Monday, December 31, 2007

Pictures

Following is the picture of a flower I blogged about some time ago. Took it in front of McDo, that is, my husband did. I also like its red orange version. Maybe, next time, I'll see one.



This flower of the yellow hibiscus, okay, gumamela, was taken in the garden. Years back I had an almost similar shade of the plant but that died after making me happy for several months in that each time I went out, it would be full of yellow blooms. This one isn't too generous, just two or three flowers at a time. But better than zero.





Do you notice anything amiss with this picture? Talk about energy conservation... This was taken in Green Meadows leading to Ortigas Avenue, I think.

Sunday, December 30, 2007

A Principled General and His Wife

This will not be long but through this entry, I'd like to share my relief that in the military is at least one man and his wife who are principled. Remember the accident of Joey? One of the boys involved was the son of a general of the Philippine Police. Being virtually the only one among the six who was up and about, he took the responsibility of reporting the matter to the police in either Pangasinan or Tarlac. As expected, he was given a runaround of sorts, one faction saying it wasn't within their jurisdiction, etc. But he persisted and finally accomplished the task without letting on he was the son of the general, an announcement that would undoubtedly have shortened his chore. Why? His father has a standing rule for his children: no name-dropping. So the son is not abusive at all. He is soft-spoken, a normal 18-year old boy.

The wife: she likes to dress up and dresses up well. Very pretty even if petite, the usual life of the party. She enjoys talking about her sons and her travels to various religious destinations-- a shrine here, a shrine there. She's always asked to be ninang of weddings and she never says no. And she is very prayerful. She drives a car by herself, no private or police officer driving her about, thank you. She doesn't want people to talk. Good for her.

The family has my utmost respect.

Eavesdropping and then some

Before i recount what I eavesdropped about, just want to share pictures of our orders in Myron's at the food court of Power Plant. Pity we forgot to take a picture of the pretty caesar's salad where Romaine lettuce leaves were arranged like a fan, each leaf topped with dressing, lots of parmesan cheese and a few slivers of bacon.

Following though are photos of the wagyu beef ribs an the paolo's rib eye steak. The former came with garlic rice, the latter with mashed potato. Sidings were similar: a slice of carrot, a slice of squash, several asparagus stems, zucchini. Both were very good.



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now for the eavesdropping bit. We thought of buying ensaimada from Diamond Hotel's outlet in Power Plant and saw some inviting cakes displayed. So my husband and I ordered Le Royale (sorry I forgot to take a picture) that was basically a dark chocolate mousse with crispy hazelnut crust and almond meringue. It was sinfully delicious. One slice which we shared cost P180 net. we had water to go with it and eavesdropping besides.

The tables at The Cake Club are precariously close to each other so that listening to the conversation in the table next to ours didn't take any effort. And where we sat was beside a youngish couple. The girl was dressed casually, her male companion had a bonnet. The girl spoke in English all the time. Then two of their Tagalog-speaking friends dropped by their table and joined them. The male arrival said, "you look tanned." The female English speaking girl said, "I just vacationed in Cayman Islands." (isn't it in Cayman Islands where the rich deposit their laundered wealth?) Oh, a rich girl, I thought. Rich and famous? Maybe but let's stop at rich. I'm not sure I've chanced upon her in the society pages. Then her male companion asked the two arrivals, "did you see the polar bears out there?" (I'm attaching a picture of those bears:)

He went on, "We thought they were for sale so we asked how much they cost. they weren't for sale though." Hello, those are huge bears you're talking about. They must cost tens of thousands of pesos. Oh but I'm sure those kids could afford them.








Anyway, richhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh these young people undoubtedly were. Then someone asked about someone else not present at their table and one of them said, "He owns a resort there." We failed to catch where "there" was, wow, but they also knew someone who owned a resort. Luckily for them, I wanted to go home but it was so entertaining to listen to the rich talk.

Moral of the story: Should you be in a public place and you don't want people to hear what you're talking about, speak softly. we didn't have to crane our necks or listen intently to these rich kids. They just spoke loudly enough for us to hear them.

