Maid A, please pray for her

Last Friday, Maid A asked to be brought to the doctor -- she was having intense dysmennorhea. Doctor in the past had told her that her frequent periods were an indication of menopause. He suggested doing a D&C but Maid A demurred. She is scared of doctors and is hypertensive, she said. But the pain last Friday must have been so bad she asked to see a doctor.

So she and Maid B went to one in UP and were told to go to Capitol Medical. They texted me they were on their way there. They went and when the doctor suggested she undergo some tests, etc. she said she preferred to go to Quirino Hospital in Project 4 which is nearer the house. She did that at around 2:30.

Around 4:30 I called the Medical Director's Office, she being the mother of my husband's former students. She was out but I think the secretary did manage to call ER to attend to Maid A. But by 7:30, the results of her tests weren't out so they didn't prescribe any medication. She was in pain and was feeling weak.

Around 10, I decided to call the doctor in charge of her. Dr. Guevarra. Very pleasant. I asked what was going on and she explained that the results would take 8 hours to come out. I was so tired I slept after that.

By morning, I checked my cellphone and saw the message of the other maid who had accompanied Maid A. They were coming home that night. This meant she didn't need a transfusion and I was relieved. But tomorrow she has to go back for more tests to determine whether she is fit enough to undergo a D&C fully sedated or what.

Please pray things turn out all right for her.

Thank you.

Maid A aka tarya queen

Maid A is the cook. She moves ever so slowly and is BOSS. One night, around 8:45, I asked her if they had eaten dinner, they meaning she and the 2 maids. She said "ga tan-aw pa kami TV. Wala pa ko ka luto." Disgusting.

this a.m., at 10 a.m., I asked her to start preparing lunch. It's 12:38 and do you think lunch is anywhere near ready? And to think all I asked her to prepare is adobong pusit and misua.

She really gets on my nerves, so why don't I dismiss her? Help is so hard to come by. ANd parang package deal sila: she and the one who takes care of me. the labandera too. arrgh.

And she likes making me worry. Last night she said the puppy was matamlay, just sleeping and sleeping. But i think it was just the heat. Today he's frisky again.

She said the sphygmomanometer and stethoscope are kaput. Had both checked in Mercury, they're both ok.

The text in the poster above is so flawed, even mean. It's so below the belt. A winner is a winner is a winner. Better a retardate running a race like that and maybe even winning, than a macho guy who picks pockets or conducts hold ups because he is too lazy to break into a sweat by working. How sad that this poster has chosen to malign the physically challenged. I would say that even if I weren't. Why write/speak ill of the disabilities of people who didn't choose to have them? Why make fun of them? Rather than do that, why not chastise or rant against the lazy, the thieves, the corrupt?

Got it from this site: http://carcino.gen.nz/images/index.php/00b9a680/463c5922 where it is referred to as "funny images". What's so funny about it? It is a joyous picture, depicting the triumph of the human spirit against all odds! Shame on those who put this up.

Wedding Ninang 3

I guess I'm getting on in years. Today was my third wedding ninang experience. Yesterday, I prepared my getup, makeup, bag, present, sandals, and the IDs I would need to get a registered parcel from the post office.

Then this a.m., as I was looking at the makeup I had prepared, I noticed a missing lipstick (given by the mom of a former tutee) and a brush for blush on, given by a former teacher of mine who migrated to the US. Darn. I thought everything would flow smoothly and then this. After some attempts by two household helps to locate the missing items, they were found in a Sensodyne giveaway pouch where they had been put when a niece got married in September. A good 7 months ago. No wonder no one could remember.

the clock ticked. I had asked a girl who had come here twice previously to do my hair to come by 8. She works in Profiles in Katipunan. Name is Fe. It was 8:05, no sign of her. Tried calling the salon although I knew it wouldn't yet be open. 8:10, I tried to call Fe on her cell, I got a taped voice that said the phone was unattended. 8:15, 8:30, still no sign of her. I began to apply makeup (I really don't know how) and asked the maid to blow dry my hair. 8:45 the doorbell rang. I told the maid to tell Fe never mind. Wedding was at 9:30 and I was almost done.

