what i have to say

Maid A, please pray for her

2009-06-21T08:42:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

Please pray things turn out all right for her.

Thank you.

Maid A aka tarya queen

2009-05-23T21:37:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-05-19T09:16:00.000-07:00

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

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

Wedding Ninang 3

2009-05-08T05:43:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Visita Iglesia ala Driving Miss Daisy

2009-04-10T18:23:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally we hit Libis and home.

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

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

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

2009-04-04T04:36:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A full day

2009-03-31T03:10:00.000-07:00

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...

Hodgepodge

2009-03-27T08:49:00.000-07:00

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:

Benjamin

2009-03-24T16:23:00.000-07:00

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.

Dale, RIP

2009-03-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

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.

MAID C - the living proof

2009-02-17T16:05:00.000-08:00

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...

I feel so insulted... sabay tawa

2009-02-13T19:20:00.000-08:00

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...

The Tagging Game in the World Wide Web

2009-02-07T17:17:00.000-08:00

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.

SM Supermarket Cubao

2009-02-04T02:45:00.000-08:00

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.

Call Center calls and other domestic concerns

2009-02-02T22:52:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-02T19:56:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-02T16:20:00.001-08:00

(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.

Wedding Ninang for the 3rd Time

2009-01-28T08:47:00.000-08:00

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.

Wedding Ninang for the 4th time

2009-01-27T05:25:00.001-08:00

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.

Unexpected Treats

2009-01-20T06:01:00.000-08:00

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.

MAIDS A AND B

2009-01-07T18:58:00.000-08:00

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...

Feeling Sick and a Thoughtful Son

2009-01-06T20:46:00.000-08:00

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.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

2008-10-15T14:56:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not talking about Wall Street, not at all because the fall took place at around 2:30 or 3:00 this morning. Yes, I fell not off a wall, but off the bed.

Last night, after I bathed at around 6:30, I felt my eyes so itchy that I decided to take a Benadryl antihistamine capsule. I had been postponing doing so the past days because of work (see post in derdo.wordpress.com "I was fired"). I couldn't afford to sleep then. But with that work gone kaput and just one pending, no rush pa, I thought it was about time I should take medicine for my allergy (watery eyes, sniffles etc.). When my son arrived at around 9, he looked surprised that I was asleep. How did I know that? I woke up, apparently looked just awakened by his noise. Then after some light chitchat, I dozed off again. The maid even had to come in without being called to change me. I was so zonked out. I asked her to turn me so I could sleep comfortably, she turned me in the wrong direction. When I looked, I saw husband sleeping soundly so instead of asking him to correct my position, I asked my son. Then I dozed off again. I can't remember now if I asked husband to fix my position.

Then suddenly I felt my arm hitting something, ouch. I opened my eyes and saw I was on the floor. I knew I had hit the table. I heard a few things fall. I heard my glass of water fall and the coaster. I shouted for husband but he was no longer in bed. Suddenly the door opened and there he was rushing in. I said "I fell." Ouch.

Before he moved me he looked me over, saw some bruises, a scratch, a dislodged skin (small only on my elbow) etc. He woke up my son and with great difficulty they lifted me back to the bed. (The floor is so low, they are so tall) He asked me to raise my arm, no problem there, but I felt hapdi in one area of my upper arm and saw 4 open pinhole-sized perforations (I'm sure there's a better term for them). Otherwise, I'm okay. See, I'm typing. Arm feels a bit sore but husband said, that's to be expected. He said I might want to ice the soreness away, I said sacrifice na lang. It's not that bad. Son stayed awake, I guess a bit worried, for two hours, to keep me company. He's snoring away now. Meantime, athlete mom (husband said to imagine how athletes fall after a tough game) is blogging away.

Oh the things aside from the glass of water and Arcoroc coaster (which broke but whose shards didn't hit me) that fell were made of plastic. But there was one bottle of perfume, really old (paco rabanne calandre) made of glass that didn't break. Conclusion: perfumes are expensive because of the glass they come in. Shatter proof. Ouch, my back hurts.

Hairspray, the Musical

2008-10-08T09:01:00.001-07:00

The musical Hairspray will be shown at the Star Theater (CCP Complex) this November. For tickets to the opening night on November 14 and for the November 23 show, please refer to the following letter from Stewart Ong:

Dear Friends,

We are selling 2 shows of the Broadway and movie-hit musical HAIRSPRAY on November 14 (Friday) and November 23 (Sunday). It's a great show, winning 8 Tony Awards in Broadway. It's also being produced and directed by the same group as Rent, Avenue Q and Cinderella. Venue will be at the Star Theater, CCP Complex, 8pm.

For ticket and show inquiries, you may email me (song1@jnjph.jnj.com) or SMS me directly (+63917-8735412)
Best to confirm early in order to reserve good seats!

Thanks!

Stewart also shared Hairspray's casting as follows:

HAIRSPRAY CASTING

TRACY Madel Ching
EDNA Michael de Mesa
LINK Tim Espinosa
SEAWEED Nyoy Volante
PENNY Monica Reynoso
AMBER Christine Allado
VELMA Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo
MOTORMOUTH Dulce
WILBUR Leo Rialp
CORNY COLLINS Noel Rayos
FEMALE AUTHORITY Ana Bitong
MALE AUTHORITY Gabe Mercado
INEZ Precious Lee Viloria

WHITE ENSEMBLE

ENSEMBLE #1 Mark Tayag
ENSEMBLE #2 Anthony Ong
ENSEMBLE #3 Reb Atadero
ENSEMBLE #4 Red Concepcion
ENSEMBLE #5 Francesca Borromeo
ENSEMBLE #6 Crienna House
ENSEMBLE #7 Margarita Laurel
ENSEMBLE #8 Bea Garcia

BLACK ENSEMBLE

ENSEMBLE #9/DYNAMITE Emerita Alcid
ENSEMBLE#10/DYNAMITE Erika Cedilla
ENSEMBLE#11/DYNAMITE Pam Gumabon
ENSEMBLE#12 Michael Melvin Odoemene
ENSEMBLE#13 Gerlin Francisco
ENSEMBLE#14 Jordan Aguilar

Ticket Prices:

P1,200 (Rows A to I)

P1,000 (Row J to S)

P800 (Rows T to X)

P600 (Rows Y to Z)

I can safely assure those interested that Stewart delivers in the literal and figurative sense. We obtained tickets to West Side Story and were very much satisfied by his and his friend's "brand of service".

Remembering Glorietta

2008-10-08T00:09:00.000-07:00

Following is a letter my cousin emailed to me this morning. It was written by her daughter who, along with my cousin was in Glorietta during the blast.

Dear Family and Friends,

It has almost been a year since the explosion in Glorietta 2. I know I promised some of you that I would write, would tell you all the details about what happened. Well, I didn't realize it would be so hard to put everything down on paper. I have hesitated doing this since it brings back old feelings, things I would rather not remember, most of which I do not remember in fact.

So, finally, in the last two weeks, I was able to put together this 5 page letter to Rafa and Mia, for their scrapbook. So that when they grow up, they will still remember that they are so blessed in spite of this terrible thing that happened to us. I wanted to share this letter with you, my good friends, so that you will know why this experience has forever changed me, and my relationship with God. I thank you again for what you did for me last year. Each of you in some way, was there for me this past year, or when this happened. I hope you can also feel the love we have felt from this experience. God bless you all.

Love,
Tiffany

REMEMBER

My Dearest Children,

Last year we almost died. On October 19, 2007, at 130pm, we were in Glorietta
2 in Makati, Philippines, when there was an explosion. The explosion destroyed
an entire building. There were 11 people reported to have died in the
explosion, 118 people injured, and many more missing. We were part of the 118
people. Ironically, I do not remember most of what happened that day.

I am sharing this miracle with you, based on what was told to me by Abuela, Ate
May, you Rafa and Mia, and some of my own flashes of memory. I want you to
remember this story of love, miracles, and life. I want you to know that God
really exists, and that He protects us from danger.

My own memory starts on Saturday, October 20th, the day after the explosion. I
woke up with a start after a long nightmare of noise, blood, pain and a feeling
that I was desperately looking for my children. My first feeling was relief to
have awoken from such an awful dream. Then I looked around. My surroundings
were unfamiliar. I could see your Mama Telly sleeping on a sofa across the
room. My body ached, then I realized Mia and I were sleeping together on a tiny
bed. Then I saw her IV drip. I gasped. I knew my terrible dream that night
had been real. I saw Rafa asleep on another hospital bed next to ours, and your
papa was watching over him. I guessed he had not slept at all that night.

In the quiet of the sunrise, your papa and I talked. He told me he had come
back to Makati from Bangkok the evening before, that he had taken the first
flight out when he heard what happened, so he could be with us in the hospital.
Then he showed me the headlines of the morning paper. And I saw it. It was a
picture of the exact place where we had been standing. The place where we had
been reading together was devastated. Nothing was left, only the grey rubble
from 3 collapsed floors and the roof which had fallen on us. Everything in
Glorietta 2 had been destroyed. I turned to look at Mia, her forehead covered
with bandages, and at Rafa, his back full of wounds. I suddenly remembered the
sound of the explosion in my head, and it hurt. I asked Papa Steve to help me
go to the bathroom to look at myself.

For a moment, I did not recognize my own reflection in the mirror. My entire
left side was covered with bruises. My hair was disheveled, full of dirt and
blood, and debris from the blast. I lifted up my shirt and saw that I had cuts
all over my back, and a big gash in my left side. I looked at my legs, covered
with dried blood and bruises. I was limping. My left foot hurt. I looked like
a character in a horror movie, after she had been killed. I almost laughed at
the thought. Then, I went back outside to check on you, my children.

Many things happened after this moment, but I want to tell you about the
explosion itself. When we were back in Ascott, before moving to Bangkok, I
talked with you both. You shared with me the most fascinating things about that
day.

After lunch with Auntie Jeanne, and after getting Dipping Dots, we bought
Mia’s ballet slippers. She wanted to wear them, so we put her other shoes in
the stroller with our baby bag. I went to a new scrapbooking store on the 2nd
floor, while you, Abuela, Ate May, and Ate Malou went to the book fair on the
ground floor. I joined you at 125pm. Your Abuela and I wanted to leave because
we both had to go to the bathroom, but Rafa asked if he could finish his book.
I stood with Rafa at the children’s section and Abuela read a pocketbook at
our table. Ate May was on the floor reading to Mia a favorite story “Beauty
and the Beast” while Ate Malou sat under one of the columns watching the
stroller. Then, I heard the sound. BOOM.

After that, everything was quiet. I remember the first person I called was
Abuela. I could not see her, so I called out desperately, “MOM.”

She answered back, then I knew we were all alive. She says that she was still
standing. She had not realized what had happened but suddenly she could not see a thing. It looked like there was a wall in front of her. Then, she was
overcome with fear, fear for her apos (the Filipino word for grandchildren).
She called out to Jesus, “Lord, where are the apos?”

Then, she heard me call her.

Rafa, the moment he heard the blast, felt pain in his back, and quickly ducked
under the book table. What a boy scout. He covered his face but peered out and
in a flash he saw the glass blown out of store windows, and big ‘rocks’ fall
from the ceiling. Actually, it was the ceiling that fell. I picked him up and
held his hand as we walked out of Glorietta II, but somehow he had lost his new
crocs. This I remember, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said,
“Mommy, I’m sorry, I lost my shoes.”