Saturday, December 29, 2007

Shorts

I have been rather lazy about blogging. Several times these past days, I'd go to this very box and wonder what I should blog about. Oh yes, I wanted to blog about the basket of fruits Joey's family sent us. Just like Joey ordered, fruits for my son. But I guess, I was too depressed to write about the gift with Joey gone. Except that there was one fruit there that stood out. I thought it was tisa(?) or a yellow fruit whose flesh had the consistency of camote which I tried and didn't like when I was teaching. Except that when the maid sliced the fruit open, the contents looked like spoiled something. They looked grimy and reminded me of caviar. Not that I've seen any caviar in my lifetime, except in pictures, but they looked like caviar. Except that these seemed bigger, plus I know caviar isn't a fruit. Here's a picture of the mysterious fruit, mysterious to me at least. Would appreciate any info as to what it is from anyone. I've been thinking of calling Dizon farms to ask, as the basket said "Dizon Farms" but I've not mustered enough energy to undertake the task. Here's the picture:



Those are apple slices beside it, the tartest I've ever tasted. Maybe they're a different variety. Thanks Joey, just the same. We love you and your family.

Here's a picture of the fruit's contents and the unopened fruit:


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This afternoon, the maid came in with another food present. When I saw it, my first thought was "blueberry cheesecake". Then I looked closely. The round thingies were too small to be blueberries. So I thought, "Caviar" but again it occurred to me, caviar is just too expensive to give away to lesser mortals like us. Then I recalled a childhood fruit in our garden, "blackberries." I texted the giver, a doctor friend whose son is a good friend of my son's, to verify. She called and said "that's caviar pie." I told her that it occurred to me it was caviar but I couldn't believe it until I heard it from her. She said it will be good enough till new year's eve if there will be any left by then. She had prepared the pie herself. Sweet of her, no? Can't wait to taste it. Will I be able to postpone trying it till the new year? She advised me to buy Fita cookies; I did.

Following is a picture of the caviar pie, very artistically arranged on a salad plate with lemon slices on top and rosemary leaves (?) around. I thought they were from the cypress tree but then again, they also looked like rosemary. I'll have to smell them to know for sure. Maybe, tomorrow. The picture:



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To go on, when my doctor friend called to tell me re the caviar pie, she also mentioned that there were several policemen and SWAT teams and vehicles in front of our house. Like they were there to raid something. That alarmed me so I told my husband about it, while at the same time fearful that if he went out, that might create problems. He did go out and saw a SWAT man with a mask who raised his mask as he spoke to my husband. When my husband recalled their conversation, he said the SWAT man was "guapo and young".

Anyway, when he asked the man what was going on, the man said there was a car chase from Commonwealth that ended in front of the house. The pursued were carnappers, my husband was told. They had parked the car and run away but the tricycle drivers nearby refused to let on as to which direction they fled. How Filipino? So uninvolved. The SWAT guy asked if my husband knew who owned the white car, a Honda sedan. My husband said he didn't know but he also mentioned that the red car in front of the white car had been there for weeks. Husband then went back to the house. This was half past five.

Our son was supposed to come home at 630 pm from school where he was in the thick of preparations for his org homecoming tomorrow; but I warned him not to come home just yet lest he be accosted by the police. We told him to stay put and we'd just pick him up to go to the funeral parlor where Hangad would sing for the wake of a friend's grandma. He followed instructions and good that he did because as we were about to go out through the open gate, the police stopped us. Again, the same questions: do you know who owns the white car? etc. I asked, "what happened?" The policeman just smiled. Inis. He could ask questions and get answers, we couldn't. And the police cars were on either side of our gate, they refused to move an inch to make backing out easier. Luckily a barangay tanod guided my husband as he drove out in reverse. I wanted to take pictures but my husband prevailed on me not to. Pity. It was an interesting sight. There were female SOCO taking fingerprints and the white car looked a mess with black smudges that looked like they were made by very dirty hands or carbon paper. At past 8 I texted my cousin who lives in the condo nearby to check if the police were still around. They were. Around 930 she said they weren't. So we headed for home. The white car wasn't there any longer. I'm surprised that it didn't have bullet holes when I saw it earlier. Wow, the police actually practiced restraint. They didn't fire at the car they were chasing.