Luckily for me, the wedding was a small one: Kamuning church, reception at Max's. Bride is the daughter of a former boss of mine. She is a music teacher.

We got to church really early. The crowd wasn't intimidating and I could smile naturally. But I know I was underdressed. While my co-godparents were dressed in jusi or organza, I was in a linen British India blouse bought for my son's high school graduation two years ago. The skirt cum pants, British India too. Gold sandals from my wedding ninang stint in 2008, same with the bag. Luckily for me, my partner who was a proxy was in a linen rather than in a jusi barong. That made the two of us, underdressed godparents. I reassured myself that I wasn't invited to be godmother because of my clothes and somehow, I succeeded.

After some picture taking, decided to drive to Max while the others were still in church. Good decision as then there was lots of parking available.

Sat at table with a few others. As the lunch progressed, the master of ceremonies announced that money from the bride's bag had been stolen. Apparently the mother of the bride was holding her daughter's bag when a man pretending to be a wedding coordinator asked for it, saying the bride wanted to retouch her makeup. Mom gave it to the guy who got the P10k from the bag. What gall. Man was seen boarding a taxi.

I don't know if he'll eventually be caught because as the photographers were clicking away at nobody and everybody, his face was recognized in one or more of the pictures.

It peeves me how people can just steal so easily and prefer doing that to working honestly and hard for their living. That man made the day less happy for the newlyweds. The lola of the bride told me, "I just hope he'll use that money for his family."

Visita Iglesia ala Driving Miss Daisy

Years back, many, many years back, we watched Driving Miss Daisy and I was so bored and wondered what it was all about as miss daisy and her driver drove on and on and on, talking sometimes.

Holy Thursday, we set out to do our Visita Iglesia in the Rizal towns. Since it was almost 12 noon, we decided to have lunch first. But it wasn't to be.

We stopped at Balaw-balaw to find it closed as did 2 other cars that arrived the same time we did. So we drove on, I thought in search of food. I namedropped Andok's lechon manok, but driver didn't react as he drove on. I glanced at the view around me to keep me entertained and succeeded. I ignored the churning I heard my tummy declare as I looked at houses on either side of the road and whatever there was to see. I sang along with the songs from husband's IPOD. Songs sung by the likes of Jam Morales, Joey Albert, Ric Segreto, Basil Valdez, Hajji Alejandro. You get the drift. Downloaded through Torrens (torrents?)

As we drove mostly along the highway we didn't see any churches. then we reached Binangonan. Saw a church but as husband was driving way too fast, instead of stopping at the church, he drove on and we reached the fish port. Beautiful sight. Very clean. Credit goes to whom? Governor Ynares? People boarded bancas or bigger, as did goods. Where were they headed? To some island? After the port, we merely followed the road, no questions asked, no answers forthcoming. Drive, drive, drive. Husband said the people seemed to be wondering why there was a car passing them by. And why not? Rather than cars we saw motorcycles, trikes, and a rare 4-wheeled vehicle. Finally, husband stopped to ask as son said "papa, dead end na ata." We were going the wrong way. I had said "stop and ask". He said "what will I ask?" Finally we did and were told to drive back past the port to reach the highway. It was almost 2 pm and my tummy had grown tired of rumbling, grumbling, whatever.

Finally, we saw a church: St. Jerome in _____. I can't recall. Lack of oxygen in the brain deprives one of memory, okay, leads to temporary amnesia. whose theory? A hungry tummy's.