MayFlor, who is like a second mother to the children, followed her instinct
when she felt the blast. She threw her body on top of Mia’s as they fell
over. She had the worst injuries, sustaining a broken right arm, right leg, and
gashes in the head. All of that, to keep my own daughter alive.

Poor Malou was literally thrown forward by the force of the blast. She fell
onto broken glass which cut her face and hands. She was bleeding so much, and had so much debris in her eyes that she could not open them. She said she
thought she was dead until she heard my voice calling out her name. “Malou,
where are you? Are you ok?”

The six of us walked out of Glorietta in pairs. Rafa and I went first,
followed by May carrying Mia. Abuela held Malou who could not see where she was going. We left behind our baby bag and stoller, and we walked slowly across the activity center to Glorietta 4. There was not a sound in the entire mall, except my voice calling out everyone’s name over and over, asking each person if he or she was ok. I remember walking into the bright sunlight of the
activity center. I felt a piercing pain in my left eye, blood dripping down my
face. I took out my bloody contact lens and put it in my purse. Rafa was
looking down at his own hand held in mine. It was soaked in blood. He looked
up at me with apprehension. He said, “Mama, my hand is covered in blood.”
“Don’t worry Rafa,” I said, “All the blood is mine. and it doesn’t hurt.”

Suddenly, there were people who work in Ayala coming toward us. A man ran to us and picked up Rafa to carry him. I panicked. I shouted for him not to take my
son away. I yelled that we all had to stay together. I begged him not to take
my son from me. He promised to keep us all together, but that we had to get to
the hospital. He said I was bleeding and that we had to get into a taxi and go
to the hospital. I started to protest, but noticed May was in a lot of pain.
When we got to Glorietta 4, we heard a stampede coming so we quickly got into
two cabs, May, Mia and I were in the back seat. The stranger held Rafa in the
front seat. Abuela and Malou got into the other taxi. Then, two other victims
were put into our taxi. They were bleeding heavily and the woman next to me was almost unconscious. May was now seething with pain. After that, I have no
memory of the rest of the afternoon.

At the hospital, Malou and May were put on gurneys. I gave the nurse in the ER
of Makati Medical our details and said that Dr Butler, the kids’ pediatrician,
should be next door in her clinic. They called her and she quickly came to see
us. Rafa was treated for blast wounds on his back. They cut his clothes off
and bandaged his cuts. The doctors could not treat Mia’s wounds because she
kept crying and throwing up when they would touch her. The nurses cut her
clothes off and inserted an IV so she could be sedated. My father and brother
arrived. When your Papa Ine walked into the ER, he saw Rafa, naked on a
hospital bed with bandages on his back. Mia was sitting on my lap in a chair
next to Rafa, both our faces soaked in blood. He was so taken aback, he
collapsed right in front of us, and all the nurses rushed to revive him. I was
like a broken record, asking everyone who talked to me where my children were,
where my mother and nannies were. And if everyone was ok. I refused to be sedated, even when I got the stitches in my head. The doctors could not believe I was still conscious with two big gashes in my head. “Only God knows how she stayed awake,” they said.

Abuela was so busy calling people to tell them where we were, arranging for
clothes to be brought to us, and what rooms we would be staying in at the
hospital, that only later did she notice the pain in her head. The doctor was
shocked to see she also had a gash, and she was quickly stitched up, just like
Malou, May, and myself.

Mia, however, would not speak for the rest of the day. When I asked her days
after the explosion if she remembered what happened, she nodded, and told me the most incredible thing I have ever heard.

She had been asking me about a “white thing” she saw in the blast. I told
her it was probably the wall of the building falling down. She seemed
unsatisfied with my answer, and kept asking me what was the white thing she saw in the “booming” as she called the explosion. Mia was only 2 years old, the
youngest survivor of the explosion.

Finally after 3 days of asking, I realized she must have seen something that
bothered her, so I asked her, “Mia, what WAS the white thing you saw in the
booming?”

She answered me, “You know, Mama.”

I asked her if the white thing was A THING. She shook her head no. I asked
her if the white thing was a person. She nodded.

I asked her if she knew the person she saw. She said yes. She said he was a
boy. A big boy.

I asked, “Like your Kuya (older brother)?”

“No Mama. Bigger.”

“Like your Papa?”

“No Mama. Bigger.”

I asked, “Like Uncle RJ?”

“No Mama. He was..(and she looked up to the sky and lifted her hand above
her head) HE WAS BIG.”

She then told me that when the booming happened, the white boy appeared,
standing on her book. She was not afraid of him. He was as tall as the
building, all white, white hair, white face, white clothes. He spoke to her.
He said to her, “I love you much too” and kissed her face, where she was
bleeding. She said he proceeded to kiss Ate May, Ate Malou, Kuya Rafa, Abuela, then kissed Mama on the head so she could wake up. Then, she said Mama got up, and we walked out of Glorietta.

I did not say anything. I just listened, and over the next several days, Mia,
you gave me more details about your friend at the blast. Your aunties said you
had seen an angel. It was starting to hit me hard. The six of us could have
died. We had actually lived through an explosion. While others had lost their
lives, or were severely injured, all six of us had been saved, perhaps by an
angel . It was too much for me to take in. My mother, my children, my two
trusted helpers. We had all been saved.

In my prayers, I have asked Jesus why this terrible thing happened. Why did
innocent people have to suffer? His answer to me was gentle but firm.
“Good people get hurt because there is still evil in this world. But do not
despair. Know that I am with you always, I shield you from harm. I keep you
safe in My arms. You are spared so you can go out into the world and tell
others how much I love you, how much I want you to be with Me in heaven.”

I have been asked why I am not bitter. Why do I not sue Ayala, or hate the
people involved with the explosion? Well, it is very hard to be bitter when I
feel so blessed. When this happened, it was tragic, awful, horrendous, but it
was also a miracle. In the moments, days, months that passed, I felt the love
of so many people - family, friends, even strangers who rushed to our side, who
took care of us. I remember clearly the next day, after Mia’s operation, when
she and Rafa were napping, how my mother-in-law quietly brushed out my hair, the hair that had been chopped for my stitches. She held me gently, taking out the debris, dirt, and dried blood still on my head. I remember how my brother
stayed by my side while I waited for Mia to come out of the OR. How I cried on
his shoulder when I was too weary to be brave. I remember how my father prayed
every night over the children, how my mother quietly listened every time I
needed to talk to someone about that day. I remember how my husband held us close to him each night, thanking God for giving us another day together. I remember friends who called, texted, and sent gifts to the children and the yayas (nannies) in the hospital. I may not remember what happened at the explosion, but I remember all these things. These are the things that count. These are the things I want to share with you. So that you will remember. You are loved.

Love,
Mama

BLind Items 2 (the first is in my other blog)

2008-10-06T18:21:00.000-07:00

Blind Items 2 will also coincidentally consist of two guess who's. This time I'm sure my cousin will guess the identities readily but I'll try to give as few clues as possible, although on second thought, I doubt that I can provide any descriptions that won't be dead giveaways anyway.

B I (1): He was alone, smiling all the time. He's not too tall, he was in government and has a famous/notorious family name, depending on which clan member you're thinking of. He was eating in PL by his lonesome. Guess who, cousin? I'm sure C will guess the family name at least? She has been in our province often enough except that she doesn't deal with the clan, as far as I know. But she's magaling so likely, she'll get the identity.

B I (2): She came with two men, one of them a foreigner who smiled at me. Her husband, I think, The other older looking gentleman told her to move her high tech wheelchair so another wheelchair (okay, mine) could pass and leave the premises. She's mestiza and is a descendant of a former Philippine president. Very good looking.

Saw both in Pepper Lunch.

How God Works in Mysterious Ways, His Wonders to Perform

2008-10-06T08:15:00.000-07:00

The title of this post is something I learned in high school, possibly from literature class. That it has stayed fresh in my mind attests to the fact that time and again I've experienced His hand in my life, so how could I possibly forget the quote that encapsulates such?

This pm, at around 4:30, I was surprised that my tutee who was dismissed at 2:20 hadn't yet arrived. I texted his mother, not so much because of the income aspect but because I was concerned. Today being my son's birthday, I wanted to have time to prepare for mass at 6:30. Normally this tutee of mine takes a lot of time answering the reviewers I prepare because he malingers - paawa effect. He's the youngest in the family and is in Grade 5.

His mom promptly answered my text telling her that I had to leave by six (actually leave for my room so I could prepare for mass) with the info that her son was at LEAP and would go to me afterwards. Then she said if it was all right, she would just pay me for the reviewer I prepared and the set of answers to the reviewer. I balked. My first reaction was "the nerve." (the memory of the father of Narding in Sinta's saying that still fresh in my mind, having watched Sinta only last Friday). She didn't exactly say how much she was willing to pay but hey, I slaved on that reviewer for several hours and just like that she'd buy them? I wanted to say "they aren't for sale, lady." So I made the excuse that I didn't think he'd need it (let me explain, Leap is a tutorial session in school conducted by a teacher of the school who's not the boy's teacher). Moreover, I said, he might be too tired and might just end up confused. She texted another time and said she really wanted to get it and when I texted back saying I didn't think so, she apologized. I was peeved to say the least but that development also prompted me to call Power Plant. You see, my birthday boy son, when I asked him last night where he wanted to have his birthday dinner (with just him, his papa and me) he said Pepper Lunch at Power Plant. So on the off-chance, I called PP to ask if there would be mass tonight. Actually I was expecting a NO because months back, when I called to ask, I was told they only had masses on weekends and first Fridays. But I called and the lady said YES, at 5:30.

By that time it must have been 4:40 and it generally takes an hour to get to Makati. Plus my husband wasn't home yet and my son hadn't bathed. I promptly texted my husband and told him that just in case he was tutoring to please dismiss the boy so we could catch the mass at 5:30 in Makati. He said he had actually canceled his tutoring session and was about to go home. With a smile on my face I went to the room where my son was busy studying (?) for Wednesday's exam. More quickly than usual, he stood up and went to his room to get his clothes. But he lingered as usual and I was getting anxious. I wanted to avoid chastising him on his birthday. Before my patience ran out, he began to take a bath. I constantly said "mass at 5:30 in Power Plant, not in OLPP(our parish)". Meanwhile, husband arrived. After a while, son finished dressing. At around 5 we were off to Makati.

I told myself if God wills it, we will be at PP maybe just a little late. I was anxious though that I might have been given the wrong info and there might be no mass. Then I assured myself, at least we could visit the chapel.

There was no traffic going to Makati even if this was supposed to have been rush hour. By 5:30 we were at the parking lot (P1) of PP. When we got to the chapel, the priest was reading the Gospel. Not bad. There were others who arrived later than we did and I'm sure they didn't come all the way from Quezon City.

The priest was okay, his homily was okay and not too long. After mass, I told my son to call his cousin who works nearby to join us for dinner at Pepper Lunch. He did and it was fun having my nephew around, he who was mistaken to have been my first-born because when he was an infant, his parents would leave him with me every morning before they went off to work, so when I'd go to Unimart, for example, he'd be sitting on my lap. Years later, when I was with my son, the security guard in Unimart asked me "saan na ang panganay niyo?" I was taken aback and realized whom he thought my eldest son was. Anyway, back to tonight.

