“In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.”

There's this store in Bellflower, the Holland American Store, that I love to go to. It's kind of in the ghetto, but it's only about 15 minutes away from my office... I should visit more often, but... since I usually skip lunch, I just don't get to.

I made a special trip there this week for my dad's birthday... I specifically was looking for spekkoek, but unfortunately, they were sold out until next month. Grrr. But I did find some other goodies, like....

...these super rad clog slippers. Don't you want some?
And my favorite thing to eat for breakfast, ever, chocolate sprinkles, for toast. How could you go wrong?!
They have sambal for days.... We are too wussy for the crazy spicy stuff, so we typically go with sambal bajak.
Krupuk? I think I will! Who knew shrimp flavored chips would be so good?

I don't know really what rum-flavored chocolate balls have to do with Dutch or Indonesian. I mean, the package even says "Jamaica Rummy's". But they are hella tasty.
These stupid things are dangerous. I will eat the package in its entirety, so it's really best that I just leave them on the shelf.
If you like licorice, which I don't, this is the place to go... literally, entire rows of shelves dedicated to different types of licorice. Ick.
They have some pretty random stuff, too, like this tamarind flavored balsamic glaze? I was skeptical about this stuff, maybe next time I'll give it a shot.
They've also got heaps of Dutch cheeses, which are super rad, and freezer cases of other Indonesian treats, like lemper (rice rolls, filled with a chickeny coconutty stuff), and other good stuff that I can't spell.

I love going there, it always reminds of how super psyched I was when Oma and Opa would have spekkoek to share, or brought home chocolate sprinkle things from Holland.... I think I'm out of chocolate sprinkles already, it might be time for another trip. Soon.

“Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean.”

Like I mentioned yesterday, my grandparents were Dutch-Indonesian. They did a lot of the raising of me - mainly because my Opa was a nut who wouldn't let us eat dinner at home, and would hijack us despite my mother's protests. By and large, that was totally okay by me... mom canNOT cook. We grew up living with them off and on, until I was 16. After I got married, and had #1, my tiny family and I moved back in with Oma to help take care of her. After Opa passed, she was... lost. She didn't know how to write a check, she didn't know what a debit card was, she couldn't drive... She needed help, and wasn't willing to leave the house Opa built for her when they immigrated. So. There it was. We had a super awesome time living there, and my husband was totally one of her favorite people ever.

Eventually, we moved out and my parents moved in, and there she stayed...in the house Opa built, for the rest of her life. She had a ridiculous amount of faith... Like, ridiculous. I could never. I'm too uppity and impatient and cynical for that faith nonsense. But she did... and I wish I could, 'cause she was the most gentle, calming person I've ever known.

She was super awesome, and today is her birthday. I ought remember her more often, 'cause... dude. NOTHING I've had to complain about in my life compares to stuff SHE dealt with. So, in honor... Oma is Awesomeness, and I'm gonna stop whining about my lack of organic potatoes.

Happy Birthday, Oma!