As we approached the gate, a man told us we couldn't enter and to drive to the other side. So we headed for that direction. husband told another man long before we reached the gat there that I was in a wheelchair. He said, honest he did, "there are stairs in the other side." And take this, this was an oldish man. I don't think he had missed lunch because he was a local. possibly he lived close by. As we went to the area near the steps, it was apparently impossible for me to go to the church. So husband took another chance, approached the gate. This time, a young man, a teen with a hairband and a plastic bag with an orange drink approached us. Husband explained my predicament. He opened the gate (note second man had earlier said the gate was broken and couldn't be opened, leading me to wonder how a big bus got into the church grounds). As kind young man opened the gate which was apparently working, an old man told him not to. he explained my predicament and smiled at me. I prayed for blessings for him as we waited for the big bus to exit. It was a tourist bus with visita iglesia tourists. No, not Koreans.

After parking, we wheeled up to the church. I was impressed. There were so many "caros" of this or that scene from Jesus's passion and death. I'll post some pictures. I counted maybe more than 20 caros. And the church was spacious and clean. Stained glass windows and all.

After a while, we went back to the car and I thought, maybe we could find food na because at least we had gone to one church. Husband heard me mention Andok's after all, because he said "let's look for an Andok's." Instead we found Jollibee so he didn't stop. Driving Miss Daisy mode again. This time we stopped in Baras. this church holds memories. Maybe son was 3 or 4 years old when we last went there. I recall a picture of his sitting on the steps that had a few blades of grass on them alternating with barren soil. He was with his yaya and he was holding my stations of the cross missallette. So after they took pictures while I stayed in the car, I insisted that a picture of his be taken on the steps. Someday those two pictures will see each other. (Read: I'm too lazy to look for the old one.)

AFter the second church, husband said we'd stop and eat, Jollibee na kung Jollibee. Then I thought, Chow King kaya? Usually they're beside each other. This time they were across and there was a car backing out of CK so we decided to get food there and eat in the car. Siomai, siopao, their value meals. I wasn't choosy anymore. Hours earlier, I'd see people chewing and wanted to ask, "pwede makikain?" Or "ano ulam niyo?" Son went down to order, than husband followed. So he told son who wanted to go to the washroom to do so after son placed our orders. SOn left. Apparently, cashier asked husband to repeat son's orders. Son went back to me in the car.

waiting time was long, it would have been quicker in Jollibee. When our orders arrived, son's chao fan with spring roll was nowhere to be found. I told him to go back to CK and he did, only to grumpily return to the car to say the lines were too long. This was almost 3 pm. He decided to cross over to Jollibee, bought burger and fries and a drink. After he ate a little of that, he ate one of my kikiams and rice. (See, I didn't protest that the chicken I thought I had ordered was chicken kikiam, 3 pieces. I thought all along, steamed chicken like hainanese. asa pa ako.) But everything tasted so good (that's how hungry I was). I ate 4 pieces of siomai, one slice of kikiam, half a siopao and I even drank coke zero without protesting. Bait ko pala pag gutom basta may kaharap na na pagkain.

After CK, Driving Miss Daisy again. Goal: Laguna, maybe two towns. Mabitac was our first stop. Oh, before reaching Mabitac, I saw Kawayan Farm that looked enticing - read, clean. And it had a sign that screamed "bulalo". Remember how posts back I was so disappointed we didn't eat in Josephine's tagaytay or any bulalo place? So I hinted and got no reaction again. I hinted again, silence. On to Mabitac after kilometers of beautiful scenery - lush trees, mangoes hanging on them. when we finally reached MAbitac, following the road that led to the church, the sign read "126 steps". What a laugh. How would an old priest deal with those steps? Or old parishoners?

we decided to follow the road and true enough, there was a way that was without steps. I decided to stay put in the car and took pictures. I'll post them later, I hope. Then I made friends with some young boys there who volunteered to watch the car. I asked if there was a gas station somewhere. See, the driving worried me - were we running low on gas? Half tank, husband assured. But I recalled our drive to Ilocos that was similar to this drive up Laguna in the sense that there were no gas stations around. Scary to say the least. Young boy said "meron, flying v" I asked if it was far. He assured it was near. I said "walang petron?" He said "meron." I was so relieved that I decided to give him some coins and my candies in my bag that brought a smile to his face and some companions running to him as we left.