After Pepper Lunch, we bought some bread at Bread Talk. (Their loaf breads are really tasty and soft.) Afterwards we went to Pazzo for some ice cream and there I reminded my nephew of how, when I was pregnant, I'd play catch ball with him from my bed while he stood by the door. Occasionally, I would tell him then not to throw too hard lest he hurt the baby in my tummy. And I'll never forget what he said, "Taba lang yan." As I told him, he tried to recall how old he was then and said "six or seven." My son's now 19. He's 26 and an assistant manager in a multinational company.

How time has flown and somehow, my nephew will always occupy a special place in my family of a husband and a son. Somehow he is like a son to me too and I think he knows it.

What a nice evening we had. Like they say before Christ's resurrection he went through Good Friday. In a sense my disappointment with my tutee's mom was like Good Friday and what followed was certainly a resurrection of sorts. yes, I know the comparison is really so many worlds apart in terms of impact (micro as opposed to macro), but you get the drift.

Won't edit this na. Anyway, all those who read my posts in this blog are people I care about, and that includes you. So any errors are forgiven, right?

It is my son's birthday so should this post have been about him? If I were the perfect mother, it would have been, but I'm not. He finds sentimental stuff cheesy besides, and if I dedicated a post to him and he learned about it, how aghast he'd be. Besides he knows how I feel and must be tired hearing me say how I love him very "mucho"! It has become a fill in the blanks thing, dating back from when he was a baby and sometimes he'd say "macho". hayyy.

IT's been a while

2008-09-30T19:00:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted anything in this blog for a long time, maybe because the things that I thought were worth writing were for general consumption. But three touching things happened to me recently, and these I'd like to share.

(1) Last Monday, my husband and I were at Power Plant. I bought him a shirt that was 70% off in Quicksilver. When the young lady made me sign the charge slip, she gave me a book on which to lay the slip so I could sign for comfortably. In supermarkets, I'd sometimes be given a flap of a carton, occasionally a log-in book, a clip board. This was the first time I was given a book. So I said before giving it back to her, "tingnan ko muna ha." It was backside up. And she said, "sige po." Then I saw the book's title: Like the Flowing RIver by Paulo Coelho. And I can't remember now how I reacted. Maybe I said "wow" or maybe I asked "maganda ba?" What happened next is what I cannot forget. She said "Sa yo na lang po." I was taken aback to say the least. I said "no, nakakahiya." She assured, "Sige na po, tapos ko na po yan." But I was firm I wouldn't take it. So she said "Sige po, hiramin niyo na lang." And even if I didn't really feel I should because she was a complete stranger as I was to her so I didn't feel I deserved it, I acceded. I haven't yet begun reading it but will do. And I'll return it to her.

(2) I have been proofreading/editing books for a publishing house. Textbooks. And there's this messenger I haven't yet met. But sometimes he comes almost daily or several times a week. So once I decided to ask the maid to give him a box of cookies. He doesn't have his own vehicle so he commutes each time. When the maid gave the cookies to him, he was perplexed. He asked the maid "bakit niya ako binibigyan nito? Siguro naaawa siya sa akin?" I don't think "awa" is the operative word here, maybe gratitude should be it. He then asked the maid if I like music, the maid said yes. He said he'd give me a CD. The next day, he came back with a book for me, a St. Paul's publication about Gospels. When I texted to thank him, he said he was a born again Christian. He even wrote a dedication on the book.

(3) Last night at the bonfire in Ateneo, we went around Bellarmine Field in front of the Church of Gesu in search of food. The lines were long, the ground was muddy after a thunderstorm. Despite the vast expanse of Bel Field, we ended up with nothing. So I told husband that maybe, we should have food delivered from Katipunan. Then again I was wondering if they would considering the sheer volume of people around. Just so many people that getting a signal was near nil even. It was like CHristmas, New Year, Valentine's Day in that sense. Just the same, I called the maid on her cellphone and asked her to buy some sandwiches for us at KFC. Because this was Maid C and she moves ever so like a lady, read slow, it must have been an hour before she arrived. In the meantime, we bumped into the wife of a college barkada and she asked if we had eaten. I said no. She said "sandali, may chicken lollipop pa ata kami." She left and lo and behold, a styropor container with 3 chicken lollipops. After making sure she could spare it, my husband and I ate the 3: 2 for him, one for me. Then an employee of the Personnel Office saw my husband and gave him a can of Infinity (ginebra San Miguel produced." Before he could open that, the maid came with our sandwiches and drinks.

Apparently this piece should have been entitled "Kind Souls in Our Midst" or "Angels on Earth." I don't know, but these incidents were very touching because they were such kind gestures and rather unexpected.

My Itinerary Tomorrow

2008-08-31T23:34:00.000-07:00

My itinerary tomorrow is toxic in more ways than one. Get this:

NSO East Avenue to get my birth and marriage certificates just in case when I go to the NBI and I'm asked for original and current copies I have them to show. Though this pm, just a few minutes ago, I called NBI Carriedo to ask about requirements and was told 2 valid IDs. When I said I needed a clearance for change of name, the person who answered added, "Birth certificate." I asked, "pwede xerox?" He said no. I asked "pwede hindi current?" He said, "Punta ka na lang dito." I insisted, "Gusto ko malaman ang tama kasi ayokong pabalik balik at naka wheelchair ako." He said, "Sandali lang." I heard him ask about requirements and then he got back to me to say "pwede xerox kahit hindi bago." Given how arbitrary the answers were, I better come prepared.

Actually this morning, I had the maid get me my birth and marriage certificates in the hope that she could get them this pm, but no, it has to be tomorrow. The line was very long, she said, snake-like in fact. So tomorrow, NSO, first stop.

Next stop: NBI Carriedo. Where on earth is that? Behind SM Carriedo and Isetann, I was told. Okay. So do I know where it is with that info? No. But hopefully, the wheelmo driver does. I hope it's Arnel because he's better at directions than the other driver.
If I am lucky, per the NBI website, I should get my clearance in 30 minutes. Now if I have a namesake who has an NBI record, then I'll have to go back after a week. Oh boy. A niece's wedding had to be postponed because her groom to be has a namesake who has committed some crime.

After NBI Carriedo, no matter how long I take there and no matter how tired I am, it's back to MAnila City Hall to submit, nay, show the original copies of my transcript of record (thank God for Kathleen of the College Registrar in Ateneo who hurried things up - I requested the transcript THursday, it's ready today. At AIM I asked for a certificate of employment Wednesday, it was ready by Friday. The private sector rocks (wow, what young lingo. Springs from my reading the blogs of the young, hahaha.) Hopefully, the people in Manila City Hall will not find yet another reason for me to go back to their office to submit some other requirement. They're really taxing my patience. My husband, when I recounted my ordeal, said "That's why the country is not moving forward." If getting corrections on a birth certificate is as tedious as this, how much more is it for the apparently rich businessmen to get a business permit or whatever papers they need? NO wonder the prices they charge for their goods are so high-- they must have spent a considerable amount of time, energy, and presumably resources before they could start operating.

After Manila City Hall, if I still have the energy and guts, I'll go to SSS for my SSS ID card. This will mean going back to East Avenue where the SSS head office is. It is the only SSS office whose machines are working. Galing no? Third world. After SSS, granted that I still have some energy left, I'll go to the QC Hall also in East Avenue to get my police clearance. A friend who did said she got it in half an hour. Then if I still have some energy left, I'll go to PLDT nearby to get my phone directories. No connection to getting a birth certificate tomorrow, no? But that's listed in my itinerary because of its proximity to my other destinations. In the past, PLDT issued notices that directories were ready for pick-up. My bill the past two years no longer came with info to the effect. My sister is lucky. She lives in a subdivision so their directories are delivered.

I hope tomorrow will be my lucky day and I can finish everything. Aiming for the stars? I can always dream, can't I?

ADDENDUM: For the continuation of this saga, check out my post "I'm pooped" on this site

Disturbing

2008-08-31T16:46:00.000-07:00

A few minutes ago, my husband called. A fourth year college student took his life yesterday after a failed relationship. His ex-girlfriend chose his friend over him.

Did he have to take his life?

It always boggles the mind when one hears of a suicide over a failed relationship. It makes one wonder how a healthy being can choose to end his life while a cancer patient exhausts all means to stay alive.

When we were in college, the advice of a Spanish teacher to a female student whose eyes were puffed from crying over a boyfriend -- for what reason, I don't know-- was: No man is worth all those tears.

Now I'd like to add, even if I am a woman, that: No woman is worth all those tears. Or is anyone?

Desperation, I guess, is what drives a person to suicide. Desperation and the absence of a support group or even one person one can open one's heart to. Or a fragile relationship with God.

Sad. And yes, disturbing.

I feel so stressed

2008-08-24T18:31:00.000-07:00

Just this morning, my tutee who's coming for tutoring this pm sent pointers for his Math exam. He also sent his Filipino textbook and texted the coverage for the latter exam tomorrow to be from page 1 to page 145. I wanted to scream. In the first place, I am not an expert in Filipino. In the second place, the book is so wordy that one has to plough through all those pages to get the main points. No idea how much, it being the first time I see the book.

I texted the mom to say I didn't think we could cover everything and she said "OH no. Please try."

Hello. Her son joined the PHilippine team for some sport so he missed classes for two weeks. Friday the son came for tutoring but was constantly glancing at the clock. I asked, "You have to go somewhere?" He answered: "Practice at 3:30." He arrived for tutoring at around 2:10. I asked if he'd come Saturday and he said he'd try but they had a game in Laguna. He asked if he could come Sunday, I said to text. He didn't. So it's this pm he is coming. Why not this morning? He has a game.

I am no miracle worker, am not even a magician/prestidigitator/charlatan. So I don't know...

********
Another source of stress: my Manila City Hall trip tomorrow to get my son's birth certificate corrected. I'm truly apprehensive. A friend who's been there, done that intimated that when she was interviewed for a correction on her birth certificate, the interviewer kept asking "KUmpleto na ba yan?" On hindsight, she said, the lady might have been hinting at lagay. But my friend said she was clueless, so she didn't budge.

What do I do if and when I'm confronted with the same? Deadma? I certainly won't give in. Maybe I can call the husband of my friend who's a nephew of Alfredo Lim's. What a dilemma...

Intermediates

2008-08-24T07:33:00.001-07:00

Not shorts, not longs, but in-between. Yes, the following post will consists of middle grounds.

1. Michael V is on the cover of Reader's Digest because of his achievements as a comedian. Wow. Given the amount of creative work he puts into it, I guess it's well deserved. Others who may have been qualified would be Willie Nepomuceno and Jon Santos, at least to my mind, considering how well thought out their caricatures are.

2. A Failed cross-cultural romance, nipped in the bud at the very start. A young man proposes to an equally young lady not of his race and she tells him in another world it would have been, but not in this.

