Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Text messages and then some




It's almost 1 a.m. but barely 3 minutes ago, I got a text message from a friend of my sister. In the inbox, right under her name, I saw this vertical line like the capital letter I but a bit different. Unlike in the past when I'd ignore it thinking she failed to complete her message, I opened her text message and scrolled down. The words - "bala ng stapler" appeared. Wow, if I had been awakened from sleep and if she had been nearby, I could have hurled the stapler at her -- of course that's an exaggeration because I won't do it literally, maybe in my mind? haha. But send a message of that sort at 1 a.m.? I thought she had stopped doing that because it has been days since I last received a message from her in the early morning, but apparently, she's still at it. Jokes, inspirational messages in the wee hours of the morning. Her propensity to do this makes me wonder what time she sleeps, what she does the rest of the day, etc. I don't want to text her to stop the way a friend told me she had done to her friend who sent her Biblical passages around the same time. Her friend stopped doing it and I guess so did their friendship end. In my case, the lady sending me the messages isn't even that close to me, so I dare not do it. I wonder if she sends my sister the same and at the same time she does me. I wonder too what my sister's reaction has been. Do I ask her?

*******************

If the text message were of a religious nature (like the ones my friend received until she asked that she be spared), there might be something psychological behind the timing. It's just a hunch that I base on the fact that TV shows that proselytize are aired around that time. Maybe because the airtime is cheaper then? Methinks no. I think the more pressing reason for the choice of schedule is the subliminal effect on the viewers. Around that time, people are more vulnerable and therefore are easier to sway/convince/convert. Possibly too, people who don't sleep earlier are the type who might have problems so they lie awake thinking about it. I'm not saying all insomniacs are such, but based on the calls religious shows get, a good number of their viewers have problems. Just a thought...

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Went to a shop this pm. The lady who owned it was very pleasant. I asked her advice on what to wear as ninang. As we conversed, she said that she had branched out into selling second-hand bags, pointing them out to me in the process. The bags were nice, huge ones that were apparently expensive. One was a Louis Vuitton. I told her that yes, I had read about second-hand bags being sold online and she said usually those who sold their pricey bags wanted to get new ones, later models, etc. She said that only yesterday, she sold a bag whose later model sells at P180,000 for P100,000. I didn't blink an eye but neither did I pretend I was interested. A bag for P100k? no way. She also said she had bags worth P60,000. Still, no way, Jose. The money could be put to better use.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Bee Season by Myla Goldberg



A month or so ago, I bought the book Bee Season, partly for sentimental reasons. The story per the blurb was of a girl who entered the Spelling Bee contest so that days leading to the contest are described -- how she practiced, how she earned the chance to represent her school and district, how her dad trained her. I thought it interesting at the start as her father taught her how to think of letters, how vowels sounded relative to consonants, etc. Unfortunately, at least to my mind, the story takes on too many layers. Aside from focusing on the spelling bee girl, it talks of her highly dysfunctional family, particularly her mom who has the propensity to steal although they are well of enough. It also speaks of her brother and his religion angst and her father who is a character of sorts, likewise.

Perhaps if the blurb on the back cover were not so written, I wouldn't have expected too much from the book. Makes me wonder therefore if, as I read or saw somewhere, book reviewers do not read the book page for page but merely breeze through it, hence the deception cum inaccuracy of their reviews.

Though the book is but 322 pages, it has given me no compelling reason to finish it pronto. If and when I decide to finish reading it, hopefully soon, my motivation is this: so I can go read other books. Like a novel by Murakami, for example, which my son read for English class. We have since bought 3 other books of the Japanese author.

Shorts




My husband bought a DVD of The Producers because one night he caught it on TV but was too sleepy to finish it. Uma Thurman plays a support role, but as usual she sizzles. I mention the DVD's purchase only because of what my husband showed me. He got the DVD for P199 but on it was a sticker that said: 3 for P600. Usually, when one buys in bulk, one gets a discount, but Astrovision seems to practice the contrary. I wonder if this is a mistake on their part, a deliberate decision or utter stupidity.

****************

Bought Edu Manzano's CD because when I watch Game Ka Na Ba, his dancing to the tune of Papaya so amuses me. CD cost P220 but it's not really worth it. In it are 3 versions of Papaya, a Michael Jackson song, etc., purportedly dance hits of the 1980s.

On another note, when I bought Edu's CD, I noticed 2 CDs bearing the picture of Kris Aquino. I think the music featured in them are her favorites? I'm not exactly a Kris Aquino fan so I didn't bother to check them out.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

The happy Mom ... me




Yesterday, the mom of the classmate of my son told my husband the music playing in their car was of my son playing the guitar/piano and/or singing. that made me beam when I found out. Earlier, my son said he was known to some people in UP whom he had never met for the same reason. A number he doesn't know have his music in their IPODs. How heartwarming. Months ago, my sisters were in the house and we played music my son uploaded into his Multiply account over the computer so my sisters could hear them. In the meantime, my son's classmates arrived. they had to proceed to our bedroom as my sisters and I were in the dining area. As they walked towards the room, one classmate commented, "Astig, music mo ang pinapatugtog." That he recognized it was proof positive that he knew my son's music, listened to it, and maybe uploaded it to his IPOD.

********************

He has become a member of a singing group. He is one of 3 who's an undergrad. the rest are professionals/working people. They practice twice a week, late into the night. He and his friend performed with the group for the first time last Friday. they seemed like a happy group. I've only met two of them previously from my son's high school affiliation. Several gays there, but funny gays. One of them said, when my son told him he'd leave the house early the next morning to play basketball, "Basket? pare, sama ako... basket weaving." I can't wait to get to know them. they have some weddings lined up, possibly a recording next year. And the best part: once a month they'll sing at Sunday mass in the parish church of one of the members. Also, because of this latest membership, my son helped change a flat tire when the car of one of the girls in the group suffered one. In his high school affiliation, I was pleased that between learning about God and how to sing, act, dance, the boys were taught to hammer things together, clean the bathroom, sweep the floor, etc.

On being a wedding ninang

Sure it's an honor but it costs. Never mind the present, but getting a dress made is what I'm talking about, plus shoes, plus a bag, and worse jewelry to match. I think I'll borrow from a sister. Anyway, yesterday, hied off to MICO in Shangrila to get one done. Being in a wheelchair limits my choices. Another limiting factor is my hugeness plus my being conservative. A cousin who was asked to stand as godmother previously got a proxy, I have been thinking of doing the same. But the bride and groom will be disappointed, my husband said. So...