Great, there was indeed a FLying V and before long, Petron. After Petron, it being past 4, we decided to head home. Husband asked, "where's the bulalo thing"? So I watched out for it and we stopped by! Hooray. But guess what? There was no more bulalo, their house specialty. They had run out as early as the morning. Arrgh. So we asked what else was available."Tinolang manok, native; caldereta; kare-kare; sisig; laing, etc." For takeout, I ordered tinola, caldereta (beef) and sisig. I was excited to try provincial food as we drove on. When we reached a certain junction, policemen pointed us to a certain street, no questions asked. I think they thought everyone wanted to go to the church in Antipolo because that's the direction to which we were headed without our meaning to. But it was late so we decided to move on. Except that we got lost. SO we asked and were told that instead of using the road that would pass Assumption, we should take Ortigas. we did. And it was Driving Miss Daisy again. such a long way but we saw people trekking up to Antipolo.

Finally we hit Libis and home.

Some observations: In the small towns we passed, life seemed to go on as usual - it didn't seem like Holy Week as markets were open selling the usual goods. Charcoal and firewood are available along the highway leading to and from Laguna. So are vinegar and some sweets.

My mind is wandering. I'll add some more if I remember anything.

A bLessed day - my cousin's ordination to the priesthood

Even the best laid out plans, or the most well laid out plans can go awry if God so wills it. Days ago, when my husband's ankle was swollen after he fell and sprained it, I called the Wheelmobile people to come this Saturday at 8 so that whether my husband's foot was good enough to allow him to carry me or not, he, my son and I would be able to go to Gesu for my cousin's ordination.

This morning, at around 7:30, the driver of the Wheelmobile texted: he'd be late because he was picking up his wife and child from the province. I didn't bother to ask how late was late because the last time he said he'd be late he later called to say he wouldn't be able to come. So why bother?

Luckily, my husband insisted he was way all right and so we went.

Again the most well laid out plan can go awry if God so wills it. While I was hoping we would be at Gesu by 8 a.m., at 8:15 we were still in the garage, waiting for son to come out. See, he had two gigs last night and was wide awake till around 3 a.m. I kept waking up and chiding him to sleep and he assured me he'd wake up. He did at 7:30 when I woke him up, but true to the proclivity of his father's family, he took his time. So we were able to leave the house at past 8:15.

Luckily for us, traffic was light, and luckily for us, there was a parking slot for the disabled at the admin section of Ateneo. But guess what, because of the long time it took us to leave the house, there was rain, not just a drizzle when we alighted from the car, so somehow we were not exactly drenched but wet enough. Scholastics smiled as they saw us enter the church because perhaps we looked like wet ducks, dripping a little. And possibly, the wheelchair I sat on was wet because after son brought it out in the rain, he went to hold the umbrella over his father's head. See, the wheelchair couldn't have been dry. But I didn't notice because down there, I cannot feel. Ignorance is indeed bliss.

The church was not that full yet, husband got two Monobloc chairs for him and son to sit on at the back close to the electric fans. I could hardly see what was happening out at the altar nor in the middle aisle because people obstructed my view. But I was happy enough to not fret. Six men were ordained to the Society of Jesus, I was there, feeling blessed at having been invited.

Soon the seats ran out and some people were standing. Son smiled at someone behind us and when I asked to whom, he looked back, looked to his side and pointed out his Filipino teacher a year ago. Not exactly old but older than he. I contemplated on asking him to give his chair to the teacher but was in a quandary. Son after all lacked sleep and one never knew. There was an old lady in front of us, also standing. She had a maid with her. Her companions had chairs but I sensed no move on their part to offer these to her. They looked younger than she.

