benguet. He will be finally laid to rest in his hometown, Kapangan Benguet on Wednesday, May 20, 2008

FLORICOLTURA DA NATASCIA

I thought of narrating this entry with Lukie blogging. I have to give it to him, posing for my clicks with out the usual bribe of Haribo or Mentos. Overstimulated(hehehe) by pollens, perhaps.

Here are some or our flower talks and shots. Its the time of the year for it's turn to flourish. If only I could upload all our flower pictures...it would be "tending" exaggeration(lol) so I forced my self not to.

The flu season gave us a full blow before summer will completely take over. I caught it first when we went to Lukie's Pediatrician for his Medical Certificate (a school requirement before he goes back after his Chicken "Pops"). I thought it was just an allergy (pollen "springs") because at the same day, we went to buy flowers from Natascia. We're all fine now, except for Dylan who's in medication for mild Bronchitis.

Less than ten minutes walk from our home, there's these greenhouses for vegetables and two(greenhouse) were set aside for flowers. Which during spring and summer, they open for business. Its a small flower farm with an aura of - the owner just wants to share her hobby.
I asked Natascia what's the name of her 'negozio'(business) and told her I'll blog about it. "Floricultura Da Natascia", she told me.


She's one SuperMom. Before heading home, it was kind of her to drop all the plants we bought. Then another sack of soil and more plants the next day with her sleek car, a Mercedes Benz, not fit for dirt hehehe.

Natascia amazed me when she lifted the 15 kilos sack of soil from her car and I told her to wait for me as I was coming out of the house. We both laughed when I told her, "mama mia, che forte"(how strong)! She was even sorry for bringing it late because she has to water the plants, go shop for their food and get the kids from school. HooWaa! She's got all the right to be late for me hehehe....


Next post would be our flowers at home. See you there!

UP CAME THE SUN

It had been raining today after teasing us with a sunny and cool week end. Our weather is undecided if it wants to be spring or a "displaced autumn". It should have started to warm up last month but was gloomy and the rain falls most of the time.

My family can't wait for summer, so, we dragged the season last Sunday. It must be the sun, everyone was out like thieves taking advantage of the freedom from the verge of a long winter.

These are some of the reasons why we are all rooting for the warm and bright sun to finally make up it's mind and stay. And, we all did and had it last Sunday.


Barbecue which Lukie associates with "festa"(party). He will ask whose birthday it is every time the grill is smoking. He also adds, "are we having friends?"

Little Dylan gets the bone and he stays quiet savoring every grease hehehe...

Spring cleaning slows down blogging and these has to be painted before hanging the geraniums.

Our walks at the beach specially moon watching at night. Just don't mind the sand on the bed so rough even though every one took a bath before jumping in.

At least Dylan knew now that the 'sabia' (sand) is not edible. Unlike last year, you can hear him with that 'eeky' sound grinding it with his teeth.

More outdoor activities for the kids to help mamsy and papsy shake off those fats.

One of the best part... for Lukie(lol)... is the 'gelato' (ice cream). Strawberry ding-dang doo, chocolate and stracciatella, YUM- YUMmmm.

Dylan says he wants ice cream too as he cries with out tears and turns green like Incredible Hulk.

Lukie and his fading chicken "pops" doesn't want to share his "icy" saying, "Dylan is still a little boy, he doesn't know!"

You can't get enough of so many things to do this coming months. Then it just passes so fast and you'll never know, winter is here again.