3. Gangs who prey ...

a) the other day in the news was an ex-maid or so she portrayed who was arrested after she poisoned fellow-maids or the children of her bosses (the former, the TV version; the latter, the broadsheets' version) so she could steal jewelry and cash. Two of her poison victims were in the hospital for months, the ICU even. Good thing she was caught, all dressed in a trench coat. She has fashion sense, possibly an ukay-ukay purchase? Or did she get it from ZARA using the spoils of her excursions?

b) 3 or four grade school boys from an exclusive boys' school were victimized by the budol-budol gang (is that what you call those who use the following modus operandi?) The account is sketchy but there were these 3 or 4 young boys who played "basketball" in Trinoma. As they left the place where the game was, a man accosted them and said they had broken something and should go back. They were to leave their wallets, cellphones, IPods with one of the boys who was to remain with the man. While the 3 went back to the establishment, the man brought the last boy standing to West AVenue and divested him of the group's valuables. The mall's surveillance cameras purportedly showed that the man had followed the boys from the gaming place to where he finally accosted them.

My takes on the matter: what are surveillance cameras for? Can't malls have someone monitoring them for suspicious characters or activities rather than use what they film as evidence or to catch evil men? Can't they actually be used to effect "caught in the act" arrests like they do in the movies?

Why do budol-budol gangs continue to succeed? Years back, my nephew was a victim. He and his friend were at a gym near Cubao. They were in college by then, I think. Two men accosted the mestizo looking friend of my nephew and said he had done something bad to one of the men's brothers, so to go with them to settle the matter. My nephew is a good person so he didn't want his richer looking friend to go it alone. The men took them to Riverbanks. One of the man pulled down the shirt of my nephew at the back feigning concern, saying "hindi ka pinawisan?" That was a ploy. The man saw the necklace of my nephew. Just as one of the men took my nephew's friend to meet up with their supposedly victim-brother, the other man told my nephew to leave all his valuables on a table and to join his friend. Of course when they got back, the other man had gone, their expensive stuff along with him.

Considering that this happened a long time ago, one would think young boys would have been told to avoid such by their parents, school authorities, media. But either the young victims have refused to listen or there's a problem of ignorance there. I told my husband that maybe the school should hold a school-wide convocation where the 4 victims can recount their experience before everyone so that similar occurrences can be prevented. I don't know. Or maybe the school should write a letter to their parents to tell them to warn the boys. Or teachers can take up the matter with their classes.

Something ought to be done.

Cinderella Redux

2008-08-22T17:14:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not talking about Lea Salonga's version, but the version in my own household.

If you've read some of my earlier posts, you'll know I have 3 maids: A, B and C. They're all related. A and C are cousins of B, A and C are stepsisters, with A older than C.

A is a meanie of the first order. B is a lesser meanie. C is the perpetual and proverbial victim but somehow, she puts up a fight.

This post was provoked by an incident this morning. I asked A to look for a bottle of Bravo sardine pate in the refrigerator. When she seemed to be taking some time, I suggested she look in the "pantry". After a while, she stopped, and then rang the buzzer for C. I asked her what in heaven for. She said it was C who had stocked the pantry.

I told her in no uncertain terms that while it was true C did, she, meaning A, could look for it herself. She could read, after all, and it was she I'd charged to get the bottle.

So she proceeded to the ref again and found it. Meanwhile, C came in and asked why. She grumbled, "Bay-i na lang, ako na lang." Hayyyyyy...

Maid B is no saint either. Once I told her to open the windows of my son's room. Within earshot, she told Maid C, in the dialect, "Later, help me open the window's to _____'s room." Peeved, I asked, "Is it so difficult to do?" She answered, "No, but it was she who closed them." I tell you...

Credit Card Shock

2008-08-22T16:00:00.000-07:00

This morning, 19 August 2008, at around 3:30, catching myself wide awake, as is my wont I reached for the phone to check on my credit card balances. I almost fainted when one yielded the info that I had used up my credit card limit and had gone over it by over Php150k. I calmly checked if my credit card were in my wallet, saw it and thought hard where I had last used it -- in a resto. Horror stories of how some waiters commit fraud by getting info from their customers' cards and using this flooded by mind, but I prayed for calm.

I called the bank again and luckily a human voice immediately took my call after I dialed the right numbers. She apologetically explained that transactions swiped using the BDO machine from 15 to 18 August were computed in dollars and reflected thus last night. She assured that corrections would be made within the day. They were.

Whew.

Where was I on August 21, 1983 and on...

2008-08-22T15:57:00.000-07:00

Today marks the 25th anniversary of Ninoy Aquino's death at the tarmac of the then Manila International Airport. I remember I was watching TV when a news flash reporting on his assassination interrupted my light TV viewing. I was dumbfounded, incredulous, aghast. I was mostly apolitical but a political killing was something I couldn't stomach.

Having been paralyzed for a year and three months by then, I asked God why Ninoy. I even thought God should have taken me instead, although in no way was I a match for the man that Ninoy was, but in terms of any life for someone else's, why not mine?

I guess God wanted the Filipino people to awaken from their lethargy, our lethargy. Because it was only after the death of Ninoy that most of us made known how we felt about the oppression, suppression that haunted our beings since the declaration of martial law.

I am no activist, I am without any intentions to be one, never had any aspirations in that regard either. But enough was enough. And I guess we needed Ninoy to die for us to be shaken out of our apathy.

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

Just like I remember what I was doing when I learned of Ninoy's death, so do I vividly remember how two decades or so earlier, I learned of John F. Kennedy's death, he who was envisioned to lead America's version of Camelot. I had just come in from the garden where I had played on the swing when my father greeted me with the news: JFK is dead. The silence was deafening in the house then despite a tape of my sister playing a Scriabin concerto emanating from a reel tape.

*******************
9-11. The latest of the memorable dates in my 52 years of existence. We were watching TV when the phone rang. My father-in-law asked if we were watching the news. We weren't but promptly switched channels. Oh my God, I thought, a scene right out of the movies. When I saw a plane ram through the skyscraper, I thought it was just a replay of the first one. I fervently hoped it was except that the height at which this plane was doing it didn't appear to be the same height as the first plane's. Incredible. How people can just undertake the taking of so many innocent lives. Just like that.

Neither here nor there (wala diri, wala didto)

2008-08-08T17:06:00.001-07:00

Apparently, this will be a posting of random thoughts, reflections, occurrences, etc. Individually, they do not merit separate postings, hence the lumping.

*****************
Yesterday, a high school classmate of my son's walked home with him. Then the two of them started jamming, if one could call it that, given that their individual instruments were a flute and a piano. When I joined them as a spectator I asked if they were preparing to play at a wedding or party. The flutist (my son's classmate) said, "No, tita, I've just been experiencing a musical drought." He used to be the flutist of their high school theater group and now that they're in college, he is no longer affiliated with any music/theater group so plays for his pleasure, by his lonesome. I asked why he didn't play to/for his girlfriend. His reason: they're no longer "on" and I asked why. (I'm a very curious tita, if you notice). He said she's leaving for abroad in a year or so's time. Though I said "oh" simply, I was truly impressed. Apparently this young man thinks long term and while others will choose to retain the status quo and just break up when the girl leaves, this young man opted to cut it short as early as now because he said "what for? She's leaving."

**********

My cousin who's unaffected because she doesn't live in Metro Manila, will be amused but the man in pink has given me and several others another reason not to vote for him in 2010. He has closed down a U-turn in Katipunan thereby crowding the existing one in front of a school. The alternative -- to drive quite a distance to White Plains almost, to make a U-turn so one can get into Ateneo and Miriam if you're coming from the South. Those coming from the north are not similarly penalized, lucky them. My husband, on the other hand, has to leave early to get to school or drive a distance if we're not early enough, thereby spending more on fuel. Someone consequently wondered, "is he a stockholder of Petron or something?" My son suggested that my husband walk instead, which my son does every day, but my husband said he sweats too profusely to take the route -- walking to school that is.

***********

My soon to be ex-boss came to our table last night to say hello. The last time when we were in a wake together, I realized too late it was he I saw, while he didn't recognize me at all, apparently. When I told this to a friend who also worked for him, she texted him and told him (as I'd told her) that I failed to recognize him immediately because of his new hairstyle. Last night he jested, "O, pareho na hairstyle ko." I interjected, "hindi pa rin eh." He retorted, "Hindi pa rin ba?" Parang hindi. Or maybe I was thinking of his face-sake, a Korea telenovela actor. Now I am confused. Oh well...

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

At the dinner table also last night, someone was saying how a priest was like a dead saint in that when he raised the host during Consecration he took a minute. One of those in the table asked, "Inabot mo ba?" I was so amused I laughed a while there, while the man describing the priest kept talking, apparently unaffected by the carino brutal. Meanwhile, the husband of the latter saw how I was so laughing that he said, "ganyan talaga yan" in reference to his wife. The table was a lot of fun, really, and a pity it was that everyone left not too long after.

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

My son was at the table with us where there were two other young ones, relative to us old fogies. After dinner, one of my son's kinakapatids (whose family hosted the affair) walked over and asked my son to join their table of young ones. My son promptly stood up to do so, leading one father to remark, "oo nga, ba't dito siya sa matatanda?" failing to realize his even younger daughter was falling asleep in our table. I was so touched by the gesture of the kinakapatid of my son who's two years older than my son.

An Amazing Old Man

2008-07-27T00:35:00.000-07:00

Last week, my tutee gave me a pack of pastillas after we finished tutoring. He said it was from his dad. I asked where they got it and he said his Lolo bought it in Tuguegarao. Yes, his 82-year old Lolo did. I asked how his lolo traveled and he said casually, "by bus." I asked "with whom?" He said, "alone."

I was in turn aghast and astounded. An 82-year old going all the way to Tuguegarao on public transport -- a 12-hour ride at the very least. And he brings pasalubong for his apos to boot.

Amazing!

One rainy Sunday

2008-07-26T23:13:00.000-07:00

It was one of those times that I wished I had brought my camera. Close to 12 noon today, I was dressed and ready to wheel to church when the heavens opened its (their?) taps and rain poured. So I decided to wait for husband to come home thinking we'd take the car to church. Meantime, I decided to play a few pieces on the piano. Pieces I learned in grade school and high school. New ones have yet to be learned. But how to when the piano has no fixture to allow a music piece to be propped up?

Then husband arrived and said, "let's go." I asked, "do we take the car?" He said let's just bring an umbrella. By then there was not even a shower and so he wheeled me to church. Our son followed a few minutes later, no umbrella with him.

As the mass proceeded, the winds made their presence felt. We in church felt the rain spray on us, the church being largely open on all sides unless the glass folding doors are unfurled. After some time, the ladies in brown (Mother Butler) closed the glass doors to shield the mass goers from the rain. There was a let-up and they opened the glass doors once more.

I couldn't keep my mind on the mass. The weather so reminded me of my days in Negros. To complete the flashback, I have this bad cold that made me really feel like I did when I was a child when it would rain hard and the floor on the corridor just outside my room would be wet unless the trapals (now referred to as tarpaulin) were drawn down. See the corridors were roofed but did not have solid walls on the other side. Instead grills allowed the air through. And rains too if the winds were particularly strong. As I saw the rain being blown inwards, I also recalled my grade and high school days in St. Scho because while the corridor had a solid concrete wall, it only reached so high and inevitably, rain would swish inwards when the winds were strong through the upper portion up till the ceiling. More often than not, I was sick then or had a very bad cold at the very least.

Oh for those days. Life was so much simpler then, not only because that was back in the sixties and seventies, but because of the age I was in: pre-teen to teen. Issues that had to be dealt with then were prom dates, what to wear, test scores, etc. These days, 30 plus years later, issues are graver. Illness in the family, rising costs, relatives of one's husband, etc. Receiving calls before six in the morning that didn't have to be made so early as to awaken-- the issue could have waited without any consequence. People then were so much more considerate, courteous, proper. Anyway...