The in-house designer was cordial enough, so unlike the women in a previous visit in the same shop who snootily told me years ago that labor for a blouse cost P1000. This time around, before we got to the in-house designer who was talking over her cellphone, the lady who welcomed us in was young and pleasant. She entertained us at first as the designer was taking forever on the phone. She showed us swatches of cloth and when she found out the color motif and my wish to have a pants-blouse ensemble rather than a gown, she promptly pointed to brown taffeta to combine with the beige one for the blouse. Getting the designer to design a blouse for me was more tedious. She designed a blouse with a collar. I told her, not too low. Then she proceeded to draw tacks, I said that might make the blouse tight, she insisted it was necessary. In the meantime, the parents of my son's classmate came in and muddled the issue, the husband especially, by issuing comments. I wanted to ignore him because he kept butting in. Anyway, the designer drew a v-neck blouse with ruffles. I was aghast. I said, how thick are the ruffles, she showed me a sample, I said no. I had decided on the one with the collar, which was a bit assymetrical. One part of the collar was to have a shirr and beads, gold ones. Then the sleeves-- she drew bubble sleeves. I told her that might make me even fatter she said no. I said that might quickly go out of fashion, she said it was in -- but for how long, I asked. She didn't answer. She said she wanted to put a sash but decided not to because I was seated anyway. I showed her my sample blouse so I needn't be measured. She noticed there were no tacks except for one on each side and she said she'd just follow it. In the meantime, the father of my son's classmate asked, "when's the wedding?" I told you he kept butting in. When I said "January 2" he said but you might gain weight till then. So when should I have my blouse made, January 1? Darn him. Meanwhile, he also remarked when I said the neckline might be too low, that's true because everyone will be looking down at you. Oh boy. I had to remind the designer to have the length of the sleeves measured as the blouse I brought had long sleeves, while the one she designed was 3/4. Later I also told her, what about how deep the blouse should go? She called the sewer again. I asked her for a sample of the sleeves she was suggesting. She said there was none. Then when I looked at the racks from where I was, I saw a blouse which seemed to measure up to what she drew. I pointed it to her and she said I was right. Very phlegmatic, distracted, inept. But she could draw. Maybe her youth was behind her indecision? I don't really know. She laughed when I said, "Strict ang parents ko" because she wanted the opening of the blouse a bit low.

Though I paid a 50 percent deposit, I told her to hold sewing it first. I think I'll go back there to talk to the owner who might have a better design. Hopefully, there will no longer be a kibitzer making wry comments next time around.

CYMA yet again

CYMA has become synonymous with Edsa Shangrila for us, if we are lucky enough to get a table, that is. The waiters there are friendly, and there's one who was particularly welcoming yesterday. I guess because he has seen us often enough. My son ordered an appetizer, a cheese dip with pita bread. A bit on the spicy side because floating on it is a huge green pepper. My husband threatened to crush it to make it even spicier, but luckily, he was kidding. Husband ordered gindara, very simply cooked so it tasted clean -- i think in olive oil and just a few other spices. It was served in a small platter and was rather pricey at P450. But healthy, I suppose because that was olive oil it was cooked in. My son ordered chicken kebab. The order came with two sticks of chicken cubes interspersed with vegetables, a few pieces of pita bread and a cheese-garlic-yogurt dip. That order was a steal at P280 but since he added a side order of roasted potatoes, the total came up to P360. I, on the other hand, ordered the pork chop which I did before. Two 3/4-inch pork chops came with two slices of roasted potatoes and one rice-stuffed green bell pepper. The rice was orange (cooked in tomato) and had raisins in it. Very tasty. we'd have ordered the dessert skolatina which was recommended on a previous visit but the waiter said we'd have to wait 30 minutes. Skolatina is molten chocolate cake but they serve it with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. P230 per order but we have yet to try it. We just might next time, if we order it early enough.

As usual, the place was packed and we had to wait a bit before we were led to our table. The wait was well worth it, as expected. I lifted the photo of CYMA from www.unlawyer.net/wp-content/photos/cyma_greek...

Favorite TV commercials



EDEN cheese - it starts out in a classroom of maybe 3rd graders. It's work ed class and the students made friendship bracelets. Before dismissal, the teacher said they should give what they made to their best friend. All but one proceeds to tie said bracelet on the wrist of one or other classmate. But one girl pauses to think, smiles, and rushes out to the playground where her mom has her lunchbox ready. She gets the cheese sandwich and then ties the bracelet in her mother's wrist -- the unspoken message here is that her mom is her best friend. How touching. each time I see it, I can't help but smile.

NEOZEP - I find this so bizarre but my son seriously thinks it's an intelligent commercial because it's so stupid people will tend to remember it. It has become a series of sorts where the housegirl and the son of the matron of the house fell in love in the first of the series. By the nth installment, the maid and her master who have since been married, are in a party, but not together. The houseboy/gardener sneezes and talks to the ex-maid. then from out of the bushes, the master appears and looks like he's about to hit the houseboy. The master shouts, "Aha" and proceeds to accost the houseboy. No, not to shout at him, but to give him a sheet of Neozep tablets. Then the three of them walk off together smiling. No enmity there.

Philippine Politics


First there was the ZTE-NBN deal gone kaput. JDVIII was an earful, very articulate and expressive, an Escudero in the making in terms of speech, bravura, audacity. Of course Escudero is better looking.

Then came the Glorietta blast. (Picture above is from http://images.google.com.ph/imgres?imgurl=http://images.newsmax.com/ap/50067136-0157-486e-b601-27c2f200236a.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.newsmax.com/international/philippines_explosion/2007/10/19/42248.html&h=341&w=512&sz=57&hl=tl&start=17&um=1&tbnid=uCQr6mIRWLeoeM:&tbnh=87&tbnw=131&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dglorietta%2Bblast%26ndsp%3D20%26svnum%3D10%26um%3D1%26hl%3Dtl%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26channel%3Ds%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26sa%3DN)
Methane gas? Whoa. Not according to the Chemical engineers of UP who are the experts more than the military, I would think. For while indeed the military may have been trained on bomb detection and such, the UP professors have many years, tomes and books read and maybe, written, among them, making them more credible. Rajah Soliman Movement claimed responsibility for the bombing. Rajah who? When people didn't seem to bite the idea, the methane gas proposition was advanced. Methinks they should get a more knowledgeable and credible scriptwriter. One news columnist (Willy Esposo, I think) suggested it was a US operation. My oh my.

What came next? The executive clemency given to Erap. Sure, Erap looks pitiful visiting his ill mother, waving at people. But like a group suggested, so let's all commit crimes because people are let off so easily. Those who choose to heed such advice should think twice about doing so. Erap is Erap, you may not be as well-placed and therefore, not as fortunate. Another group said, so what was the trial for if absolution would be given so shortly after? Moro-moro yet again? (Although my husband recalls how President Ford granted President Nixon clemency shortly after he was declared guilty of the Watergate scandal. whatever... oh and Ford also mentioned it was one of the most difficult decisions he had to make. GMA, as read by Bunye, said as much.)

