Sunday, June 21, 2009

Maid A, please pray for her

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

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

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

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

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

Please pray things turn out all right for her.

Thank you.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Maid A aka tarya queen

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


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

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

Friday, May 8, 2009

Wedding Ninang 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friday, April 10, 2009

Visita Iglesia ala Driving Miss Daisy





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally we hit Libis and home.

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

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

Saturday, April 4, 2009

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

A full day

and I'm tired now.

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Friday, March 27, 2009

Hodgepodge

Last night was the graduation of the Grade 7 boys in the school where my husband teaches. As is his wont, at the end of the party, he gets a flower arrangement from one of the tables to take home to me. Here are some pictures:

Tonight, son came home from Serendra where he and his classmates unwound after their exams this afternoon. He brought home the best tasting cupcakes I've ever tasted for the simple reason that they were a surprise: cupcakes by Sonja. Pictures of the lovely pasalubongs:

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Benjamin

Dale hasn't been gone a week (he passed away 19 March) but his vet advised we get a "replacement" and so I began the search for one. A friend who knew Dale said a relative had a half-breed lab that was really ugly, did we want it? She also had an askal who was pretty, did we want it? Then she said a relative had a lab for sale, did we want it?

Initially, husband and I were inclined to get the free half-breed and it wouldn't have been too difficult to check him out as he stays in a house along a street just perpendicular to ours. But son said he'd be big-- and son wanted a dog he could bring inside the house. So subconsciously, we didn't get round to checking HB out.

Last Sunday, aware that the Manila Bulletin has classified ads galore, I got a copy. I don't get MB precisely for that reason - too many ads. But last Sunday, I did for the same reason I avoid it. I called just one number, the rest were cellphone numbers and I was too lazy to text and it would have been too expensive to call. The one who took my call said to call again Monday as there wasn't anyone in the office. I was taken aback there, but oddly, I called Monday. Again the one who knew about the puppies was out, could I text that person instead? THe lady also informed me the dog was in Alfonso Cavite. What? SO where was the number I was calling? Quezon City, I was told. COuldn't the dog be brought over? She said to get in touch with the cellphone number she gave. I did.

The dog available was a beagle. Before long, the man I spoke with sent a picture through the cell. Three pictures in fact. He agreed to get the puppy from Cavite provided I was sure to buy the puppy. I promised I would. Our date was Tuesday.

Tuesday he sent a video. He was in Cavite. But it was the video of a different dog, not the mostly white with brown spots. This time it was the mostly brown (they call it lemon) with a few areas of white. I asked him about it and he said he had sent the pictures of Alice. He apologized. And he asked if I still wanted to get the puppy. I said yes.

So now we have Benjamin, a beagle born 24 December 2008. And one of his vaccinations took place on my birthday. And we got him yesterday, 3 months after he was born and on the 31st death anniversary of my mother and my brother's 36th death anniversary.

Husband picked him up by himself and while at first he was seated beside my husband, along the way he jumped onto my husband's lap and stayed there till they got home. Son texted while in the resto to ask if doggie was at home. I said yes. He swooned when he saw Benjamin finally and set out looking for something for Benjamin to sleep on. we got one of our old pillows and put atop it an old, tattered towel. Not content, my son looked for another tattered towel to serve as blanket for Benjamin. And so he slept. Soundly. Peacefully.

This morning he had his first breakfast in the house. Guess what he eats per the breeder? Raw chicken wings and neck. I asked the maid if they had any, she said they did. But the neck had no more skin. Guess why?

Breathe deeply before reading: for the past almost 9 years this maid has been with me, week in and week out, she removes the skin of the chicken and throws it away because it is too fatty. My gulay. What a waste. I asked, "Didn't you even think of offering it to me so I could have chicken skin chicharon?" she shook her head. That's how thoughtful she is. Darn. What a waste. To think so many people go hungry, and there she is throwing away chicken skin. I mean, wow.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Dale, RIP

Dale, our Dalmatian born 18 April 2008 is gone. In the past 9 years he underwent two surgeries for kidney stones. Yes, Dalmatians have a propensity for developing kidney stones and Dale was more the rule than the exception.