When the mass ended, the rains and winds were way too strong so that only a handful braved both to go to their cars or, heavens, walk home. No umbrella could have shielded one from getting wet because of the winds. As people thronged to the inner portions of the church, away from the doors, in anticipation of the rains' letting up, I found the situation a tad ironic. There we were looking like evacuees/refugees in our parish church even as our houses weren't too far away and were in no way in danger. As people milled, the buzz of voices was stilled by the crash of glass. A frame suspended from the ledge on the second level of the church had fallen right smack on the middle aisle at the back, but as God would have it and in his wisdom and kindness, there was no one where it landed. I guess He thought "these people braved the storm to come to my house". So he spared us all.

We saw our neighbor who had brought her car. When she learned we hadn't, she offered to take us, but that would have been impossible because of my wheelchair. Too much hassle. Instead, we wangled a ride for our son who got the car and came back for us in it. Deja vu. Two weeks ago, the same thing had happened. We were stranded in church, our son went home with a friend and picked us up in the car.

Filipinos - Eaten

2008-07-21T02:30:00.001-07:00

Yummy. Here are pictures of the pack and one Filipino. Brown Filipinos. Kayumanggi Filipinos. Not Mestizo Filipinos, not dark either. Yummy. Crunchy. Made by Kraft Foods Galletas, S.A.U.

A Mother's Life when her son is sick

2008-07-20T17:00:00.000-07:00

When my son woke up with hives yesterday morning, my world stopped. It seemed like they were in almost all parts of his body: his torso, his back, his arms, his legs. Only his neck and face were spared. Gave him Benadryl and contemplated on staying home rather than hearing mass. He told us, my husband and me, that is, to go to mass.

While at mass, I did what I usually frown at when I see people doing it in church: text. I texted my son at regular intervals to check on him. At one point, while I was doing so, a hand patted my arm to say hello. This was during communion. The person who did this was on his way back to his seat. I smiled back. Later it occurred to me that perhaps he was thinking how rude I was to be texting in church. But who am I to feel bad if he did? I would have thought the same too, in the past. Now I know better than to judge.

At any rate, in one text message, my son assured me the hives were gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, we went home and had lunch. Around 2 p.m., the hives were back. My son drank Benadryl again. But he kept scratching and looking at the hives, his reflection in the mirror, etc. My husband said, "isn't that dengue?" I think the thought scared my son even as I reassured him that I didn't think it was dengue. He himself said "these aren't rashes." But I guess he was scared because when I asked if he wanted to go to the ER of Medical City, he agreed.

To speed things up, I decided I shouldn't go with them. If I did, I'd have delayed them. So off they went. The doctor in ER injected my son with Benadryl. And within minutes, the hives disappeared, the way chalk marks do when an eraser is passed over them.

Then it was 9 p.m. The hives were back. To a lesser degree, but they were back. I asked my son if he wanted to go back to the hospital, this time he said no. This time he drank Antamin which a cousin and a friend-dermatologist recommended. The hives subsided shortly. As he dozed off, I stayed awake. The TV was off, the IPOD was off. I wanted to watch out if he had difficulty breathing.

I got some novenas, prayed. I got his bible, read. I took a handful of my hair to check if there were frizzy strands, cut. I got the MIMs, read. I was doing anything and everything but sleep. Occasionally, he'd turn to me, smile, embrace and then go back to sleep. That more than made up for staying awake. At times I'd doze off and then suddenly awaken when he'd kiss or embrace me.

At 2:30 he began to scratch again. I applied holy water on the hives, even as earlier I had asked my husband to do the same. He awakened, went to the bathroom and listened to my suggestion to take some Skyflakes and Antamin. Before long he was asleep and our routine resumed.

A few minutes ago, he left for school. Though I told him he could stay home, he chose to go to school. He brought some antihistamines with him, just in case.

I hope and pray he'll be well soonest. If you happen to read this, please pray he recovers quickly.

Thank you

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

2008-07-18T18:23:00.000-07:00

So goes the first line of an eighties song. And what am I referring to?

The series of surprises sprung on me by friends, relatives,even the friend of my son. The list in random order:

1. Roli's sate babi - 3orders direct from Bacolod, skewers removed, with sate rice. Heaven. From my favorite female cousin, mama's side who planed in a few weeks ago. Thanks gid ha.

2. Atis - two installments, sweet, very sweet literally and figuratively. And a box of krispy kreme donuts and a buddy pack of meiji chocolates I haven't dipped my hand into yet and what else? Sa dami I can't remember. From my favorite Taytay confidante, my future wedding inaanak (pagawa na naman ako ng gown? anong color? pwede replay? joke lang, for you a new gown.)

3.a bottle of Bath and Body Works hand soap from my son's friend from his singing group. I love this boy -- gentle, soft-spoken but always alert and patient with my questions. Ang bait talaga. One morning he sent a message via multiply that he was giving me something, he posted a picture of it. But stupid me thought the picture was it -- these days that's done, di ba? Then when my son came home from practice that night, it was the hand soap in the flesh. I felt like a fool, but a happy, touched, sentimental old fool. My husband and son were wondering why the gift when there was no occasion. All these years they haven't learned about spontaneous thoughtful gestures from me? Duhh. Just kidding. But such gestures really brighten one's day -- the giver's as well as the recipient's, right? Oh well, I'll have to teach them some more by example. Or maybe the examples number so many they no longer notice? Hmmm...

4. Puto - yesterday, my tummy was grumbling but I didn't know what to eat. Dyspepsia symptoms? Motilium then? Nah. As I typed on while wondering what to eat, the doorbell rang. In came the maid with a black plastic container with very white PUTO. Courtesy of my sister. Yahoo.

5. Filipinos. Have you eaten brown Filipinos? White Filipinos? Dark Filipinos? Whaaattt? Canniba!!!! Have you forgotten how years back a ruckus was raised against a confectionery for naming his chocolate creations "FILIPINOS"? Back then I asked my friend who was traipsing the world to get me one of each flavor - Chew and that friend know why--my husband likes dark, my son white, I like milk chocolate. But she failed to find any. Today, the sister who brought me puto gave me a pack of brown Filipinos from another sister who just planed in from Spain and the US. I surmise she got it from the former as the blurb on the pack is in Espanol.

So have I eaten a Filipino? Not yet because I want to take my first bite with my husband and son, neither of whom is here now. The son is out in a GK village teaching a first year high school student for NSTP in lieu of ROTC. Husband is working hard at keeping fit. So maybe I should spare him an added ounce by depriving him of a Filipino. Whatchathink?

The Memory Keeper's Daughter and My Brother

2008-07-17T00:24:00.001-07:00

In my other blog I wrote about it and my cousin made a comment on it. Suddenly, a rush of emotions flooded my being. I remembered my brother...

Jun was mentally retarded. Being 6 years younger than he was, I never saw him as a baby. That sounds so inane but I particularly felt bad about it when a sister brought over an album and I saw his pictures as a baby, looking very normal: chubby, cute, normal. I felt bad that I missed those months, years, whatever time that was.

My father who's 91 keeps blaming my brother's yaya for his retardation. According to him, she had epilepsy and possibly dropped him during one of her convulsions, damaging his brain in the process. Looking at my brother's pictures, where he appeared very normal, I am inclined to think my father may be correct. What a pity. I'd have had an older brother.

Way back my father would rationalize that perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that my brother was the way he was because had he been "normal" to the end, he might have been a killer, a drug addict, whatever. What made my father think that? My brother was the only son in a family of 7 so my father feared he'd have been spoiled rotten by our mother. But was that likely with my father around? And who knows for sure?

Anyway, going back to the pictures, a number of them evoked memories because by then I had been born and was old enough to relate to him. But I didn't relate to him too much because being the youngest, I guess then it was more of me being the baby rather than me looking after anyone. I did reach out to him sometimes, would take his hand which he'd hold tight in his. I did this because I saw an older sister, the one closest to him, do the same. So you can imagine how relieved I was that one of the pictures in the album showed me, then a pre-teen, I think, tinkering with his hair while he sat on his wheelchair, smiling but I guess, oblivious to everyone. But he did look happy.

How I wish I were around when he was normal, if indeed he was. How I wish I had reached out to him more often, when I was growing up. How I wish I were a better sister. But it's too late now, he having passed away when I was in high school, back when I was 17 and he, 23.

My only consolation is that hours before he passed away, we had visited him in the hospital. He looked so calm and peaceful then breathing better following a tracheotomy. Not once did I think that would be the last time I'd see him alive...

(Sorry if there are errors in this post, I am not ready to reread and correct, but I did want to share how I feel...)

The Local News

2008-07-16T16:58:00.000-07:00

I absolutely hate it when able-bodied men and women beg, steal or borrow because they're too lazy to work.

Just now, on TV, it was reported that a young lady's purse was snatched by three men. Later at the police precinct, to her consternation, she discovered that the three men were her neighbors. How disgusting, absolutely disgusting. The reason one of them said, "Biglaan". Not premeditated. Oh really now? One time a snatcher was caught and his reason: walang makakain. No food? Why don't they find work? Sloth or pride? Another said his wife was pregnant. So why not find work? What kind of example are these men setting for their children, unborn or already alive? That crime pays?

Darn...

Suicide

2008-07-06T18:24:00.000-07:00

Suicide is Painless

Through early morning fog I see

visions of the things to be

the pains that are withheld for me

I realize and I can see...

[REFRAIN]:

that suicide is painless

It brings on many changes

and I can take or leave it if I please.

I try to find a way to make

all our little joys relate

without that ever-present hate

but now I know that it's too late, and...

[REFRAIN]

The game of life is hard to play

I'm gonna lose it anyway

The losing card I'll someday lay

so this is all I have to say.

[REFRAIN]

The only way to win is cheat

And lay it down before I'm beat

and to another give my seat

for that's the only painless feat.

[REFRAIN]

The sword of time will pierce our skins

It doesn't hurt when it begins

But as it works its way on in

The pain grows stronger...watch it grin, but...

[REFRAIN]

A brave man once requested me

to answer questions that are key

is it to be or not to be

and I replied 'oh why ask me?'

[REFRAIN]

'Cause suicide is painless

it brings on many changes

and I can take or leave it if I please.

...and you can do the same thing if you please.

Back in the seventies, this song became a hit. But all I knew of it was the refrain "Suicide is painless, it brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it as I please."

Even as I had posted the lyrics, I still hadn't read the lines. But...

What brings on this post? No, I'm not contemplating the idea. Rather, I would like to reflect on the issue, a friend's son having taken his life exactly a week ago today. I knew the boy, he was quiet and polite. Weeks back, I saw him in their house, called to him as he sat on the stair steps. Upon hearing me, he called my name, stood up and walked to me, bent to give me a kiss on the cheek. We small talked, I told him I'd been seeing his friend frequently, he said "talaga?" Then we bade him goodbye, after which, perhaps, he went back to his lonely perch on the stair steps.

I'm glad if but for a minute or so, I had reached out to him. At least, somehow, I don't have to say "sayang I didn't."