Will the incident be in the news? I doubt very much as there was no media around despite the fact that the whole thing lasted more than 3 hours. What gives? Will we ever know?

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After we dropped off our son at Loyola Guadalupe, husband and I drove to Power Plant. I think it was the first time we did this Christmas because I was floored by the lights The trees looked aflame with red lights filling most of them. I took some pictures. When I showed them to my son, he said, "Did you do this on purpose?" I said no. It was just that the car was moving. No deliberately artsy-fartsy stuff here, just a moving vehicle from which I took the pictures. Here they are:



Thursday, December 20, 2007

Quaint Christmas Presents

(in order of receipt)
1. 3 orchestra tickets to a Jesuit Communications concert featuring Hangad, Joe Mari Chan. etc. From my future wedding goddaughter.
2. 2 orders of Roli's sati babe and one mazapan de leche. From my high school best friend and now my cousin-in-law. These are my favorites and came as a real surprise and treat.
3. 10 pieces of balut - these from the family of my son's friend. Parents are both doctors. So they too must eat balut. And therefore balut is healthy. How's that for convenient logic?
4. dried beef tapa - from a cousin in Bacolod. Before it came via JRS, I was wondering what to have for lunch. Wow, that really deliciously solved my "dilemma."

5. Sapin-sapin - from the family of my son's classmate; mom has become a good friend. I should take its picture though I have taken off a portion of it. there's a yellow strip that is new I think. Every part of sapin sapin seems to taste the same except for what's evidently the suman portion. But somehow, I prefer some colors to others (violet, orange, cream). I don't like the red part too much. A bit tough. Psychological?


6. A box containing six cans of Pringle's. From the sister of my college best friend. I've seen this in the supermarkets but only buy one canister at a time, so this was decidedly a treat.


7. A box of ponkan - these from a couple (parents of son's friend) who are into the distribution of onions, fruits, etc.


Hmmm. Will take pictures of these so I can post them.

Shorts or Bits and Pieces of Nothing and Everything

Last night attended dinner at my best friend's house where I saw the newlyweds. It then dawned on me that I forgot to bring our wedding present for them. DARN. And their house is so far. I vowed to send this by JRS the next day.

Anyway, the bride looked lovely, lovelier than she did on her wedding day. Younger too. what gives? Make-up. She had a lot on on her wedding day. Last night, she didn't look like she had any.

This calls to mind a memory that will long haunt me. My mother had this very good friend with whom she "exchanged" gifts every so often -- no occasion needed. When my mother would go to Iloilo or Manila, we'd always bring something over to her friend. When the friend harvested bangrus from her farm, she'd give us too.

Anyway, one day, we dropped by her house to pick up something. She had no make-up on and was I surprised that she looked so old without any on.

Moral of the two stories: when you're young, use make-up sparingly. When you're older, use make-up sparingly so people won't be surprised when they see you all wrinkled when you don't have any make-up on.

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Haven't been watching TV much. Partly because when Joey died, my routines were discarded, among them being transfixed by my source of peripheral noise--television. yes, I'd still turn on the TV while eating breakfast or lunch, but these days, as soon as I finish my meal, I turn the TV off. Except for Marimar, that is. I watch it every time we are home. Start to finish.

Moreover, I only buy newspapers Thursday to Sunday. So was I surprised to find out today that Ernest Santiago had died after being murdered. Stories of gays being murdered by their lovers or househelp have become de rigeuer. Sadly.

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Saturday, December 15, 2007

A wedding

Went to a wedding last week. Groom was Chinese, I think the bride wasn't. Yes, it was the groom's family that invited us. He asked to be tutored and baptized a Catholic months before the wedding. Impressive considering that the priest had offered him the option of having a non-denominational wedding. Tutor was a parishoner of the church.