The reactions of the past Philippine presidents are a study in contrast. First of was FVR's who said Erap's release will create problems for the administration. In sharp contrast was Cory's who said something about reconciliation being a good thing. So why hasn't she reconciled with the Marcoses? Oh yes, maybe because they haven't asked for forgiveness, a requirement she declared years ago.

Regardless, how messy things are in Philippine government...

(Re the Glorietta blast, a cousin, her daughter, her two grandchildren and two maids were among the victims. My cousin's ear had to be stitched, the back of her granddaughter too, one maid fractured something and had to undergo surgery. GMA visited them, the US Embassy sent flowers because my cousin's daughter is a US citizen.)

Sunday, October 21, 2007

New Discoveries: Omakase and Booktopia




This morning, shortly before 11, the widow of a good friend called to invite us to lunch, it being the birthday of her good friend who's also my co-parent in my son's org. Not wishing to disappoint the one who invited us, I immediately concurred but when she mentioned the name of the restaurant, Omakase, and said it was in Eastwood, I asked if it was accessible. In Eastwood, though there are elevators, there are portions that have steps leading to certain areas. She promised to get back to me.

When she called almost an hour later, she jubilantly said there was an elevator. So off we went.

The building is but two floors which made me skeptical about the existence of an elevator. Never would I have imagined a two-floor building's bothering to invest in one. But it did and a spacious one at that. Shame on the elevator in The Spa in Tagaytay Highlands. Shame on the elevator in Glorietta.

Omakase, as the name hints at, is a Japanese restaurant. Sorry, but I don't know what it means. It doesn't have the classy look of Kimpura but it is clean and well lit. And the customers are a decent lot. And the food was marvelous. We left the ordering to our hosts (the widow brought along her son) who must have ordered at least 5, maybe more, kinds of sushi and at least two kinds of sashimi: tuna and salmon. The son also ordered beef teppanyaki, shrimp tempura, gindara, and chicken teppanyaki. He also ordered cold noodles for himself alone which came in what looked like a bento box. He didn't think anyone else would like it and no one minded because there was just so much food. When his mom asked him what it was and he answered "Cold noodles" I thought of my Koreanovelas, haha. And the son could pass for an actor-- very good looking, he bears a resemblance to Diether Ocampo, and very intelligent. Back to the food.

The sushis he ordered included the more common california maki, a tuna maki with cheese I think, one he teased us was spider maki (it was actually soft-shell crab) which I liked. He also ordered a mixed seafood maki which had scallops and eel. Everything just tasted so good. we also ordered rice -- but I hardly touched my fried rice as there was just so much food and of course they were all filling as the makis have rice to begin with. Good company, good food, what more could one ask for? Made me count my blessings, they did.

After lunch, we went our separate ways. When we had arrived before the lunch, I saw this place Booktopia. Netopia is an Internet cafe, so I was curious what Booktopia was about. I asked my son and husband if they wanted to check it out and my son promptly opened the door to it, saying that the son of the widow said they had good books in Booktopia(Told you the son's intelligent, so he reads). We were impressed. Though the store wasn't that huge, the selections were very good. My husband found the collection of poetry by Borges which he couldn't find in Power Books and Fully Booked, much less National. My son bought a book, two books, in fact, as did my husband, while I bought a magazine. I seldom buy books because there are so many I haven't read yet and I always worry about where to put all the books the two of them buy-- which is why my dream house will have a huge library so that all the books we have will be in one room, not in several rooms as they are now, not in the sala, the hallway, the bedrooms. But I digress.

Booktopia also had this quaint book marks called Literary Luminaries which were paintings, caricature style - if they were pictures, they would appear like they were taken with wide angle lens or fish eye- of yes, literary luminaries like Virginia Woolf, Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Hemingway, Lewis Carroll, Edgar Allan Poe, etc. At P100 each, not bad. But I thought to myself, there are so many substitutes I can just get in lieu of real bookmarks here in the house. Cheapskate, no?

When we got home, my husband noticed that the books they purchased had one bookmark each-- free, bearing the logo of Booktopia. It also contained the bookstore's address and guess what, the building that houses these great finds is called "Intrepid Plaza". How erudite the owner of the buildings must be. Oh, and by the way, my son said of the way books were classified in the bookstore, "Very intelligent classifications".

An aside, as they were browsing, I made small talk with the sales girl who was all alone. I asked if she were bored in the bookstore. She admitted she was. I asked, "Don't you read?" She said, "no." I told her she should. She merely smiled. I pointed out to her that she should take advantage of all the books around her which she could read for free. Though I didn't see a cellphone, I'm almost sure that's how she keeps busy, tinkering with it. Though to her credit, she didn't seem to have it nearby unlike so many sales clerks and elevator girls in the other malls.

Another by the way thing. The building is along E Rodriguez, Libis, not in Eastwood. The landmarks are Pizza Hut and Rufo's which are housed in the same complex. there's also a stall selling Lotto tickets. If you're along Libis, coming from Makati, it's after Shopwise. And you know what? As soon as we were out of the car, the aroma wafting in the air reminded me of my childhood. A certain restaurant - Little Quiapo or a Magnolia place -- which carried a distinct smell. Each time I smell it I just remember myself as a little child. I cannot describe it in words, my nose just knows and remembers.

One more thing. As we were eating I saw Alya Honasan, Gringo's sister, and her mom. Alya so looks like Gringo. When I pointed them out to my husband, he naughtily said, "that's not the mom, that's Gringo." What made him say that? When Gringo was last caught, some articles mentioned that sometimes he would assume the disguise of a nun. But of course the mom couldn't have been him. She was small and stooped.

How safe is Greenhills?




Two nights ago, I saw a footage of the writer Isah Red being interviewed. His BMW was parked in the Greenhills Commercial Center and it had been broken into. The window was in smithereens and his laptop was gone, a Mac, I think.

How safe is Greenhills? Someone assured him they'd pay for the damage and lost laptop, but what about the files? Though if truth be told, Isah should have known better because laptops are easy prey for thieves. Along Katipunan fronting Blue Ridge is a laptop pawnshop. I find that really crude because somehow, while it serves a purpose -- for a student out of money who needs cash-- it also encourages the stealing of laptops. Ateneo students have been targets on campus. But what did I mean when I wrote Isah should have known better? Weeks back there was news of a young lady's laptop being taken from her car too. And the police have been warning the public against leaving valuables in the car.

But as Isah reasoned, "But this is a private place, there's a security guard outpost nearby so I thought it was safe." Perish the thought Isah.

Way back when my son was in Prep, maybe 11 or 12 years ago, our car was taken in Greenhills. Thank God not at knife or gunpoint, just taken. We were there to watch the Ateneo-sponsored premiere of Angels in the Outfield in the afternoon. After the movie, I asked the maid to leave the angel wings my son used when he was asked to go onstage. The maid also put in the helmet he wore, a cheap one but special because he had stuck several different kinds of stickers on it. Then we did the groceries.