Then, just before the homily, son whispered, "mama, I'll give her my chair ha." I nodded, touched at my son's gallantry/chivalry - whatever the apt word is. And the lady smiled. I was happy. Years back when I was still walking, I had done the same in the college chapel, and see, I've never wanted for a chair. God gave me a permanent one. In this case, though, I prayed to him not to give the same to my son.

As the ceremony proceeded, I was yawning no end, my husband's eyes were alternating between sleep and not. Son was nodding off. What a family. But really if you've been to an ordination, especially of six men, it's not a short ceremony. In fact, what started out at 8:30 promptly, finished at 11. Think about reciting the long litany of so many saints. THink of all the Jesuits lining up and hugging in welcome each of the six men. Perhaps there were a hundred Jesuits? If fewer, it seemed like a hundred. Were they more?

Saw some relatives after the ceremony. The congregation was asked to line up if we wished to receive the priestly blessings of the six. But we chatted on with some relatives who weren't lining up either. LAter, husband said, cousin was already blessing people. We thought he was merely chatting with the people who came to greet him. So we lined up. And finally reached him. ANd he blessed us. As we moved to get our umbrellas so we could leave for the reception, noticed that cousins were gone. They hadn't lined up for the blessing. It was past 12 by then and they had presumably left for the reception.

Our house being close by, husband felt inclined to change because he could still feel the dampness of his clothing. I didn't bother to alight from the car as I waited for him and son. I drank some water to refresh me. The noonday heat was draining me.

When we finally arrived at Ayala Hillside Estates, it so felt like Punta Fuego. Nice houses, son said one might be Regine's. He had been there months ago, not to Regine's house but to the clubhouse for his friend's debut.

the guard at the gate of the subdivision was very cordial. When son asked for exact directions, he drew out a map mounted in cardboard and covered with plastic. Then he smilingly pointed out the path we should take.

At the parking lot of the clubhouse, we looked for any sign of a ramp. None. But there were only two steps to the clubhouse, no, make that three. ANd so this time, with son and two men helping him, I in my wheelchair was lifted up the steps, and wheeled to the venue. There were only two tables empty. We took one of them and before long, 3 men and two ladies joined us after asking if they could.

Prior to reaching the clubhouse, a cousin texted to ask where we were. She said they had begun eating even without priest-cousin around. She raved about the food. Later I found out it was catered by City Grill which the sister of priest-cousin owns.

Indeed the food was great. Usually, catered food in such affairs are plentiful but ho-hum. This time, food was really good. There was a salad buffet - lettuce leaves, corn, ham and bacon bits, parmesan cheese and a choice of dressings. The main courses inlcuded barbecued pork ribs, chicken that had basil sauce, dory, shrimp pasta, Javanese rice.

After we were done with the lunch, I asked son to get me some dessert. By then, cousin who had texted me had joined us, seating behind and between son and me. She was frequenting the dessert tables and ate what she had on her plate as we talked. Son got me tocino del cielo and a thin slice of black and white jelly. Not knowing that son had done so, husband got me a bigger slice of the jelly.

Cousin had so many more choices on her plate. And she'd ask me if I wanted some and she'd stand up and get me some. Note that this cousin is maybe sixty plus but looks young and energetic. So she stood up to get me strawberries. Then she asked, want them dipped in chocolate? I said yes. She went back to the dessert table. She asked you want some pastillas? I said yes. But she came back empty-handed. They had run out. I can't remember what else she got for me but I was most appreciative of her solicitousness.

At 2, long after most of the guests had finished eating, priest-cousin arrived with a few companions. Applause greeted him and before he could settle down to eat, his dad or mom would bring him to a table of old ladies who wanted to be blessed. As he went through the rigors/motion, his smile was ever-present. When we sensed he didn't have too many people to greet (he was near the food table), we decided to say goodbye after a photo op, just one photo.As we waited our turn, his mom gave him some cash from an aunt and he said for her to keep first. His mom said, Okay, I'll list down everything but be sure to write thank you notes to everyone. Such motherly reminder made me smile. Here was a mom of a newly ordained priest possibly in his early 40s or late 30s, reminding her son to write thank you notes. A mother's job is never done. No matter what station a child has reached, his mother remains his mother and she'll never forget that nor allow her child to do so.