We knew the officiating priest. In fact it was because of me that he was the one requested to officiate and that the wedding was held in his parish. Weeks back I told him of my fear the last time I attended the groom's sister's wedding that we might not reach the altar in time to be given communion. You see, that time, we sat on the side and to get to the middle aisle for the communion line, we had to go to the back of the church to fall in line and going to the back meant leaving through the side entrance, moving out along the driveway to the front door. Long story, right? And the communion line was soooooooooooo short. So we virtually had to run, sprint or whatever the apt word is. And we almost didn't make it.

Last Sunday, after the lector announced that people could fall in line for communion, no one seemed inclined. This time we were seated on the side like last year but the distance between the bench and the pew was wide enough for us to go through. We had sat in the same place last year but there was a table for the offertory that blocked easy access to the center aisle. This time the table was so positioned that we could get through.

Before we were able to move, I saw our priest friend walk toward the side of the altar, about to approach us. But I motioned to him that we'd just go to the center aisle. So he proceeded there and this time, the line was even shorter. My husband said later that the priest was ready -- he had but a few hosts in the chalice and they weren't consumed.

So again the question cropped up. Why do non-Catholic Chinese want to get married in church? The people invited seem so disinterested about the ceremony and it becomes so devoid of meaning. I want to make a few guesses but it might be insulting to them. And I have a lot of Chinese friends. Still, isn't there a Chinese wedding ceremony that could be as grand but more meaningful to them and their guests?

After the ceremony, we talked about the matter with the parish priest. He made the same observations about the listlessness of the crowd. He said he's almost sure that next time, he'll just perform the wedding rites without a mass if a suddenly Catholic Chinese decides to marry in his church. Wonder if he'll be able to pull through with this.

We missed the reception as husband's foot became painful. At first he thought it was arthritis. But then it occurred to him it might have been a sprain.

Days later, the mother of the groom called to ask why we missed the reception. Had she known why, she said, she'd have arranged to have me picked up.

I'm sure the food then would have been great, a Chinese lauriat. Oh well, till the next Chinese wedding, er reception.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

My Son's New Friends


No, Joey hasn't been replaced in my son's heart, but as though to prepare my son for his loss, months back, my son was invited to audition for a church ministry singing group (I'm not sure that's how they should be referred to -- sounds rather awkward the way I put it). He qualified and has been practicing with them twice a week, performed with them even, as far as Tarlac, and I guess, in a sense, bonded with them. This account relates to Joey still.

Monday night, as we drove to Joey's wake in Christ the King, Green Meadows, my son said, "Tomorrow will be the first time he (meaning Joey) hears us(meaning, Hangad)." Knowing they practiced in the church loft, I asked if they sang loud enough to be heard at the wake. He waved my question off impatiently, as it was too literal, I guess. I promptly kept quiet and what he meant dawned on me.

Tuesdays translate to Hangad practice at Christ the King and my husband and I thought they might possibly sing for Joey before practice. I thought, maybe just one song. I suggested this to my son, but again, silence met my suggestion.

Familiar with one of the Hangad members, I texted him the following morning to ask for that one song because I wasn't sure my son would be "brave" enough to do it, even for his friend. The Hangad member I texted relayed my request to the other members who promptly agreed. In the meantime, unknown to me, my son had also texted them. And they agreed to sing, not just one song, but for the entire mass. I cried when I heard that because yet again, my son had chosen friends who have heart and compassion. I asked if I should give a token, they said no.

As they sang at Joey's wake Tuesday night, I was moved to tears by the brand of friendship they showed my son, aware that he had just lost his best friend. Their singing was especially beautiful so that after the mass, people asked who they were.

Later, a grand-aunt of Joey wondered out loud who should sing at the funeral mass for Joey. I suggested my son's high school theater group, but I guess, my son wanted no less than the best for Joey so that when the grand-aunt asked him, he unabashedly asked his co-members in Hangad if they could sing one last time for Joey. They said yes, unequivocally. (picture of Hangad was taken during Joey's funeral mass by Rene Palma)

Considering that the group earns tens of thousands of pesos singing at weddings, I was most touched that they chose to sing for free for a co-member's friend, a co-member who hasn't been with them for even half a year. But I guess, they are that kind of people who prefer to make treasures for themselves in heaven, rather than here on earth. They also apparently put a premium on friendship.