When we went back to the car, the grocery boy with us, the car was no longer where we parked it. We thought we had mistakenly remembered - okay, forgotten-- where we had parked the car but we were certain, actually that we had parked it in that place (across Virra Mall) and it just wasn't there. It felt like a nightmare. I mean who'd want to steal a car that was then 20 years old, a Colt Galant that had been overhauled so many times yet refused to start with one click? It had to be pushed on occasion to run. Aghast, we went to the security office of Greenhills and to the police outpost nearby, yes nearby. The policeman there had a radio. They told us to go to San Juan police, which we did riding a white, Ilonggo taxi or something to do with my province. We filed a report, still incredulous. But we thanked our lucky stars that we weren't in it when the car was taken.

The parents of my husbands students offered to help, one of them was a colonel. He got the details, so did several others. nothing happened. two weeks later, I got a call from the Makati police. He asked for me and said the car had been found in the Quad carpark 3 days after we lost it. So why did it take them so long to call us? Who knows?

We told one of the parents of a student of my husband who has clout in Makati that the car had been found but we were scared to claim it as we might be asked for grease money, so she called her police friends to help us out. When we went to the police station, the policeman on duty chided us for seeking out this friend whose plice friend must have told them about us. He was needling me to admit I didn't trust them, which was true. I brought out my rosary and novenas because I wasn't sure how things would turn out. In the meantime, Bong Daza dropped by to give the police Jollibee foodstuff -- nothing to do with our case, just an aside. Ultimately, we got the car but its battery wasn't in it. We had brought a friend's mechanic along to make sure it would start and he saw the slot for the battery was empty. The police said they had removed the battery. What the...? Why on earth? Then they gave us back the battery -- it was small and white. Big deal. Of course it wasn't the car's but we let that pass. We wanted to leave the police station as quickly as possible, no point arguing.

Up till now we have no idea who took the car. Also we wonder why the person/persons who took it left it in Quad? One thought, maybe it refused to start. (My husband thinks, maybe the thieves were in cahoots with the Greenhills police and were told the owner was a disabled person so pity her.) Also, why did they get such an old car to steal? How stupid. Why didn't they choose a newer, more plush car? Silly. Imagine, had they been caught, they'd have been punished for taking such a not-worth stealing car. Amateurs? Or were they planning to use it for some dastardly act?

Oh and the angel's wings were still there, but not my son's helmet. Sadly...

Following was a forwarded mail I'd like to share

A father’s letter written to the Headmaster of a school in which his son was studying.

It contains an advice, which is still relevant today for executives, workers, teachers, parents and students.



The Letter



He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just and are not true.

But teach him if you can, the wonder of books, but also give him quiet time to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun and flowers on a green hillside.

In school, teach him it is far more honourable to fall than to cheat.....

Teach to have faith in his own ideas, even if everyone tells him he is wrong.

Teach him to be gentle with gentle people and tough with the tough.

Try to give my son the strength not to follow the crowd when everyone getting on the bandwagon...

Teach him to listen to all men; but teach him also to filter all he hears on a screen of truth, and take only the good that comes through.

Teach him, if you can, how to laugh when he is sad

Teach him there is no shame in tears.

Teach him to scoff at cynics and to be beware of too much sweetness

Teach him to sell his brawn and brain to highest bidders, but never to put a price on his heart and soul.

Teach him to close his ears to a howling mob.. and stand and fight if thinks he is right.

Treat him gently, but do not cuddle him, because only the test of fire makes fine steel.

Let him have the courage to be impatient.. Let him have the patience to be brave.

Teach him always to have sublime faith in himself, because then he will have faith in humankind.

This is a big order, but see what you can do. . He is such a fine little fellow my son!

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Memories of Iloilo



Lolo lived in Iloilo and we visited him a lot summers. This noon, as I was being wheeled homed from the grocery, I saw two Magnolia carts plying their wares. Their drivers were riding a bike, the cart in front of them, a tune, probably electronically produced, calling attention to the ice cream. Seeing and hearing them evoked memories of Iloilo and how excitedly we'd step out of Lolo's house to buy popsicle whenever we'd hear and/or see the Magnolia cariton bell tinkling. The Magnolia man didn't ride a bike but pushed the cart the whole day. He had a counterpart, the dirty ice cream man but we were forbidden to buy from him, the operative word there being "dirty". the few times we were able to (furtively, I think), we enjoyed the experience. Very yummy.

Another maglibod in Iloilo was the corn person. Corn was placed in a kaing lined with newspaper. The corn was smoking hot. We'd always ask the maglibod if we could peer at the corn so we could check if the corn was soft enough or if the kernels weren't too far apart, though I preferred the latter to closely placed kernels that usually spelled "tough". Corn then was not the sweet corn or Japanese variety. It was a pale yellow and very sticky. Since those days I've only eaten the likes of it once here in Manila.

Memories of Iloilo meant walking to the shore near Lolo's house. I liked soaking my feet in the water except that as the shore was littered with nipa huts, I saw human waste along it once. So I'd wait for Mama or the driver to take us to "cota" where we'd walk on water and pick up different shapes and hues of stones. Very refreshing experience that. we'd also buy some inasal in the kiosks around. One time as we were seated on one of the benches, my sister and I decided we'd speak English. Suddenly I blurted out, yawning "I'm so tuyo". yes the English term for it slipped my mind - sleepy. I was so embarrassed.

Iloilo also meant going to Villa Beach to buy lechon manok, lechon and sticky coconut bibingka. Lechon was bought per kilo, chicken as wholes. Mama and I wouldn't wait to reach Lolo's' house to eat. we'd start eating in the car. Sometimes we'd stop at the house of the Jison family (Hizon?) to buy pina or jusi for Papa's barong. we'd also stop to watch the lady weave. sometimes the owner would give me a wallet for free which had the word "Philippines" spelled out. Sometimes we'd buy some ourselves for pasalubong to the maid. Pasalubong. That was a Mama practice. She never failed to buy something to bring home to the maid, driver, boy whenever we'd go to Manila or Iloilo.

Sometimes we'd go to Panaderia de Molo where Mama would buy cans of their bakery products: the green can without holjaldres, the red can with hojaldres. We'd also go to Lucy's pinasugbo where we'd get to sample hot pinasugbo right off the pan laced with sugar.

Oh, for those days, mama and Lolo.

Oh yes, we also went to Asilo de Molo, an orphanage where Mama had a gown(?) made for San Nicholas de Tolentino, our town's patron saint. we had his statue at home which Mama lent to the parish on his fiesta.

we'd also go to the bodega where Lolo's 4 caros were kept. We'd watch as the encargado of the farm led the men in trying out the generator and checking the bulbs of the caro. We'd help fix the flowers of the caro and sometimes, we'd go up the Last Supper because it was huge.