The night before Maid C left, she said he was becoming weak. Maid C was Dale's main caregiver: feeding him, etc. I thought it was just because she was leaving and he felt it. When I brought up the possibility, she concurred. He'd not eat, she said. I asked how his urination was, because in the times he was subjected to surgery, that would be the telling sign: very little urine, blood in the urine, etc. She said it was okay. Maid C left last Tuesday.

Tuesday morning, Maid A told me that Maid C had lied. Dale had been throwing up and had hardly been eating for several days. Yesterday, I had the vet come over. Dale's bladder was near bursting point. She asked if I wanted euthanasia. I agreed. I was sick in the room so we'd communicate via her cell phone and my land line. When I saw the papers I had to sign for the request for euthanasia, it occurred to me to ask my husband to come home. I texted my son about it even if I knew he had a long test in a few hours. Dale was his pet after all, though he had somehow outgrown Dale. He asked if the procedure had to be done right away. I knew that meant he wanted to see Dale alive for the last time, at least. So I didn't sign the papers and texted the doctor about it, she understood.

I heard mass and called out to Dale on my way out. He just looked at me. When I came home from mass (feast of St. Joseph, patron of a happy death), I called out to him but by then the car was obscuring his cage from my sight. Husband said he tried to stand up at my voice and fell to his side. But he was still alive.

Son arrived and said hello at 9 pm. Husband left for the press and came home. Dale was still breathing.

This a.m., when I saw my husband sporting the downturned lips, I knew Dale was gone. yesterday, I cried a river aware of his imminent passing. When I learned he was finally gone, I smiled, aware he's now in dog heaven, experiencing no more pain. He had been moaning yesterday.

I have a lot of memories to carry me through, but do not have the guts to type them now without shedding tears. See, they are beginning to flow now at the mere thought.

Dale now lies buried in the garden. Soon, I'll ask that special plants be put atop him. I'm sure he'll make them bloom and grow.

thank you dale for the nine years when you made us smile and laugh, when you protected us from harm. Darn the tears are flowing. Luckily, I'm alone in the room. Sigh...

I guess while the tears are flowing I can afford to recall those memories. We picked dale up at the vet in Project 7 where we got him. he sat in a cage beside me at the back of the car. He'd sit on my lap days later and go under my wheelchair. For a time his cage was in the room, yes, it was because I wanted to see him all the time. But later, we decided he had to stay in the garage.

He was a wild dog, Dale was. he was forever in his cage. there was one night we allowed him to roam free and the next day, everything was in disarray. He was wild and irrepressible but virtually harmless. We had him trained to shake hands, sit, stand and so I'd sometimes command him thus. I always about bread sticks for him but lately they haven't been available. In the past, when my supply was constant, each time he'd see me in the garage, he'd bark, aware that it would mean some treats for him because then I'd ask the maid to get him two or three sticks. Then he'd quite down and eat them. Sigh, dale, I thought you'd live forever. But still, thank you for giving us almost nine years of you. You outlived so many of the cats in the house, cats who were supposed to have nine lives. dale, thank you.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

MAID C - the living proof

She is one woman who cannot live long without a man. And she's leaving again. A few years back she left because she got pregnant by an employee of a neighbor's who had this lock shop. She gave birth, came back when her son was a little over a year and after staying with me for over a year, she's leaving again.

Across the street is a rice store she frequents to buy small stuff. And she fell in love, I guess. Or in lust? Her sister, Maid A, saw pills in her possession. No, therefore, she is not pregnant. She just wants to settle down. The man said he'd marry her in her province in Cotabato. She's leaving as soon as her replacement comes.

So now she acts like she doesn't care. She takes a while to call, she does things rough- shodly.For her child's sake, I hope the man will treat her right. For her sake I hope the man treats her child right. But does she care?

When she came back she said she'd work hard for her child. Weeks back, when she showed me her child's picture and my son looked at it and asked what her child's name was, she looked like she would cry. Then now this.

