Greetings!

I just heard from my big sister Sandy who lives in Kona by email. 

She had looked for the June entries on this site's index page. Finding none, she wondered if, perhaps, she was simply not able to access them. Nothing's wrong with her computer.  

I'll explain my absence:

I love "homemade":

Homemade soup. Homemade dinners. Homemade pizza. Homemade salad dressings. Homemade pies. Homemade baked goods. Homemade afghans. Homemade bread. Homemade scarves.  Homemade sweaters. Homemade cards.  Homemade sugar scrubs.  Homemade bath balms.

I embrace the thought that the best gifts are homemade, as they come from the heart, and they warm the heart. They carry their makers' energy -- Hawaiians call it mana -- and Aloha.  

Homemade gifts have heart and soul.

My sister Sandy and I grew up during our parents' hardship days. Back then, our parents were a young couple raising two little girls and struggling to pay the mortgage on the house, while investing any extra dollars back into our entrepreneurial father's farming ventures.

To save money, our Mom even made our panties out of fabric scraps on her trusty sewing machine in the basement. There was nothing flimsy or subtle about our sturdy, cotton panties. Boldly patterned and colorful, I thought they were far more attractive than the boring store-bought panties.

Our parents' shoestring budget allowed for very few "bought" gifts, even for our birthdays. In hindsight, it was a good thing that I was not showered with bought gifts, as I developed a keen appreciation for homemade gifts.

As a kid, fried chicken made me ecstatically happy. 

Mom grew up in the country, and her parents -- Grandfather Muraichi and Grandmother Miyako -- raised chickens, primarily to produce eggs for their bakery and restaurant. From time to time, for family dinners and gatherings, Grandfather Muraichi would slaughter chickens that were poor egg layers.  

As the oldest daughter, Mom's job was to help pluck and dress the chickens. She became sensitized to "that chicken smell" and as an adult, never again ate chicken.  

Unsurprisingly, chicken dinners were true rarities in our home. Literally, treats!  

Chicken!

Once a year, Mom would set aside her aversion of  "that chicken smell" to fry up a platter full of scrumptious chicken for my birthday dinner. I felt like I was on top of the world!  Savoring every bite, I thought Mom's chicken dinner was the best birthday present ever. 

Even then, I knew that it was a thoughtful gift of Aloha from her to me.

Now back to why there have been no June entries:

Homemade is time-consuming, and most, if not all, of this week's free moments have been occupied with the making of a gift for a friend.

Her name is Gylene. 

With grit and determination, Gy fulfilled a hard-earned goal and I wanted to commemorate her accomplishment in a personal, country-hearted way. Like me, she grew up in the country, in Wahiawa on the island of O`ahu. 

Instead of only bought gifts, I also wanted to gift Gy with something that came from my heart and mind, made with my hands, and infused with my Aloha for her.  

Something homemade. Just like Mom's chicken dinner.  

This is what I made:  

Very 21st century and techy, yes, but 100% homemade.