As they left the chapel last Tuesday, they approached the grieving parents and offered their condolences. They also did the same to me, seeing how distraught I was , I guess, and aware of how much my son valued his friend Joey.

A few weeks back, one of the members told me, "welcome to the hangad family." What they did for Joey and my son is more than enough proof that those words of welcome weren't bereft of sincerity. So now I have yet another set of sons and daughters to add to the brood of sons I gained in the past four years in my son's classmates in high school and his org mates, also in high school.

Still, Joey will always be special. He who carried the guitar case of my son while my son was performing for the class, he who chose to sit beside my son in the bus during their innumerable field trips, he who was always remembering my son's birthday and giving him cake with fruits so my son would learn to eat fruits, he who advised my son to lose weight as it would be good for his health. He never called my son a pig, baboy, etc. the way some classmates did. Instead, he encouraged my son to lose weight in a positive way. Joey...

Sunday, December 2, 2007

My Son's Best Friend


As I type this, I'm crying. My son lost his best friend early this morning when Joey passed away. Or maybe, even as early as yesterday afternoon when he was declared brain-dead. Joey and four other friends, including the father of one of those friends , drove up to Baguio Thursday afternoon to take advantage of the long weekend. My son would have joined them and in fact, a few weeks back, I bought him a toiletry bag which he said was like Joey's. But I think it was Tuesday last week when my son said he couldn't go up to Baguio with his friends because he had a Math long test at 4:30 p.m., while his friends had scheduled their departure for Baguio at 3 p.m. Originally, they had set it for 12 midnight leading to Friday.

I knew my son felt bad that he couldn't go with his friends. In fact he had begged off from joining the singing group he loves on their trip to Palawan because he wanted to play basketball in Baguio, which his friends were planning to do.

Yesterday, as we left the house to go to mass, I realized I had forgotten my cell phone but I thought it wouldn't be important to have it as my husband and son were with me anyway. we went to the church were my son's high school group was going to sing but there was no parking space left so we drove to Ateneo. We sat in the Monobloc chairs and by some coincidence, the one to my son's left was the most recent Ateneo MVP player, Nonoy Baclao. During the singing of the Our Father, he extended his hand to my son who later whispered, "Ang laki ng kamay niya, kaya pala ang galing mag block." Without my knowing it, but as was his wont, my son texted his best friend Joey about Baclao and Joey answered that text message. My son sent him another text message but this time, Joey didn't reply.

When we reached Shangrila, my husband and son chose some shirts and as my son lined up at the cashier's, he got a text message. It went sometime like, "Please pray. Please pray hard for us, we just had a car accident." My son motioned to his dad to take over while he walked off outside the store to call up the person who texted him. It was another friend who gave my son a few scant details regarding the accident and the bad news that Joey was unconscious.

I felt so stupid about not bringing my phone because my son wanted the number of Joey's parents. I was of no help. Luckily he saw the land line of Joey, called up his house but managed to talk to Joey's sister only as Joey's parents were out. We decided to go home without having lunch but after buying a trowel for my son's Environmental Science class. As we went to the parking lot, we saw the parents of another of their classmates, who ironically were the parents of my son's grade school best friend. We told them the bad news.

Back home we frantically made calls, sent text messages. At one point, the one who texted my son to pray said Joey was gone. We all screamed and cried. Then we settled down. Then we'd think of Joey and cry again. Whenever my son got calls from friends, he'd break down in tears. To distract myself, I went to the grocery but did not succeed in distracting myself. I listlessly picked up items in the list and at one point noticed a man who wasn't buying anything look at me. I told the maid to move me and later overheard the other maid say the man seemed to have been eyeing my bag and cellphone. I had to have it along as I was still receiving and making calls and text messages while in the grocery. I called up my husband to come over lest the man and his cohorts (3 others) accost us outside the grocery. I asked the lady who sold us the ham if she had noticed the man, she said yes. She just smiled and had no plans to help us.