At any rate, since learning of the incident, I have experienced a whole gamut of emotions: sadness, pain, anger, confusion. I have shed tears for the boy and his family. Questions have cropped up in my mind, probable answers - speculations really. What drove him to do it, I wondered? I still wonder till today, seven days later, and while initially it seemed so easy to come up with probable answers, now I hesitate to think I do. Because I don't. Some believe they know the reason, they theorize; but then again, they cannot be sure. How could they? Only God and the young man know for sure, and as so many have said, God is a loving God, he forgives. He accepts. He continues to love. So who are we to do otherwise?

Still the issue begs for answers. Why are people driven to commit suicide? What is it in this world that drives them to do it?

Last Saturday, a cousin and I talked about the issue, and among other things, she mentioned how ironic it is that some people who are very sick go through all sorts of measures to get better, to prolong their lives. Then here is a boy, 24 years old, who's physically healthy but decides to end it all. Being myself physically disabled, I've actually asked "couldn't we have exchanged spinal cords before you jumped off to your death?" after I learned of some people jumping off buildings to the cold ground, thus snuffing out their lives. So why do they do it? Problems, issues, too big for them to handle? So how come people with seemingly bigger issues and problems are able to cope? I don't know.

Years back, the Catholic Church refused to allow people who died by suicide into the church. The Church has since changed its mind and grown compassionate. Years back, when Jimmy Ongpin took his life, some priests said something had possibly snapped in his head when he decided to pull the trigger. Years back too, a batchmate took his life in the cemetery, possibly because of similar circumstances as JO. He wasn't guilty of any crime ; just possibly he had been used but didn't have the right connections to get out of it the way his confreres were able to. I don't know.

Was he being wise in doing what he did? Was he being fair to himself and his family by doing what he did? One can only speculate.

The suicide of my friend's son is so close to home that I have become more enlightened in the sense that I now think it is not fair to speculate, to judge. A quiet acceptance of the suicide per se seems called for, along with compassion and understanding. No answers will be forthcoming in this life, only God knows and yet he cares.

After typing the above paragraphs, I finally decided to read the lyrics of the song. Is it possible that the 30-year old lyrics, more or less, reflect/encapsulate what goes on in the mind of people who do it? The lyrics, yet again:

Suicide is Painless

Through early morning fog I see

visions of the things to be

the pains that are withheld for me

I realize and I can see...

[REFRAIN]:

that suicide is painless

It brings on many changes

and I can take or leave it if I please.

I try to find a way to make

all our little joys relate

without that ever-present hate

but now I know that it's too late, and...

[REFRAIN]

The game of life is hard to play

I'm gonna lose it anyway

The losing card I'll someday lay

so this is all I have to say.

[REFRAIN]

The only way to win is cheat

And lay it down before I'm beat

and to another give my seat

for that's the only painless feat.

[REFRAIN]

The sword of time will pierce our skins

It doesn't hurt when it begins

But as it works its way on in

The pain grows stronger...watch it grin, but...

[REFRAIN]

A brave man once requested me

to answer questions that are key

is it to be or not to be

and I replied 'oh why ask me?'

[REFRAIN]

'Cause suicide is painless

it brings on many changes

and I can take or leave it if I please.

...and you can do the same thing if you please.

Reflections/Recollections on a Homily at a Wake

2008-07-02T16:54:00.001-07:00

Last night I attended the mass for the son of a dear couple, who passed away at the young age of 24. The homily the priest delivered was one of the best, if not the best I've heard in a long while, especially at a wake.

One thing I recall clearly is what he said about "buds" dying, in reference to the youth of the deceased. He said God gathers even those buds and makes them perfect in the garden among the full-blown flowers in heaven.

He also mentioned how people would say to the bereaved family that the death of a dear one is "God's will". He clarified how not everything that happens is God's will, but may be born out of decisions man makes because of free will. I am always amazed at how people blame God and ask how He can allow evil to prosper when the evil actually stems from a bad/wrong decision made by the one blaming God. Just because that bad decision resulted to misfortune, the person blames God? But when the bad decision turns in favor of the decision-maker, he takes all the credit? Something wrong there.

When one goes to a wake to comfort the bereaved, words are never enough. Sometimes, they are too much even if they are well meant. Sometimes, silence, a comforting shoulder, one's presence, a tight embrace are the best forms of consolation one can offer. Sometimes,too, the bereaved family becomes the source of acceptance and strength of those who come to console - a reversal of roles, admittedly, but it happens. Maybe the bereaved family draws strength from the immense grace they are showered with at such a difficult time. Yes, maybe, they do...

Missing Something

2008-06-27T18:07:00.000-07:00

Watching The Sweet Life of Lucy and reading her column in Philippine Star make me realize how much I miss my growing up years in Negros. Lucy is disarmingly probinsiyana and makes no bones to hide it in either medium. In The Sweet Life, she constantly says words in the dialect and Wilma reacts and mimics her, eliciting a chuckle from Lucy in the process. Listening to Lucy makes me realize how so many words in Ilonggo are similar to those in her dialect. I believe she's from Ormoc.

Years back, we were in Wendy's and they were offering this salad buffet. I think I may have recounted this in a previous post but I'm repeating it here. In the next table to ours, someone commented upon seeing the mountainful of salad atop a companion's place, "daw sungak-sungak ka ba." I hadn't heard the expression in years and it so amused me. Yesterday, a victim of Typhoon Frank said "ang mga pamuluyo" and while I knew what that meant, I couldn't translate it for my Tagalog husband.

Having lived more than half of my life in Manila has caused me to lose touch with many words in the Ilonggo dialect, especially "deep" words which I never ever encountered to begin with. Hearing Ilonggo spoken by strangers always draws a smile from me, a nudge to my husband in the mall or my son, after which I say, "Ilonggo, or nose-nose" just so I won't be too obvious.

That I haven't lost my Ilonggo accent though it's been 34 years since I've lived in Manila is perhaps a testimony to how much I love the province where I came from.

Funny that this post was provoked by a comment to my previous blog about my ninang dress, an expletive which only an ILonggo can utter without thought, without provocation. Just part of the system, not mine, never mine. So I deleted the aberration.

The Revised Design of My Ninang Gown

2008-06-27T05:40:00.001-07:00

Can you see it? This was faxed to me. It looks okay on paper. I hope it looks even better executed. Will post a picture as soon as I get it.

Here is a picture of the gown

I'm still not enamored. wahhhhhhh!

Bothersome Occurrences, ok CRIMES

2008-06-24T17:13:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, a cousin called to tell me that in a waiting shed in one university campus, three girls were robbed of their laptops one night at knife-point. The alleged holdupper even raised his shirt to reveal a gun tucked under his pants. Wondering why the girls were with their laptops in the waiting shed? Wonder no more.

The three girls are dormers of a campus dorm. Thing is the Internet signal in their dorm is weak if it is available at all. So they wandered off outside to find a signal and found it under the waiting shed, only to be divested of their laptops.

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

Yesterday as my son sat in front of his laptop, he muttered, "nanakawan si xxxx. Binasag ang bintana ng kanyang kotse sa Esteban Abada kung saan siya nag park para makabili sa National (in Katipunan)." Guess what were taken? A calculator and an Accounting book.

I find that very cruel: to break the window of a car to get a calculator which costs less than P500 and a book costing less than a P1000? who might have use for either or both? Another student? A professional thief won't get much from such an intrusion and would know better. Or did the thief think he'd find a laptop? Darn, darn, darn...

Is Mercury in Retrograde? Or a series of mishaps/irritants/conundrums

2008-06-23T02:15:00.000-07:00

I don't know where to start but I have to start somewhere. Yes, yes, I know this is trivial compared to the ordeal Ces et al. endured in Sulu. And it's really trivial compared to what the victims of the sinking of The Princess ferry went through. Still these are my current irritants, so I have to vent.

Last Friday, I was due to see my ninang gown. But I wasn't able to go so I called Saturday morning and was told it would be ready by 2 pm. Imagine, had I gone Friday as scheduled, I'd have gone for naught.

So Saturday pm, I went to the shop that made my dress at around 3 pm. Wow, from the doorway I saw my gown and it wasn't at all pretty. I couldn't help but tell my husband, "Ang pangit. HIndi maganda." I didn't bother to convince myself that it looked all right because it didn't. Sure, I'm partly to blame because I have a shapeless body, blimp-like. But the gown was just so blah. I should have taken its picture.

When the design was presented to me two weeks earlier, it looked good. But executed, wow, it was yucky. V-neckline. FIne. Wrap-around sort of, fine. Pleats on one side of the skirt, fine. Sleeves - two layers pwede na. But flowers of the same cloth as the gown, lots of them -yuck. And the flowers' petals were flying everywhere. Think of butterfly wings flapping on Jolina's head way back when she was aping Punky Brewster. Not just one butterfly, but a farm-ful. But in my gown's case, a bush-ful. The gown looked like a negligee's robe. The cloth to begin with was light, not chiffon-transparent or translucent, but light nonetheless.

The shop owner wasn't around but the girl who attended to me was solicitous enough (practice makes perfect?). She suggested removing the flowers. I said yes please. I was worried doing that would make the holes where they were sewn evident, she assured me they wouldn't be. What next? She suggested putting beads. I said ok.

Oh another thing. while I'd have preferred a skirt and blouse, they made it a gown with a cut in the waist. Like I said I have a blimp for a body so I couldn't imagine myself in it. I asked if they could make the top a blouse but then it would be too short, they said. Then the gay tailor(?) came out with a sketch. The bottom portion of the blouse would consist of two layers like the sleeves. The sleeves were bell-like, the blouse would have a graduated hem. I'm not sure I'm describing what the design looked like well enough. Oh well. They also suggested putting beads on the sleeves, the hem and the waist - on one side. I asked for a collar. As I thought of the design when I got home I wasn't sure I'd like how it turned out. Texted the shop owner and she said she'd redesign it so I'd like it. I hope she does. Two things I asked for: simple but elegant. Will keep you posted.

This experience mirrors what my niece who's getting married told me when I suggested she have a wedding gown made. She said "no way". She'd rather buy off the rack. She had two horror stories to tell and one stood out: a friend of hers didn't like the gown made by a known designer so she ended up wearing something else on her wedding day. In the event that my gown doesn't turn out to my liking, I just might skip the wedding. It's no joke to look frumpy on such a special occasion.

Travail No. 2: Last week, got my water bill. It was higher than the previous month's. So I told the maids to slow down on consumption. For one, though I had told them several times not to use the water hose anymore, one time I caught one of them hosing the dog's you know what with it. So imagine what a waste of water that is. The faucet is some distance from the dog so while the maid walks to the faucet to turn it off, some water is wasted. Anyway, one day last week, when I returned from shopping, they gave me the news. They tested the toilets and found out that even when no one was using any, the water meter was "moving". So they experimented and determined the culprit. the yellow bathroom. Promptly, I called the maintenance man of where my husband works and he checked the system. He adjusted it, no change. He suggested the control be closed when not in use and said possibly, the problem was with the water pipes underneath. The maids were flummoxed. they insisted the problem was with the water closet in the yellow toilet.

So I called an architect friend who sent his plumber. The plumber recommended changing the toilet fittings of the 3 toilets because they were all run down. He was an old man so I thought he knew everything. I bought the necessary stuff and he came to replace the old ones. Thing is, when he was done, problem persisted. Worse, where before the meter didn't move if the controls were closed, now it moved even if the controls were closed. Hayyyyyyyyyyy. what do do? I don't know. I asked him he said, maybe the pipes underneath. Back to square 1.