And on the feast of Sta. Rita, we'd go to Molo church to decorate the altar with daisies we bought from one of the gardens in the outskirts. we'd also arrange roses for giving away on aluminum trays.

One summer, Lolo was sick so Mama stayed an entire month in Iloilo to take care of him. I joined her and enjoyed going to two stores there: Central Trading and Fatima where I'd get books for my teacher-teacher.

As I try to remember those days, more memories come back but those I've written should suffice for now.

On Fasting before Receiving the Holy Eucharist


In an earlier blog, I wrote about fasting before receiving Holy Communion. Researched on the matter as bugsybee confirmed what a friend had said, two friends, in fact, a couple. Following is what I found from the website of ewtn (www.ewtn.com/faith/teachings/euchb2a.htm)

370, What are the current rules for fasting before Holy Communion?

(a) For many centuries the Church commanded a strict fast from midnight before one could receive Holy Communion. However, in the 1950's Pope Pius XII introduced a much more lenient form of fasting before Holy Communion in order to give Catholics an opportunity to receive Holy Communion more frequently.

(b) Pope Pius XII also allowed the celebration of afternoon and evening Masses every day, when the spiritual good of a considerable number of the faithful requires it. It is the right of the bishop of each diocese to decide when such Masses may be offered in his diocese.

(c) Paul VI further reduced the fasting requirement after the Second Vatican Council, requiring only a one hour fast from all food and drink (excluding water). This may be reduced to 15 minutes for those who are sick or for other important reasons. This is the practice currently in force


Wow, all these years... I'll try to do better from hereon in. Thanks bugsybee.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Feeling Special



Reading the article of Conrado de Quiros brought back a particular memory -- no this isn't angst ridden--not at all. Back when I was working in the admissions office of a school I used to love, it was near five o'clock in the afternoon when the phone rang. When I picked it up, it was Fr. O'Brien asking who I was. He also asked if I could wait for his friends from Baguio who had come over all the way to submit an application form to the college. They were with him in the high school. I said I would, it wasn't a problem. He was concerned because offices, as a rule, closed at 5 pm.

I didn't have to wait long, I think he accompanied the young boy and his sister who came to submit the application form. That was quickly done with and I went home, not thinking about it.

The following day, lo and behold, the applicant gave me a bouquet of a dozen red roses to thank me for waiting for them. Up to now I recall that it came with a card indicating where it was bought, Perlie's near Quezon City Hall. Never mind that it wasn't obtained from a more plush flower shop, it was the gesture plus the fact that holding a bouquet of roses as I walked to the car made me feel like a beauty queen without a crown, a scepter or what would have merited them, guess what? Never mind. So I brought home the bouquet to show off to my sister though I would have wanted to give it to Mama Mary in the chapel. But I think Mama Mary must have understood how I felt then. After all, that was the first time ever I received such a gift of so many red, sweet smelling roses.

Hodgepodge of experiences - unnerving, disconcerting

I don't exactly like having to refer to her as the village or town idiot but this lady was often referred to in our town as "Luz buang". She was tall and lean, she could have been a model. She had nice features and straight salt and pepper hair. Sometimes I'd catch her walking languidly, humming or singing to herself. One reason I heard explaining why she became deranged was her having been abused/raped by someone. A Japanese? I now forget.

I tried to avoid her because one never knows which end of the stick one would get from people like her so though I had never seen her in a violent fit, I subscribed to the dictum "Better to be safe than sorry". Anyway...

When I was in grade and high school, I'd sometimes join Mama when she walked to church for the 5:30 a.m. mass. When I didn't wake up early enough, I'd just follow as soon as I was ready. It must have been in high school when this incident happened because though I had been wearing glasses since Grade 3, that one particular morning, I didn't. So I couldn't find Mama when I got to church. True, she was always in her San Antonio brown dress but so were some others. The church in our town was huge and long and I was late, so I simply sat in one of the pews a few rows after where we'd normally sit. As I prayed, I felt someone tapping my shoulder. When I turned, it was Luz buang. She said, in the vernacular, "your mama is there." I didn't scream, I meekly nodded even if I was unsure if it was really Mama she was pointing to because I couldn't really see. whew...

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A few years ago, I was confined for surgery. One morning, bleary eyed, having just woken from sleep, I saw a black veiled woman beside me. Now black-veiled women remind me of the witch in fairy tales. Think Snow White's witch. I nearly screamed -- who are you and what are you doing here? But before I could, I realized she was a Muslim intern, clad in the traditional veil and gown of the Muslims in Greenhills. She asked me a few questions and I answered her. Actually, what I wanted to do was ask her questions too, but Muslims really scare me. The fear began years ago when Mama and I watched Zamboanga starring Susan Roces and Fernando Poe. FPJ was forever fighting Muslims especially the juramentados. A few days after that first encounter with the Muslim intern, I saw her again and had the same fearful reaction, but I caught myself earlier than before.

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Years ago too, we were in Greenhills, near the entrance of Virra Mall. We had just bought squid balls and were eating it near the kiosk where we got it. Suddenly, there were three or four Muslims shouting at a hapless security guard and punching him silly. I tugged at my husband's shirt to tell him we should move away but being the typical male, he watched on. I tugged harder and so we left. Later we found out that the security guard had asked one Muslim to move aside somewhere. The said Muslim threatened the guard he'd get his friends to get back at the guard. He kept good his word. Scary.....

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Note that I don't hate Muslims. But I must admit they scare me. I hope that's different? Besides, I think the Muslim intern/resident of the hospital should have been garbed like all the other interns/residents, or is there something in the religion that stipulates otherwise? Also, I have a student who married a Muslim and we're fine. So there. Just want to be clear on that. I don't want to pick any fights here or to be charged as being something-phobic.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

My Cook



I am hungry but my cook is moves so slowly. Some 15 minutes ago, I asked her to fry fish for me. The fish isn't done yet. Some 7 minutes ago, I called Jollibee to order nacho overload, double cheese burger and two pieces fried chicken for my son and voila, they're here now, ready to be eaten. I'm amazed. I'm impressed.

My cook really takes her sweet time doing chores. One time I asked her to pour the pastel stuffing into the pyrex and was I stunned. As she tried to flatten them in the pyrex, her strokes made her look like a painter doing work on a canvas. Very sllllllllllllloooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwww. No wonder I seem to have ulcers, though I hope I am wrong. Sometimes, though it can turn out more expensive, I buy food rather than have her cook. Or I ask her to prepare a meal two or three hours in advance. If it weren't pathetic, it would be funny.

More later. The fish has arrived. Alleuluia. She smiled when I told her Jollibee arrived before the fish did. Embarrassed? Not at all. She said, instead, that the chorizo I had her cook earlier was really sour. I asked how she knew. Can you guess? She filched/pinched a morsel, she said. oh mmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyy.