As we plodded along again back home, my son got a message that Joey was still alive, he was merely brain dead. I got in touch with his mom who confirmed it and said he wasn't responding to medication. We started praying for a miracle, but it was not to be.

Goodbye Joey. We have a lot of memories about you which we will remember forever. Thank you for your being a good friend to my son, for being his responsible kuya, for reminding him of his assignments, etc.

(PS I shall not reread nor edit this post as doing so might unleash several more tears. Joey will understand, right Joey? I can almost hear him say or read his text saying, "Yes, tita.")

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Check out: http://journal.neilgaiman.com

Then scroll down to "So you know" for real-life romantic stuff... Made me shed a few tears there, I was so touched..

Omakase 3

Tonight was the third time we ate in Omakase in a span of 3 months, not counting the time I ordered sushi take-home. And tonight was special in the sense that using my new camera, we took pictures of the entrees we ordered except for one main entree, the tonkatsu. It looked pale, not golden brown, and therefore uninteresting. Following are the entrees we ordered. Before you start thinking what gluttons we are, take note that we took home a portion of each except for the soup which my husband finished. I don't know the Japanese names of the food we ordered but I'll describe them as best I can.

Oops, what's happening to blogger? It refuses to upload pictures. Anyway, I'll do it tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll describe the food we ordered lest I forget.

The soup: it was called the omakase soup. It contained crab sticks, sea weed and what looked like beaten egg strips cooked in the broth, a clear broth.



Sushis: we ordered 3 kinds, namely, American Dream, the cheesy beef sushi and hold your breath, Rising Sun. American dream I think I described way back: cooked salmon with cream cheese inside vinegared rice fried with batter like tempura. Cheesy beef was breaded. It was beef with cheddar cheese stuffing -- my son's favorite. Now Rising Sun has a mixture of tuna and salmon sashimi and avocado and cucumber.




American Dream


Rising Sun



Dip for the sushis - a mixture of Japanese mayo and Kikkoman

Cheesy Beef Sushi



Sashimi: we ordered salmon. It was nicely arranged in a white porcelain plate shaped like a fan.


Rice: we ordered garlic rice. Yummy.

Main dishes: squid teppanyaki and tonkatsu. The tonkatsu I described earlier, the squid teppanyaki was nice and tender. The taste was okay, like most teppan food. The teppan was served with vegetables - generally togue, cabbage and carrots. Following is a picture of the squid teppan.



Dessert: Fried tempura ice cream. Actually this is vanilla ice creamed cooked in tempura batter. With this in a bowl are slices or cubes of mango (depends on which chef prepares it). Chocolate syrup is poured atop the mound which is, in turn, topped by half a cherry with a stem, if the chef remembers. We ordered two for the three of us, one after the other. The second order didn't have cherry. Did they run out or did the chef forget? We didn't bother to ask as all the servers were so nice, so why antagonize them?

The dessert minus the half-cherry




Add Image still refuses to work. Darn...

A New Camera

Last night, our son showed us the photos in his i-touch. I was amazed: in it were pictures of his graduation and dinner which I thought didn't exist. I asked where he got them and he said they came from his dad's camera. I couldn't be placated. For months now, I've been saddened by the thought that on my son's high school graduation, we didn't even have a family picture with him in his toga, nor of him at the surprise party we gave him. Then these pictures suddenly showed up.

The culprit: my husband's camera. It's digital and my husband hadn't copied the photos for me in my memory stick. They were merely languishing in his. So this morning, as he showed me pictures in his camera, a number a year old, no less, I thought out loud, "when I have money I'll buy a digital camera too."

A few hours later, he said he'd go to Shangrila to get me a wedding anniversary present. In the meantime, I surfed for a cheap digital camera and started thinking when I could afford to get one of the lower end models. But when he came back, he had a Sony digital camera for me, for which he got a pink case. He felt guilty that he hadn't gotten the pink camera instead of the metallic one, but I guess he just couldn't stomach holding a pink camera,even if only occasionally.