Pipes underneath - bakbak/major undertaking. Tiles would have to be removed and replaced. New pipes put in, no longer underground but they'd have to be concealed by some tiles. darn, darn, darn.

I'll have the project estimated for cost but no guarantee there that I'll have it done. Unless I win the lotto or a windfall from who knows where drops on my lap?

A New "Old" Friend

2008-06-12T22:09:00.000-07:00

For years now, I've been seeing this man in church and have noticed him for two reasons. He walks with some difficulty (and I can empathize/sympathize) and he looks like a friend of my father's when he was active in Rotary. He lives along the street where the parish church is.

It has been some time, too, when I have been wanting to condole with him because I read of his son's alleged suicide aboard a coast guard or Navy boat, just when he was supposed to have noted an anomaly somewhere and was about to report it or something. The details are now sketchy in my mind but I remember how I felt when I saw an image of the alleged suicide on TV. It couldn't have been one. The position of the gun on the floor while the man was on the bed, dead, seemed improbable.

It wasn't immediately then that I realized this old man was the father of the ill-fated soldier. I only knew for sure that it was he when I read an article on the Spirit Questors or saw a feature on them (so long ago, I can't recall which), trying to get in touch with the spirit of the son. Mention was made of our area.

Anyway, this a.m., after mass, (it's the feast day of my patron saint, St. Anthony of Padua), I decided to stop by a tianggue (appreciate that as the Ilonggo kind rather than the Greenhills kind) where I hqe noticed a table selling pineapples at P15, 20 and P25 each on our way to church. I decided to get one for my husband because I had P50 with me. I still had enough for Inquirer after getting the pineapple, I thought.

As I was parked on the side of the road, I noticed the "old" man standing nearby looking at the people buying. He had also just come from church. Impatient that my maid was taking so long, I thought of asking him "Are you Mr. X?" He said "yes" and I immediately asked if he were the brother of my father's friend. He said "yes" again. Then he said, "Those pineapples are sweet. They're from my farm." Oops, my IQ wasn't working. All along, it hadn't occurred to me that the tianggue was just in front of a wall of his property. I thought his property was but the nice house with portholes (so reminiscent of his son's assignment, no?). And then I asked where his farm was, expecting he'd say Laguna or somewhere far. He said it was in Antipolo.

We talked some more and he told me he was in Bacolod for six years where he was with an insurance company. He thus also knew another friend of my father's, a friend who had been my sister's boss. Small world. I guess that was what prompted him to say, "Someday, I'll invite you to my farm." I found that suggestion so sweet of him, never mind if it will never come to pass. The mere thought so touched me. He also introduced his wife to me but she didn't join our conversation. She merely smiled.

Eventually he left us but the maid was not yet done buying one pineapple. She was haggling that it be sold her for P10 because another customer she said got 2 for P20. I told her to just pay P15 and be done with it. To begin with P15 for a pineapple isn't much. In fact way back when my son was 3 or 4 years old, 15 years ago, that same table sold pineapples for P10, so considering the inflation and the intervening years, a P5 difference isn't something to "sweat" about, right?

So there. Fancy how age has made me less shy to strike up conversations with people. Weeks back, also in church, a man approached my husband and me asking where we lived because he'd see us and we him in the many churches in the area. Turned out he's the brother of a friend of my sisters. He's into koi breeding. When i showed interest in it, he asked if we had a pond. He gives rejects out, you see. Much as I'd have wanted one koi (aka goldfish in my unenlightened youth), I couldn't lie to a new-found friend.

The Filipino Language

2008-06-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

Way back in the early seventies. when we were in high school, we had this teacher in Filipino who took us aback. She had a cool way of pronouncing and spelling Filipino words. To this day, I'll never forget what she told us "high school" is in Filipino. I myself thought she'd say "mataas na paaralan." Instead she said and wrote, "haiskul."

That to my mind marked a transition of sorts for the Filipino language. A transition that has remained unabated, again, to my mind, because I don't profess to being a linguist, not even to minimal proficiency in what is and should actually be my mother tongue.

Whenever I hear mass in Filipino (tagalog), I would usually translate the words I hear in English, and the translation doesn't come easy if it comes at all. So I tend to be unable to follow what the priest is saying. Lucky for me if the gospel or readings are familiar because then I'd get what it is about. But if they're not, wow, I'm lost. A few Sundays ago the first line of a reading went "ang mabuting trigo". Offhand, trigo for me is short for Trigonometry, hardly an apt translation in something Bible-related. So what does trigo translate to? Trinity? From context clues I could still gather nothing. Oh well. I could have looked at the dictionary when I got home but then the rest of the text of that reading had been lost.

Back then I had thought of blogging about the issue but it slipped my mind. then yesterday I met two people connected to the publishing world and they asked me if I knew anyone who could edit textbooks written in Filipino.

I asked two friends and right off, they said, "not Filipino", a stark confirmation of what the two people I met yesterday lamented: finding editors of Filipino works is not easy. Strange isn't it? But why is this so?

We tried to brainstorm why and more or less agreed that the ever changing rules of the language may be responsible. For instance, back when I was in school, you'd conjugate patay and say, "nakakamatay". But now, the signs of MMDA read, "Bawal tumawid dito. Nakamamatay." When I first read this, I balked. Where did that come from, I wondered aloud. Then my son who's 34 years younger than I answered, "Mama, that's correct". I wondered, "since when?" WHen did they change the rules and who did? In the first place, who's been making the rules?

Another reason: our dictionaries, of which there are quite a few. There's the series of Leo English, a Redemptorist priest, therefore American-- yes, an American wrote a Filipino English dictionary and vice versa. then there's the so-called Vicassan, a rather thick and heavy volume, There's also UP's dictionary in burgundy which mixes tagalog and english words and alphabetizes them interspersed; that is it doesn't separate Tagalog entries from English ones.

So far, I have seen one Tagalog-Tagalog dictionary which is useful if the teacher asks for a definition of a tagalog word in tagalog, rather than its translation in English. But this is a small and thin volume, so it doesn't help if your teacher is up there in terms of proficiency.

So what do we do? I don't know. I am as much at a loss for answers to this issue. What has caused it in the first place? Are other countries/languages in the world similarly situated? is the Filipino language so young and are these but mere growing up pains?

Someone, please do something.

Chivalry is not dead

2008-06-04T17:09:00.000-07:00

Among the old, that is. This morning, heard mass with my husband. The mass had just begun when in came this frail old lady who had a cane. Helping her along was a houseboy who brought her to the door and slung her bag across her shoulder. Then he simply left her to fend for herself.

As she grabbed the door knob, I became nervous. It was apparent she had poor balance but the boy had just left her there, making me wonder: was that what she had ordered him? Or is he anti-Catholic? Uncaring? what? Because, again, he left her there.

Taking one quivering step at a time, holding a cane in one quivering hand at the end of one quivering arm, she made her way to the last pew in church, no not to settle there but to hold on to it for balance. Then she ever so slowly, all the while seemingly about to fall, wended her way forward.

After she took a few steps, an old man, who looked like a foreigner or mestizo at the very least, crossed the center aisle to reach her and led her gently, her hand on his arm, to the front row. He smiled as he did. So there, chivalry isn't dead, but it is only among the old that it seems to live on.

For how many young men this days bother to give their seat to a lady in a crowded church? How many?

Has the world become such that the motto of everyone is "survival of the fittest", or maybe "to each his own." Sad. Sometimes, I tell my son or husband to help when I see someone in need. Sometimes they hesitate. Shy daw sila. Oh well...

Getting to Know Dhang

2008-05-28T22:44:00.000-07:00

Dhang is a neighbor. She rents an apartment two gates to our left. The apartment has 3 rooms and has bedspacers. Dhang also has her family with her: her parents, her siblings, and her toddler. Notice? No husband.

But Dhang is special. IN the past years/months, I'd smile at her when we'd pass by her place where she sold barbecue, tapsilog, newspapers then (no longer now), cigarettes and cellular phone loads. Last Monday, I finally met her up close and we talked for a while.

I went to the barangay because earlier my husband was there to get a barangay clearance. He didn't need to give a picture, he said, and that pleased me because I can't find my ID photos. So I thought of getting a barangay ID, thinking that was what he got. Serves me right for only half-listening. Besides I also called and was told I didn't need an ID picture. So there.

One time, I should take a picture of our barangay hall, office, grounds. It has a garden, a pond with two turtles, a bridge, a structure where there's a botica ni Gloria or something, a canteen, covered courts, a fire truck etc. Oh yes, there's a gazebo that leads to the offices. Thing is, the path to the office is a bit rough, the gazebo has two steps. So whenever I need something from the office, I let the maid go to the office to tell them I'm just outside, may I get a residence certificate? They graciously accommodate my request and step out of their airconditioned office if I have to sign something. last Monday, they just handed the stuff to the maid for me to sign.

The wait was a bit long and so I gazed at the skies every once in a while as its hues morphed from bright to gray, a clear indication of rain coming. We didn't have any umbrellas. Occasionally, I'd feel a drop or two on my arm but I wasn't alarmed. Then Dhang came. We smiled. I was alone then because the maids were in the office. I decided to strike a conversation with her and I'm glad I did.

I asked why she was there and she said she was waiting for her barangay clearance to be signed. She had filled up the form in the morning but the barangay captain wasn't around which was why she was back there again. She needed the clearance because she had just bought a franchise for a tricycle. If I'm not mistaken, she got the franchise from a person who held it previously for either P45k or P75k. Days back I saw the body of a trike beside our gate. At first it was painted orange, the following day its paint had been peeled off. Also saw several motorbikes. This she got for P45k, ok so the franchise must have been P75k. She said she could have almost paid for the motorbike in cash using her earnings from her loading business but needed a few thousands more. So she paid for most of it and the balance spread over two years at P3k per month. She also told me about her brother whom she'd sent to college in Dumaguete. It was he who prepared the marinade for whatever food they were selling, because he had taken up HRM. He worked in PHOA Libis for 10 months and was the resto's direct hire. After 10 months, they had to be coursed through the agency and he balked. The agency would get a good portion of his pay. SO now he's helping Dhang manage her business. He explains to her whatever documents she has to sign (franchise, bank) etc. because Dhang said she hadn't gone to school.

Dhang is ever on the lookout for a business to start. She said it isn't easy but she has to do it for her family. When she finally got her barangay clearance I saw an ID and I asked what it was: postal ID. Cost her P300 and she said she had to get it so she could open an account in a bank -- a revelation that reminded me of how I couldn't open an account in Citibank because I didn't have enough valid IDs. Strange no, considering I have a CItibank credit card. They don't want me to deposit to their bank but they "lend me money" through the card. Does that make sense? Dhang's story about how she sets up one business after another so her money works reminds me of the ideas from the book Rich Dad, Poor Dad.. If she doesn't give up, she'll be rich.

Dhang has one bad eye that cannot see. It's grayish in fact. Seems while playing as a child, part of a broom hit the eye or worse and blinded it.

What an amazing woman.