She just has to have a man in her life. The father's child had left her in the lurch, refusing to marry her and taking on another girl soon after. Isn't she scared to suffer the same fate?

She trusts this new man she says, because he gives her money to keep. Money, I fear, that he may not even own. He mans a store that isn't inventoried by the owner, I heard. So who's to say?

Reminds me of a blogger's maid whom the blogger loved. She left the blogger and went back to her husband or lover and together they were caught by the arm of the law in the province, not for something she did but for something he had done. Oh well...

Friday, February 13, 2009

I feel so insulted... sabay tawa

A few minutes ago, I went to Rustan's. After the cashier totaled my purchases, I handed her, through the maid, my credit card. She gave the charge slip to the maid and asked, "Sinong pipirma?"I wonder what she really thought the answer would be. Just because I can't walk doesn't mean I can't write. She asked in such an unsmiling manner at that. Do I write her name? It's Vilma P. (family name rhymes with her star for all seasons namesake's family name, it's the same as Bernard Bonnin's siga character but with the additional letter m)

A few days ago my husband said his cousin also challenged "Can she sign this?" referring to some legal papers that required my marital consent. Apparently, it wasn't a friendly legal paper hence the haughtiness. Isn't he scared of karma? Just kidding, but really.

Stephen Hawking cannot walk, much less talk properly,but look where he is, look at what he has done. Beethoven was deaf but can one argue against the beauty, the magnificence, even, of his compositions?

Duh...

Saturday, February 7, 2009

The Tagging Game in the World Wide Web

Write your name and fill in the following with words that begin with your first name: thing you find in the bathroom, occupation, color, etc.

That was fun, if difficult. I just enjoyed myself thinking of things and was hard put to think of answers sometimes. I think that thing in the bathroom which begins with M I left blank.

BUT
List 25 things about yourself, I want to know you better.... I got this twice in facebook and was harder put to think of what to write. twenty-five things about myself, seriously? Of course I know I can come up with something but for everyone to read? I don't think so. To bare my soul to people I know is fine, but to some in her list whom I don't know? I don't think so. Especially if there's someone in her list whose relative I don't like. I certainly don't think so.

So there. I'll just ignore the request. The 2 requests. Ask me specific questions, I might answer... if we're good friends.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

SM Supermarket Cubao

A few seconds ago, got a call from this lady who spoke in tagalog. "Ma'am sa SM Supermarket pa eto." Did I win a raffle, I wondered. Then she went on "Gusto ko lang kayo i-inform open na ho kami dito sa Cubao. 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. Nakapunta na po ba kayo rito?" I said "hindi."

Sige po, she ended the conversation.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Call Center calls and other domestic concerns

I was having lunch when the phone rang. "Ma'am PLDT po. Natanggap niyo na ho ang bill niyo nung January 7?" I said "yes". The voice proceeded to ask, "Na settle niyo na ho?"

I get such calls intermittently but they manage to annoy me each time. I wonder --

do they call to ask really because they want to know if I got the bill or not or to really know if I've settled my bill? What would they do if I said no? Maybe next time I should say no, so I'll find out.

&&&&&&&&&&

This is not my lucky day. A few minutes later, "Pwedeng makausap si Ma'am _____(my name)?" I said "Ano yun?" Then the voice said "si ma'am ____ na ba eto? Kasi ma'am affiliate namin ang Citibank. Ang balance niyo ganito. Baka gusto niyo i-convert Ma'am _____ para sa March na po kayo Ma'am ______ magbayad." I asked "may interest yan?" He answered "di ba ma'am ______ ang sa Citibank ganito ang interest, Ma'am ______? etc." WHen I told him I had paid already you could hear his disappointment. It's so irksome pati the frequency by which he calls my name.

***********
Maid A comes in, holding the recipe I told Maid B to give her for cooking for dinner. Maid A says "wala na onions at cleanser at lemon." I said "o pabili ka." Then she said "Insect spray pa." I was incredulous. Only two weeks ago we bought a big can. I asked, "ubos na?" She said "meron pa pero hindi nakakapatay ng lamok." I asked "paano mo alam?" She said "marami pa ring lamok." Then I said "eh sayang naman yun." She said "eh ginagamit naman eh."