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I downloaded the images from the Internet. The cook looks as grouchy as my cook, Jollibee seems to be laughing at her. Honest, their positions (layout) and looks weren't deliberately chosen. I just found them cute. But on hindsight, they look apt.

Disabled-Friendly People/Estalishments


I find it very considerate when an article ends with a sentence or words signifying the accessibility of a restaurant or resort. The last I read which had that was one written by Margaux Salcedo in the Sunday Inquirer Magazine. How thoughtful. (She wrote on IN-YO).

SM malls are also particularly attentive to the needs of the wheelchair bound. Years back we had this standing joke, my husband and I, that whenever the CSRs (customer service relations) people saw me, they looked the other way or fled because otherwise, they'd have to escort me to the elevator near their storage area. Back then, the elevators weren't for customer use and were therefore not evident unless one asked. When Megamall came to be, however, SM became very disabled-friendly. It has even hired elevator girls who would explicitly tell customers wishing to ride the elevator to let the disabled get in first. Or if no one would budge, the girl would return for the disabled, express style, to ensure there would be room for the wheelchair bound. How nice. SM Malls were the first (and possibly the only ones) to have wheelchairs available for rent (or borrowing) for those who needed it while shopping in the mall. Their theaters except for the one in Podium, are wheelchair friendly as well. (I haven't seen the one in Podium for obvious reasons but a friend told me there were steps leading to the theater).

Now watching movies on a wheelchair is often a problem, except in Greenhills and Power Plant where there are ramps. In Shangrila, Gateway and Greenbelt, the theaters are built such that the wheelchair of the disabled have to be positioned on the first floor. The first Harry Potter movie was punishment for me. I couldn't wait for it to end. We watched it in Shangrila, the first time we ever watched a movie there, and the last time too, and I developed a stiff neck. I pitied my husband and son who had to suffer the same for my sake. Same with Gateway and Greenbelt, though not as bad, possibly because their first rows are farther from the screen.

Elevators are also a problem. Tagaytay Highlands is lovely. It's like what I would imagine Paradise to look like without the serpents lurking. But one of their lodges Spa has this tiny elevator where the wheelchair could just fit, and barely. At first we even thought it wouldn't. It was just so tiny. Even worse is the elevator in Glorietta where Hard Rock is. Glorietta has a bigger elevator but it stops operations early and doesn't provide access to Hard Rock. So we took the other elevator which was even smaller than the one in Tagaytay. Heavens, not only was it small but it closed so very quickly. Luckily for us, there were people who held the elevator button outside to keep it open long enough to let us through.

Restaurant tables are usually too low for the wheelchair bound to be positioned facing the table such that the person could eat off the table like a normal person. So i have mastered the art of eating side view or off my lap. Or to eat facing the table as though I were playing the piano with the chair moved back. That means straining my arms so I could reach my food. Offhand I cannot think of a restaurant that allows me to eat like a normal person but I'll be sure to take note of it if and when I find one.

Oh and there have been ramps in certain establishments where when you reach the top you don't see access nor a pot of gold but a huge plant in a terracotta pot. Who's to move that if the disabled were alone?

Am I complaining? Not really because being disabled has shown me the good side of so many people as well. But such experiences should be written about in a separate blog.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

May I emote?

I have this friend who has a lot of angst and she'd call me, frankly saying at the start of the conversation, "I need to emote!" I'll do it myself now so I don't vent my ire at the maid I'm about to write about.

At 10 a.m., a friend of my son came. He was the first of six others who are here now for a meeting. At around 11, I had one maid go to the bank, okay two banks and then to Rustan's to buy soft drinks. She was aware that there were guests here in the house waiting. Around 11:30 she called, Rustan's she said had Coke lite only, no regular. So I suggested she go to Mercury nearby to get regular. Maybe 5 minutes later, she called, mercury didn't have stock either. I told her to go to Shoppers, maybe a ten-minute walk from Mercury, max. She came back an hour later. by then the boys had finished eating. By then I had spent P119 for smaller bottles of Coke (7 sakto at Php7 each and 7 8-oz bottles @ Php10 each) just so they'd be able to drink Coke while eating.

Okay, it's not so much the money "wasted" in the sense that the Coke she finally brought home won't go stale. Thing is where's the "service" element? Pagmamalasakit, konsiderasyon, insight? whatever term would best suit it, where was it? What took her so long? I asked the other maid who's very close to her why she took so long. Please, spare me the lies. I asked that maid point blank: did she go shopping pa? Yes she did. No problem there if there weren't any visitors waiting. there were. No problem there if she didn't know they were waiting. She did.

Will I meet her with silence and wait for the lies? I'm sure she'll have an excuse ready. like there were a lot of customers. But an hour? That's way too much and unbelievable. My mistake-- I shouldn't have given her salary before she left for the grocery. Lesson learned: I'll give their salaries late in the night next time. How mean? How practical. Anyway the law doesn't prescribe any time, right? Konsiderasyon naman, one might argue. But did she show it? Does she know what it is?

I rest my case.

Neither here nor there



A few weeks back, at the wake of a coparent's mother, one father was worried after the mass. He said, "parang may mali dun sa kinain nating hopia." I asked what he meant and he said, "di ba dapat one hour before the mass we shouldn't eat?" I said but that no longer holds. He said, "Really, when was the change made?" I said "Vatican II?" He said, "I don't think so." I said, "The Jesuits, maybe?" He laughed and said, "possibly." He said all this time his family members weren't allowed to grab a bite before hearing mass.

This morning his wife texted and among other things, I mentioned the incident to her. I thought she'd laugh, but instead she said the rule still holds. Oops... she even said she'd send me a copy of the edict. ooops again. She also said her husband was always laughing at her for being so conservative. So I said oh, then maybe it's the Jesuits who said it was ok to eat before mass? (One sister of mine said that only recently a Jesuit said it was perfectly all right to receive communion even if one came in late for the mass. He rationalized: it's just like going to a party. You eat even if you're late. But I digress...) Anyway, back to the wife. Her reaction after I suggested that maybe the Jesuits made up the rule, she said, yes, perhaps. She added that she always teases her Jesuit friends that SJ means "Sin Justifiers." hmmmm....

anyway, I'll look for a copy of that edict one of these days.

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Watched Stardust this afternoon. Normally movies of this genre really make me want to sleep or leave. So why did I watch it? My husband has been waiting for it for ages because he read Neil Gaiman's book and was enamored. Our son had a paper to finish so it was just my husband and I who watched, though before we left the house, I assured our son we'd watch it again with him tomorrow. (Have you noticed -- I have a persecution complex? joke). Anyway, the movie was a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be. The addition of a "chorus" like in a Greek play made it fun. The chorus was made up of ghosts who appeared in black and white. And there was a narrator who helped me follow the story (very helpful because my mind tends to wander about). And Robert de Niro was a riot! He is such a skilled actor, he always stands out in a movie no matter his role. The movie lasts just a few minutes beyond two hours. Watch it for de Niro. And watch it for the two leads: Clair Danes and the male lead who portrayed Tristan. They look well together and are good looking to boot.