Congratulations/blessings, Robbie. May you be happy in the road you chose to travel, the path you chose to take, the road/load less traveled by. (This a.m., when I was writing the dedication on the card for our gift, I mistakenly wrote load instead of road and had to correct that error. But I thought, it was a good way of putting it as well, a serendipitous slip of the pen if one allowed it.)

A full day

and I'm tired now.

This a.m., my son and I competed for the bathroom. I gave in to him because he had to meet up with someone to gather their requirements for their application to study abroad. When he was done, I bathed and before I was done dressing up, my tutee arrived. Had her wait a bit before finally joining her. How I wish she would relax a bit. She seems so tense, algebra intimidates her no end.

Meanwhile, while I was tutoring, the driver of the Wheelmobile texted. He was outside. I had told him 10:30. It was 9:30 and he was here. So I told husband to use him to go to the doctor. Yesterday, at Punta Fuego, husband was taking pictures and jumped for a better angle. But instead of grass, he landed on a hole in the ground and fell on his side. And he was alone. Son chose to stay in the casita, reading, as did I. Luckily, husband managed to get up and drive back to the casita. The fall was nothing, he said, possibly a sprain. Son drove back from Batangas to Manila. Stopped in tagaytay for a late lunch. Details on the PF experience soon.

While husband had his foot x-rayed in a lab along our street, he had the Wheelmobile go back to the house. After he assured me he could walk back, I left for the bank to get a bank certification which is required for my son's application. Then off to Makati.

Initially I thought of dropping by my sister's to get the receipt of Alliance France for translations requested. I had asked her to bring it to AF after I faxed it to her to save one trip to Makati. But I was famished. I texted my friend who's in town from The Netherlands and we agreed to meet for lunch at Power Plant. I decided AF and my sister's house could wait.

While waiting for friend in Banana Leaf, I listened as an old person played on the piano. At first I was sure the person was female because he had on a pink long-sleeve top . Then I thought, he has a hat. And the build was so masculine. I thought he might be male.


What music did he play as I sat alone waiting? Song for Anna. I think I posted in this site or some other blog how the song pierces my heart and those of my sisters each time we hear it, because we so associate it with Mama. A year or so before she died, she'd play this piece on the piano, she who hadn't touched the piano for years. Maybe to leave us something to remember her by? And a few months before she passed away, my friend from The Netherlands who was then my college classmate gave me a cassette tape, one of whose songs was Song for Anna. Remembering that now, maybe Mama wanted me to recall that connection. We played that tape as her remains were carried out of the church to the cemetery after mass in our home town. Anyway, as I listened to the music this morning, I was confused. More than anything emotional, I was just tired and hungry. So why the music from Mama, which always signifies for me comfort from her because I usually hear it unexpectedly when I'm worried about something. Perhaps I was worried about my husband's foot more than I cared to acknowledge? And the piano player played the piece whole or maybe more. See the melody goes round and round and there is always the tendency not to know where to go next and when to end. And the song the pianist played after was Love Story which mama also loved. What was Mama trying to tell me today? I don't really know.

After lunch at Banana Leaf with best friend, hied off in the Wheelmobile to my sister's to get the receipt so I could claim the translations. Payment for the translation of one birth certificate and one affidavit of support is P2120. The affidavit of support is P1220, balance of P900 is for the birth certificate. Steep? Left an affidavit executed by best friend for translation and that means another P1220. And guess what, as I was on my way home, I read the translation and noted some errors; my mother's family name was listed as BIEN. and the corrections on the side of my son's birth certificate weren't typed as they should have. But my maiden name or my son's middle name was spelled correctly. Hahaha. Did the one translating know one of my sisters? How come she unwittingly spelled it correctly? Funny...