My head is spinning...

lack of full disclosure

Is that a Philippine thing? Is it in our nature to conceal? For what reasons?

When a fire or an explosion hits Makati or elsewhere, and it happens in a commercial area, the exact location isn't revealed immediately, if at all. Why? SHouldn't public interest be utmost? So people will avoid the place where there's a fire, for example.

Today this came to mind after I listened to Winnie Monsod decrying Ched and the Professional Regulatory Commission's failure to make public the list of schools that have zero passing rates in the board and bar exams. Winnie pities the parents, she said, who spend precious money to send their children to schools not knowing about the school's poor performance in the professional licensure exams. Sad.

Wonder why the topic was discussed? There's a proposal somewhere that college schooling be lengthened another year. Winnie said, No. Basic education should instead be improved. I couldn't agree more.

Yesterday, I was tutoring this grade 5 boy. Gave him a world problem where the dividend consisted of 3 digits, the divisor of 2. he didn't know how to do it. Ayan, kasi nasanay sa calculator.

Philip Pestano - Memorial by Fr. Reuter, SJ

(Doy, just in case you don't have this....)

--- On Mon, 2/2/09, Christopher Peabody wrote:

From: Christopher Peabody
Subject: Philip Pestano Memorial by Fr. James Reuter, SJ
To: "Chris Peabody"
Date: Monday, February 2, 2009, 4:42 PM

I thought you might appreciate this.
Also visit http://www.phillippestano.com/ for more information

Philip Pestano Memorial by Fr. James Reuter, SJ

Sent: Tuesday, January 20, 2009 3:41 AM

Subject: Philip Pestano Memorial by Fr. James Reuter, S.J.

Philip Pestano Memorial

Justice at 3 A.M.

by Fr. James B. Reuter, S.J.

*Note: This is the e-mail prayer brigade initiated by Fr. Reuter for Phillip.

Phillip Andrew A. Pestaño graduated from the Ateneo de Manila High School in 1989, entered the Philippine Military Academy, and became an Ensign in the Philippine Navy in 1993. He was assigned as cargo master, on a Navy ship.

He discovered that the cargo being loaded onto his vessel included logs that were cut down illegally, were carried to the ship illegally, and were destined to be sold, illegally. Then there were 50 sacks of flour, which were not flour, but shabu - worth billions. Literally, billions. And there were military weapons which were destined for sale to the Abu Sayyaf.

He felt that he could not approve this cargo. Superior officers came to him and said: "Please! Be reasonable! This is big business. It involves many important people. Approve this cargo." But Phillip could not, in conscience, sign approval.

Then his parents received two phone calls, saying: "Get your son off that ship! He is going to be killed!" When Phillip was given leave at home, his family begged him not to go back. Their efforts at persuasion continued until his last night at home, when Phillip was already in bed.

His father came to him and said: "Please, son, resign your commission. Give up your m ilitary career. Don't go back. We want you alive.. If you go back to that ship, it will be the end of you!" But Phillip said to his father: "Kawawa ang bayan!" And he went back to the ship.

The scheduled trip was very brief - from Cavite to Roxas Boulevard - it usually took only 45 minutes. But on September 27, 1995 , it took one hour and a half. When the ship arrived at Roxas Boulevard, Ensign Pestaño was dead.

The body was in his stateroom, with a pistol, and a letter saying that he was committing suicide. The family realized at once that the letter was forged. They tried desperately for justice, carrying the case right up to the Senate.

The Senatorial Investigation Committee examined all the evidence, carefully. Then they issued an official statement, saying among other things: Ensign Phillip Pestaño did not commit suicide. He was murdered. He was shot through the head, somewhere outside of his stateroom, and the body was carried to his room and placed in the bed.