At the start of Clair (Claire?) Danes' appearance in the movie I kept thinking about the negative remarks she made about the Philippines (dirty, etc.) years back, shortly after she came here to shoot a movie. But she was so into her character in Stardust that I glossed over her lack of tact. Forgive her? I'm not so sure I should...

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Speaking of lack of tact, a college friend came here to stay in the house some twenty years ago. She had the gall to point out that the light switches were dirty. I mean, hello, it wasn't as though I was charging her for her stay or the food she was eating. (Though I must admit I now look at the light switches to check if they're clean.) So how tactless of her. And she also said that my 5 year old son's drawings were not proportioned. The heads were too big for the rest of the body, she said. I was so hurt for my son who heard her say those nasty things. I haven't hosted her since. She called once to ask to see each other. I made all sorts of excuses and succeeded. We did bump into each other in a party and I was nice to her. But host her again? NEVER.

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Remember the baked goodies bazaar I said was in Power Plant for the month of September? Last weekend they were there for an "extended run." This weekend they're still there. I asked my suki how long they were staying. She said month of October. I said "sana permanent na lang." She answered, "I'll tell my boss." How cute -- as though it was as simple as that. Another funny thing re this outlet of brazo de mercedes. They sell it in two sizes: one mini and the other, small. But there was no whole or big. And listen to this: mini costs P170. Small costs P330. But guess what? Mini is two-thirds the size of the small. So why get the small? Poor mathematical sense. It happens a lot (in a lot of stores/outlets of various products) and just goes to show how people don't know their math enough to price to entice. And maybe, some buyers don't bother to think mathematically when they buy? I don't know for sure. Which reminds me of the book Freakonomics.

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My son's friend gave my son one on his birthday. He said he wanted to share a book he enjoyed reading. When I read the blurb outside, I thought it was cute. My son also told me he had read the first essay and suggested I should too. But being older, I didn't jump into the first essay but read the preface and explanatory note. Good grief, what I thought would be easy reading, one that would lead to a restful sleep, ended up bothering me. One contention in it was this: in the US, in the 1980s or 1990s (i forget which), the crime rate went down. The initial and immediate conclusion behind this phenomenon was the improved economic situation. But lo and behold, when they studied the matter further, it boiled down to one woman's having been decreed by a court not to have an abortion after which there were entities that fought to have abortion legalized. It was legalized in some states afterwards, and this, the book said, accounted for the low crime rate. Why? Because allegedly, those fetuses that were aborted were the type who, coming from the background they did, were prone to commit crimes. Their having been aborted meant they weren't around to commit the crime. A matter of predestination? I guess statistics bear out this bizarre conclusion. But does it mean one doesn't have a chance to change one's destiny? That one is doomed by one's genes to perdition? How odd. I guess they have found proof to this effect. But how sad.

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While we were in the movie house, my husband received a text message from a friend who said it was forwarded by someone from the police. It maintained that if one encounters a car whose headlights aren't on, one should just ignore it and not flash one's lights as would be the normal reaction. According to the text message, flashing one's lights would translate to being chased by that car and shot to death. The act is supposed to be an initiation rite of some group. Scary...

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In the Sunday Inquirer Magazine, one of the articles mentioned a YouTube entry of the Makati Police, several videos, in fact, on how to protect oneself while in the streets. I'll read the article again and post the link here if I don't forget. Okay, here it is: http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=makati+police+videos&search=Search. According to the police interviewed, real criminals helped them prepare the videos by telling them how they did what they did. boyoboyoboy.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Mismatched Deliberately


Over a year ago, I bought my son a pair of red and black Reef flip flops (smagol in Ilonggo). Okay so they cost much but were they worth it? A little later, found And One slippers (same style, different design) and bought a pair for him. This one was a few hundreds cheaper but (or and?) had a shorter life span. A few months ago, my son said the red pair had grown too smooth and therefore slippery due to lack of friction because they had grown worn. So, rather than have him slip and end up paying the doctor, I bought him Havianas. In between these purchases, husband got a pair of Bench flip flops. They were orange. This husband wore alternately with the Reef slippers but he was more partial to wearing the Bench ones(nationalistic? I don't think so). Anyway, a few weeks ago one of the Bench pair's "straps" got broken, and so did one of the Reef pair. Ironically, the two good ones were for different feet (one right, one left). SO husband who can be a Scrooge sometimes, thought of wearing one orange, one red slipper. Each time we'd go to the mall, I'd tell him I'd get him a new pair. He refused every time. Fine. (Note: he was gloating that he didn't want to buy the more expensive brand because as far as his experience went, their life spans were similar. Wrong, Reef's was longer. It was bought much earlier.)

But what do you know? I guess he forgot or didn't care, but he walked to the barbershop in the neighborhood using two aberrations. And when he came home, he said he saw the cashier cum janitress and the barber look curiously at his slippers. Wonder what they thought? That husband had Alzheimer's so he wore mismatched slippers?

A picture of the aberrations/absurdities are in this blog. I had son take them; hopefully I can have him take pictures of the flowers I was gushing about in an earlier blog. Thing is he wants to be "paid" for this. A few days back, a friend sent me a picture of him and his crush. I'd have sent it to him if he had let me read his essay in English class. He refused, so I did too. Tit for tat. Now for taking the picture of the slippers, he wants me to send him the picture my friend sent me. He wrote in the email containing the slippers' picture: TRADE.

harrummphhhhhhhhh...

Medicines

Why are some medicines phased out? Is it really true that they were found toxic or were they just so good that the patients stopped coming?

Years back my husband was prescribed Hismanal for his early morning colds. He took that for a month at least and lo and behold, his colds hardly came back. Now Hismanal which a US president purportedly took, is no more.

Dimetapp tablet was also very good. Now they no longer sell it in tablet form but as a syrup . And the main ingredient has been replaced.

Tonight my husband asked if I had Ornex. The doctor saw that his ear was clogged and prescribed the medicine. Ornex is the decongestant of choice of several doctors. But it no longer is sold in the Philippines but apparently, the doctor who prescribed it didn't know?

Years back I went to a doctor who prescribed me a medicine for my aching knees (he thought I had rheumatism). When I went to the drugstore, I was told it was not a capsule but a tablet (or vice versa), which was contrary to what was written in the doctor's prescription. When I called the doctor to verify, he seemed annoyed. Maybe he thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill?

Years back, a drug company was promoting a cough syrup on TV. Miguel Rodriguez was one of the show's hosts. He opened the bottle, took a sip and said, "it tastes good." That amused/dismayed me because who in his right mind takes a sip of a medicine for the sake of finding out how it tastes?