The crime was committed by more than one person. In spite of these findings, by the Senate, the family could not get justice. The case is still recorded, by the Navy, as suicide. For 12 years they have been knocking at the doors of those in power, to no avail. Now they realize that they should knock on the door of HIM who said: "Knock, and it shall be opened to you. Ask and you shall receive. Seek, and you shall find."

So they are asking all of the friends of Phillip from the Ateneo, from the PMA, friends of the family - including the girl he was engaged to marry - to say this prayer:

"LORD, we know that Phillip is safe with YOU, and will be safe forever, because he gave up his life, as YOU gave up YOUR life - for justice. If it is YOUR will, please let the truth be known of his heroic courage and strength and love of country. Let justice be rendered here on earth. But if it is not YOUR will that justice be rendered here, give each of us the grace to live and die as he did - following in YOUR footsteps. And at the last judgment, LORD, when all that is hidden will be known, let Phillip be seen as he really is - a brave young man who gave his life for honesty, truth, and justice."

* * *

Phillip Pestaño died at the age of 24. He was scheduled to be married in January of 1996, four months after he was murdered.

He was a martyr. A martyr is one who dies for the faith or for a Christian virtue. Phillip died for a Christian virtue - justice. It is not likely that he will ever be canonized, but he takes his place among the Unknown Saints.

Some military men are killed in battle. They are given a hero's burial. But Phillip died for a much deeper cause - he was trying to preserve the integrity of our Armed Forces. He died out of loyalty to the Philippines, in an effort to keep the oath that he made when he graduated from the Military Academy.

Graft and corruption are the curse of this nation. But when they take root in the heart of our Armed Forces, they threaten our existence as an independent, democratic country.

The family of Phillip Pestaño is doing the right thing. They are turning to GOD. They are praying that justice will be administered here, in our country, in our day. But if this is not GOD's will, then let us at least try to preserve the ideal of integrity in every mind and heart and soul.

Let's forward this message to every freedom-loving Pinoy in our list. Thank you.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Wedding Ninang for the 3rd Time

Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wedding Ninang for the 3rd time
Yesterday my nephew and his fiancee came to formally ask my husband and myself to be godparents to his wedding. Twenty-six years ago, he was my baptismal godson. Twelve, maybe thirteen years ago, he chose my husband to be his confirmation godfather. Last week he called to ask us to be his wedding godparents. yesterday he formalized his request.

How time has flown. Soon after he was born, as soon as his mother resumed work after the designated maternity leave, he'd be brought over by his parents or picked up by my driver (yes, I had a driver then, his salary assumed by my father until a sister groused that this was unfair) so he'd not be alone in his parents' apartment. So basically, I was a surrogate mom of his then, I was newly paralyzed. In fact, when I was confined in the hospital, his then 7-months pregnant mother would take care of me, visit me a lot in all her pregnant glory. So my nephew and I, we go back a long way.

His parents got him one playpen which was put in my bedroom. Each morning, he'd be put there with some toys. And from a distance, I'd play with him, make sounds that would cause him to perk up, silly things. When I'd go out with the maid and driver when he was much older but still a day boarder in the house, we'd bring him. He'd sit on my lap. Sometimes, my knees would shake, he'd know what to do. He'd put his hand on top of my leg then he'd say "stop that." We always teased him because he'd pronounce all l's like y. So we'd say, say "Tolota" and of course he'd say "Toyota". Once we were cruising Aurora Boulevard and he looked out the window and said "gabby" when he saw Gabby Concepcion's posters in one of the theater's frontage. Because he was with us a lot, we'd have rules for going out. He liked to stick in his index finger inside his nostril and that would usually be rule number 1. "bawal mangulangot." Rule number 2 would be "bawal mag-aya umuwi" because usually, we'd get him a treat - a toy, Brown Cow, etc. and as soon as he had this in his hands, he'd say "uwi na tayo." GI Joe was his favorite and one time, December 24, we were still looking for one he particularly liked, or that is my husband then boyfriend was, braving the last-minute Christmas rush in SM Cubao. Yes, he was like a son to us, so much so that when my own son was born, six years after my nephew was and we'd bring my son to Unimart, the guard there asked, "Saan na ang panganay niyo?"

In a little over nine months, he will get married and we'll be part of it. My first son is all grown up. He who joined my real son during the kite-flying activity because my husband couldn't make it. He who now takes pictures of my son during gigs he chooses to be part of.

My favorite nephew. Shhhh... while the rest of my nephews and nieces may sense that, they do not necessarily officially know it.

**********
After posting the above I remembered other things and I think they should be written about because they are precious memories. Like he'd say "onits" for orange. And when I was pregnant, by then he was six years old, he'd still come over and we'd play catch ball. A big, red dotted ball (I could never catch a small one) we used. I was maybe 5 months pregnant and he'd toss it hard to me from the door. One time he threw it particularly hard and I said, "hina-an mo, matatamaan ang baby ko". He said smugly, "taba lang yan". Another time, we got him books for Christmas. I couldn't remember what these books were but they must have been truly special because I excitedly told him to open the gift. When he did and saw what was inside, he turned his back and disappointed apparently, he complained, "akala ko maganda." I've since learned my lesson - not to expect all children to like books. Toys are still the safest bet. But trust me, his children will not be spared. I'll buy them books. I'll be a "mean" lola and get them books. In fact, unperturbed, I got him books even after that public disavowal of anything in print. This time, the books I chose had a character whose name was similar to his. I don't think he ever read it either.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Wedding Ninang for the 4th time

Tonight I got a call from the lola of a young lady. No the lola isn't my contemporary but was my wedding ninang. Her apo asked her to call me to ask if I could be ninang at her (the apo's) wedding. I guess it's the age. My age that makes me ninang material. I really have to lose weight...

Wonder what the color motif will be. But I was assured it would be a simple wedding really. With very good music. The young lady is a music teacher and is a member of a church choir. Hmmmm... exciting.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Unexpected Treats

This a.m., though I needed all the time I could to do my work, as a housewife and mother I had no choice but to leave it for a spell to do the groceries. Which I did. At the supermarket I frequent, there was this rack of sandals that showed 40% off. I saw Maid C looking at the sandals longingly. She kept getting the pinkish red one and I asked how much it was. She said P395. Then I thought at 40% off, sige, I'll get it for her son in the province. She was elated. I kept asking her whether she was sure the color was it because her son is male. She gave in to me and looked for another color but I saw how attached she was to the red one so I let her be. As we went down the aisles, I told her to ask if the tag on the sandals was 40% off already. She went off and came back after quite a time. She was told that the sale had ended. She said it was too expensive and returned the sandals.

But I'm tenacious, remember? And though she had said that she had asked the manager and her assistant re the price, when we chanced upon the manager, I asked if the sandals were on sale. He said he'd check after verifying that I was interested. He took a while. I didn't mind the wait because there were purchases to be made. When we next saw him he said "sige ma'am, bibigay ko na sa sale price." I will not moralize or comment on the matter. But there was one happy mother there, I'm sure. I hope the lola will take a picture of the son so the mother will be happier.

While at the grocery, saw a former maid of mine with her unsmiling daughter who just had her tooth pulled. I saw her holding mushrooms and then some. I asked what she was going to cook. See aside from tenacious I'm also nosy. She said "spaghetti." O-ha she has more sophisticated ingredients in her spaghetti than I do. I put mushrooms in mine only if there's an open can in the fridge. But there she was buying mushrooms for spaghetti. Her husband works in a hardware shop. Caught her checking out her stuff and asked how much. I gave her money.

Wait. Lest you think I'm recounting the above to show off, to tell the world how generous I am, you're wrong. Through the recounting I'd like to tell you how God blesses us a hundredfold.

At around 2 p.m., while I was working in the sala because I was feeling antsy in the bedroom (bed is not directly hit by the cold air from the aircon), the doorbell rang. When the maid came in she had a Nike plastic bag. I thought it was from my most generous sister but no, it was from a friend. NDP, daughter of NVD. What was in the plastic bag? CHicken galantina with gravy. A quarter of a whole chicken. No occasion. Just like that. I was flabbergasted. When I texted her, she said that she had given the same amount to her mom, the renowned NVD.