Years back I was made to drink Ipesandrine for my acute bronchitis. Years later I found out it had a narcotic ingredient. The medicine had a picture of leaves on the label -- wonder what those leaves were such that the medicine has since been pulled out of the market. But it was really effective.

Another medicine that helped me when I thought I would die because of asthma was Nethaprin Dospan. I think I was in grade school or early high school when I took it. Still another was Optalidon for my toothaches, a perennial problem way back. When I look for them in PIMS/MIMs, I no longer see them. Thank God they were around when I needed them.

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I just checked: Ipesandrine had opium/ephedrine. My goodness gracious!

Optalidon was mere Ibuprofen which comes in many different forms now.

before and after pictures









The layout is still a mess so just use your eyes well to decide which are the before and which the after pictures.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Sandwich again

Last night it was past midnight when my son arrived. He had been invited to audition for a choir and had just come home from it. He was hungry so I ordered food from McDO for him-- thank God for 24-hour delivery. One need not wake up a sleeping maid.

Now Sandwich -- no, not the one from McDO but the band. I was impressed. As I tried to stay awake to keep my son company, I was channel surfing when I chanced on MYX. There were two young men each holding an electric guitar so I stopped right there, almost certain my son would want me to. He looked up from his laptop and began to listen. As I did. The two men weren't playing the guitar non-stop. They were actually talking about playing the guitar. They taught different techniques and notes/chords and that truly impressed me. They were decently/cleanly dressed in clean looking T-shirts. Their haircuts were such that they wouldn't be nagged into going to the barber by their moms for one. I was really impressed. They weren't the head banging type, they could actually speak or walk the talk or rather talk the walk. Whatever...

So I shouldn't be fearful that my son will turn out to be a head banger despite his belonging to 2 bands. Sandwich is very reassuring.

Wedding Ninang


I have this much younger friend who years back began to call me Ninang in anticipation of the time she will get married. Yes, she said, she wanted me to be Ninang then. Thing is, she is prepared to walk down the aisle but for the absence of a groom. She's single till now.

Two days ago, a former co-teacher of my husband asked him and me (in absentia) to be godparents at their wedding. I'm 51 -- am I ready? Am I deserving?

Back in the 1980s, I was with a much older cousin in her kitchen and she was anxious: she had just been asked to be Ninang and she was 40. That made her feel really old, she said.

Why does being asked raise so many questions/issues? True, it is an honor to be asked besides which there are superstitions that refusing will bring bad luck to the couple. But on what bases are the choices made?

I know for a fact that some choose godparents on the basis of wealth and power, but so are there choices grounded on the perception that the person asked is ideal -- as an ideal individual or as half of an ideal couple. But really, things may not seem as they appear.

Underneath the sheen may be cracks deliberately concealed or effortlessly so. I remember how people like Nora Aunor were often described as magaling magdala ng problema.

There was also an instance where someone was asked to stand as Ninang by a classmate whom she teased as having run out of barkada to ask because by then the classmate was into her sixth child. Usually with the first child one is so excited one gets everyone virtually to stand as ninang.

So what really should be the basis for choosing a ninang? I really don't know because all of us being human, we often times fail to say what lies beneath. Are there undercurrents lurking somewhere we can't see? What will the future bring? Will that person be the same good individual you thought he/she was?

Nothing is certain, one can only hope and pray.

What should we do...



In one YAHOO page, a question was posted, supposedly by Chris Tiu, as to what we should do to interest people in the Philippines in sports other than basketball. Fancy that considering that Chris Tiu is a basketball player. The question reminded me of another issue that is somehow similar in a subtle way...

Months back, in a contest in Eat Bulaga, the participants were very young ballroom dancers, and when I say young, I mean dancers who weren't yet in their teens. When one of them was asked if she could dance the tinikling, she looked puzzled. When one of the hosts asked her if she knew what tinikling was, she shook her head. She didn't know what maglalatik was either. How sad. Can't schools teach those dances again or invite performers to show these to the students?

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Fuller lips








It's the fault of Angelina Jolie. After Tomb Raider where she was so attractive with a trim body and full, full lips, the Filipinas took notice and worked on having leaner bodies. They also had their lips injected for these to be fuller. I'll try to upload before and after pictures here. How did I know about the injection thing? Joyce Jimenez admitted it and said the procedure had to be repeated after every few weeks (or was it months?) The reason I thought of writing about this was seeing Kaye Brosas on The Sweet Life last night. She had her upper and lower lips injected apparently and was very conscious, maybe uncomfortable with the extra baggage. She looked pitiful. I didn't think there was anything wrong with her lips before... How do injected lips look? Think of how your lips look after an ant has bitten them. They're swollen-looking.

Just uploaded Gretchen's two pictures and the layout is a mess. Pops fuller lips picture is under Angelina Jolie's. I'll post the pictures again in a separate blog. Just the pictures.

Manny Pacquiao on SIS and the state of Philippine media from a bed potato's viewpoint





A few minutes ago, I watched SIS, curious whether Chris Tiu would join Manny Pacquiao in his first incursion on Philippine TV after his victory over Barrera 4 days ago. Chris wasn't with him but some things I noted were the following:

1. Manny Pacquiao is polite. When Paolo Bediones who was seated behind him asked him a question, Paolo interjected as Manny began to answer, "Don't look back you might get a stiff neck". At the time Paolo said that, the camera was not on Manny who was answering the question (yes some TV cameramen aren't alert). Anyway, as Manny continued to speak, the cameras finally zoomed in on him and this time he still appeared to turn so he could look at Paolo as he answered. I'm impressed. Way back when I was much, much younger, Papa always said "When you talk to someone or vice versa, always look at the person in the eye." Manny was doing just that.

2. German Moreno asked Manny how he found Kyla's singing of the National Anthem. Manny answered, "ok lang," GM said, "Okay lang?" Kyla who was seated nearby merely smiled, while GM was trying hard to elicit more effusive comments from MP. Why do people on TV who ask questions-- be they tv show shost or news anchors-- persist with their questions even if these have been answered if the answers given weren't what they expected? I think this is downright impolite. And watch out when they ask questions... they answer it before the subject who is supposed to do it does.

Another thing with GM, he had a follow up question asking MP why he didn't drop by for the motorcade in Manila when the people there were waiting. MP said he didn't get an invitation until on the plane. By then it was too late to change plans. This time GM said, but you have no plans of disappointing them, right? You'll go there? MP was trying to think up an answer when Gelli interrupted and changed the subject matter. GM can be so pushy. Poor Manny. Good thing Gelli sensed the tension there.

I stopped watching at that point. I didn't like GM's bullying MP.

Like mosquitoes, why are there so many bullies in this world? In the Senate or Congress, they also abound.