Tonight, husband asked my son to join him at the wake of a fellow teacher who had been my son's swimming instructor one summer. At first I said I'd join them because I knew that teacher too. Then I realized I hadn't blown-dry my hair when it was wet and thought it would look a mess. Plus I was working. So I said I wouldn't join them after all.

I didn't incur God's wrath for that decision. WHen they came back, they had for me Seattle's Best javakula brownies. Plus the info that the wake was on the second floor of a building in UP.

God works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.

**********

Eek, as I reread the post above, I grimaced. How utterly stupid. "because her son was male." what a duh thing to write. sorry, sorry, sorry. Blush.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

MAIDS A AND B

hay. Of course I'm going to emote. Earlier, I asked Maid B to clean my table as I tried to pray my novena. As she cleaned she was annotating. Really, she was. I contemplated whether I should stop praying my novenas or to proceed. was God testing my patience? I thought he might be and prayed for enlightenment. With great effort I finished.

Then Maid B proceeded to dusting stuff elsewhere in the room. bog, I heard. She was no longer annotating. This time one religious item or some thingy was falling to the floor. I said "Nabuka?" She said "wala a, ga limpio pa ko di" she hurriedly added as she continued dusting while ignoring the fallen thing. Later she showed it to me: a tiny image of the Sacred Heart. Then bog, went another item. I asked "nabuka?" Might as well have taped my questions and pressed replay, no? She said no. Then she promptly showed me pink piggy, a small magnetic thing for the ref. Sigh. She finished doing those and went to another area. Bog. Hay, I was inured. Hopefully nothing broke.

*********

After praying my novenas, I read the papers. I was enjoying myself but felt guilty because I had to work. So I began working. Son arrived from school unexpectedly. Which meant no food was ready for him. If you follow this blog, you'll know that Maid A who is the cook works ever so slowly. So I asked the son what he wanted. ken Afford's Sisig, or maybe Fish fillet. Then he remembered "pa xerox nito. 2 pages 30 copies each." Maid A said, "60 pages ni." Hayy. I said "30 each." She said "te 60 tanan". Why couldn't she just stick to the instruction 30 each? The word 60's entering the picture might lead to confusion. Son said "ako na nga". But I prevailed on him to let her do it. Kainis. I told her to call me from the resto because son gave additional instructions for the fish fillet: tartar sauce. She has been gone so many minutes, no phone call yet. Sigh. She can be so stubborn. Sigh.

********
Update on Maid A: The xerox copies weren't stapled - she forgot she said. The fish fillet had no tartar sauce. SHe didin't call because she said they had no phone at Ken Afford. Duh. So how do they deliver? SOmetimes, I think she makes a career out of being difficult, irritating, annoying, etc. the works.

Son began stapling the xeroxed sheets two per. Then he decided to ask her to help. Guess where she stapled them? No Virginia, not on the side, at the center. My gulay...

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Feeling Sick and a Thoughtful Son

Saturday night, despite feeling really sick (I drank Decolgen and Kremil S or something for a queasy stomach before leaving the house), husband, son and I proceeded to Power Plant for dinner with college friends. Then hied off to one of the barkada's condo. I brought this pashmina with me because I was feeling cold. Luckily my friend noticed I didn't look well and kept saying we should go. Luckily too she packed some goodies for us in a plastic bag because I wanted the plastic bag badly. Yes, the plastic bag. I knew I was going to be sick in the car and I was. Right along the road under Guadalupe bridge, is that JP Rizal? Shortly after the Rockwell condo. I felt better afterwards but by Sunday I was in no mood to get up. Son left for Megamall for a project and prior to coming home he texted and said he'd be driving through McDO. Did I want anything? I said Yes, cheeseburger and fries. He brought home an order go big time, ergo large fries and large drink. But he warned me that the drink was diet COke because I told him I'd share the order with his dad. I ate a quarter of the cheeseburger and a few fries. Drink? Wilkins from the dispenser.