The Early Morning

2008-05-24T08:34:00.000-07:00

Well, not that early. But for the second time this week, two maids and I wheeled/walked to church for the 6:30 a.m. mass. Prior to doing so, I asked Maid C if it were raining or seemed like it would rain. She said yes, the skies were dark. As I could see a glimmer of the sky through the blinds in the room, I wasn't sure she had answered me truthfully. So I asked her to call my husband who was in the sala surfing. Asked him the same question. His answer "the sky is clear, no threat of rain is evident." I called Maid B and prepared for mass. As maid C was putting on my sandals, she said "Abi ko anay kaina daw ma ulan, indi gali." Whoops, now I wonder how many times they had deceived me in the past just so I stay put and not be asked to be wheeled to mass or the grocery. Hmmmmmm.

As we reached the gate, I saw a tiny plant on the ground where the cement had given way to soil, maybe two inches in diameter. The plant had dicotyledons breaking apart revealing a stem creeping up. what a refreshing sight.

As we neared the church, I saw a motorcycle-riding newsboy (a man actually) make the sign of the cross as he drove past the church. Wow how edifying.

Come communion time, the ladies in brown (Mother Butler) asked me to go first (this was news: in the past, my being in a wheelchair saw me requested by at least two priests to go last so I wouldn't disrupt the flow of people). Apparently, they're trying out a new system where the last row goes first, then the second to the last, onto the first row.

Something the priest said disturbed me. He talked about how the disabled have charism according to Fr. arevalo, in that they allow those around them to show compassion. Then he said something to the effect that even the seemingly useless have charism. was he alluding to my ilk? Wow, low blow. Benefit of the doubt but coming so close to the heels of his mentioning the sector to which I belong...

Odds and Ends

2008-05-24T07:58:00.001-07:00

We went to Shangrila this p.m. and here are a few highlights of the trip to the mall.

Bought two magazines: Yes' June edition and it's 100 Beautiful Faces or something to that effect. I buy Yes monthly without fail, so there have been instances when the magazine has disappointed me: like when it featured jessa Zaragosa. Yes one issue had several pages on Jessa. I'm not a fan. The June issue has a surfeit of articles on Sharon Cuneta, gabby Concepcion and KC Concepcion. Heavens. hello. not everyone wants to read pages upon pages on one family's members. At least there are a few pictures on Rudy Fernandez and his friends. I'm not sure I'll read the articles on the Concepcions and the ex-Concepcion, so chances are, I won't be able to maximize the issue.

The 100 Beautiful People. My son looked at it page by page. I asked, "is Heart Evangelista there?" No, he said. Who else aren't but should be? He said Angel Locsin and Bianca King. I personally believe Nadine Samonte should be there too, aside from Heart. Cheska Garcia even. Oh well...

Then later, in front of National Bookstore, saw this rich looking toddler dressed in a green shirt and long white shorts. He was being tickled silly by his two yayas. Yes, that's right, two yayas. In the process, his diaper fell off one yaya's shoulder. Maybe the yaya has back problems because guess how she picked it up? I would have fainted if I were the mother and witnessed it. She clipped one end of the towel between her big toe and the next, got the thing from between her toes and slung it across her shoulder. Promise, she did do that. Oh my.

We went to Toby's and without thinking, I asked one clerk, "do you have a pedometer?" Then I realized, I must have sounded crazy, asking if they had one, considering that a pedometer measures the number of steps one takes in a day. me, in a wheelchair, asking about a pedometer. To the clerk's credit, he remained stoic as he pointed us to the shelves containing the apparatus. costing P2000 plus, the pedometer is maid in Taiwan. My husband's attention was called to it when some professors from Singapore mentioned it and said walking 10k steps a day is ideal, and a pedometer allows you to keep track. But we didn't buy it. As my husband rationalized, actually you need to use it only once because once you've used it for a day and know the route that allowed you to take 10k steps, then you can simply repeat it day by day. There was a watch that measure heart beat or pulse rate. Too expensive at P5k more or less, so we didn't get that either.

In front of Tokyo Tokyo, Sony had a display of various products, among them Vaios. There was a pink one! SRP is P79k but until tomorrow, display units may be bought at 30% off or for P48k. What a bargain. But wait, a display unit? Remember our Godin experience? I failed to ask if the said units carried a warranty.

Rustan's has a new section on the ground floor: GAP clothes for babies, teens and thin adults. The ladies' sizes are very small, the gentlemen's reach up to 40 inch pants. But some styles cost P4k. A garrison belt costs P1250. Socks cost P900 plus for a set of three. There was one type of sock that sold for close to P500 each. Too expensive.

At the Cook's Exchange portion of Crossings which shares space with the grocery of Crossings, we looked at the many kitchen aids available. Very nice but expensive. In the grocery we bought Lipton Tea Milk which my son said is good.

The fifth floor of Shangrila has a portion that connects to the fourth floor of Rustan's via an escalator. It is Rustan's sale items outlet. My son got 2 Oleg Cassini shirts for just P400 each. I got long tongs (for flipping the meat) for P395, down a hundred. there were several kitchen items available as there were Acca kappa lotions (P795, down P200), Nars makeup, some blouses, etc. Nice notebooks too. My husband showed me a Culture Log which compartmentalizes one's life into Shopping, Entertainment, etc. Minutes later, my son handed it to me and said, "ma, get this for yourself." My husband laughed at the coincidence. Both he and my son thought it was just up my alley. wrong, I said, there wasn't enough space for keeping a shopping log. One entry in this log read "where first seen". Imagine that. How detailed.

Oh, and by the way, are you aware that "Yellow is the new black." In the past years brown was the new black, then whatever else. what a way of expressing transitions/transformations.

A Search in Futility

2008-05-21T18:34:00.000-07:00

My husband is on retreat now, he'll be back tomorrow. My son is leaving in a while to do his group project in a friend's house. I'm bored, or yesterday, I thought I'd be bored. But here I am, now blogging, not at all bored. I'll read the papers, the book Rich Dad, Poor Dad per a recommendation of a rich friend and a nephew on his way to being big. I'll watch TV and play Spider Solitaire or TextTwist online.

Yesterday, I thought hard whether I should hire the Wheelmobile and go to a mall. In no particular order, I called a friend who said yes immediately, only to text a few minutes later after recalling her mom's attendant was going to have her day off. I texted a cousin who weeks back said she might be in Manila. I was hoping that serendipitously she's now here. Sadly, she's in Bacolod, down with the flu. I was thinking of another friend but wondered whether she'd have time off from her yoga class (she's perpetually in yoga class, may guwapo ba dun? hahaha) but before I could even text her, she called to say she's leaving for Davao. Does she have ESP?

I deliberated about canceling the Wheelmobile or simply going on with it. But I also wondered: where will I go and with whom? Maid B? But she prattles and being with her the whole time, the mere thought made me feel tired. Get Ex-maid? Yes, except that I'd have to pay her for keeping me company plus she might be with me starting June if Maid B makes good her threat to leave. Where to go? Which mall? I looked at my things to do/buy and they weren't much. They didn't justify spending on the Wheelmobile. Watch Ploning? If only it were showing in Greenhills or Power Plant, I'd have proceeded with the Wheelmobile. But it's only showing in Gateway where we once watched a movie from the front row, the only place accessible to someone in a wheelchair.

So I canceled the Wheelmobile appointment. Money saved from doing so I used to buy sugpo . Other imagined savings from refraining from going out will go to my ninang gown, hairstyle and makeup, and present seed fund. The cloth of the gown has been sent me. See? It's reversible. This is one side: , this is another:
I wonder what Mia Urquico of Mico will choose as the color. Guess which I prefer.

Wedding Ninang 2

2008-05-18T20:37:00.000-07:00

So this is how it feels to be asked again, ambivalent. It's touching that one is thought worthy to be a wedding sponsor but the more mundane issues involved in being one are mind-boggling: what to wear, who'll do the makeup, what to give. It's no wonder that a friend who was asked to be ninang accepted but didn't attend the ceremony. She didn't even send a proxy.

I don't want to do that because the couple about to be wedded is special to me, but what about the details? For one, I'll have to TRY to lose weight. TRY is the operative word there. Whether I'll succeed is another matter. is it bad to be fat and be a wedding ninang? I've seen pictures in the papers of obese wedding sponsors, may I be one of them? No, not in the papers, but just fat and a wedding sponsor.

At least I know where I'll have my gown/get-up made. And I won't buy new sandals, neither a new bag. And I'll borrow my sister's jewelry again - she doesn't know it yet. Hahahaha. In such instances, how I wish I were male. Then I could just wear one of my old barongs, black pants, black shoes, black socks, right? Why is the world so unfair?

pressure.

Blind Item

2008-05-16T00:30:00.000-07:00

I was watching either SIS, Moms, or The Sweet Life when this socialite with so many pretty children (all grown-up and married except for one) was a guest. I think it was in The Sweet Life. She talked about how to dress up, how to use accessories, how to have different looks using the same basic blouse and pants or skirt by simply adding a scarf, etc. Fine. I enjoyed that.

But there was one thing she said that shocked, shook and amused me. She said that girls, if they are intelligent, should not show off their intelligence when they are with men, or something to that effect. I'm not sure if she said it was unfeminine but really, in this age, are we still supposed to behave like we are dumb just so the egos of the men are not crushed? I found the idea a bit outrageous, anachronistic, old-fashioned, preposterous, wrong. I mean whatever for?

Now I'll bet you can guess who she is. She's really pretty and was one of Harper's most beautiful in the sixties. She was formerly governor of a province, has a PhD or something, is interested in our Muslim brothers, was rumored to be .... never mind. hahaha. Her nickname consists of eight letters, two syllables, the second a repetition of the first.

But wait, do you agree with her? I might be presuming no one else does. Again, mwahahaha for my being so presumptuous.

She sometimes puts one of this on her hair

Maid B - a funny episode

2008-05-15T22:43:00.000-07:00

As the rains assaulted the grounds and caused power to fluctuate, effecting a brief brownout even, I buzzed for Maid B so she could unplug the aircon, the TV and this laptop. I called once, she didn't come. I called another time, she still didn't come. Meanwhile, the power was doing a Christmas lights act: flicker on, flicker off, not exactly a good thing for appliances. So I called her a third time.

Lo and behold she barged into the room, face angry, saying aloud, "naga todo pa to ulan sa sagwa" (it's raining hard outside) -- as if I didn't know. Then I said, "nga-a ano gina himo niyo?" (why, what are you doing?") I was expecting her to answer that they were gathering the laundry, scooping the water from the sala or something. Instead, she answered, "wala man a." (Nothing). hahaha. i wanted to comment, "I thought you were catching the rain or staving off the winds". I wanted to say, "te nga-a akig ka?" (so why are you angry). But I didn't because then she'd have had an opportunity to emote. I merely kept quiet and so did she.

See? She just wants to be antagonistic, ferocious, fight! hahahaha. All her acting prowess for nothing. I didn't take umbrage even as I wanted to be sarcastic. What for? Got her there. Silly.

Couch Potato - That's Me

2008-05-14T16:38:00.000-07:00

With nothing much to do these days, I sometimes wind up surfing channels, reading old newspapers or reading a graphic novel: Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. Surprised? I am too. It happened one day that I was in the sala waiting for my husband and son to be ready so we could leave. Rather than stare at the walls, I picked up the said book lying on the keyboard of my son. I read a few boxes (it's like cartoons in book form ) and liked what I read. I'm more than halfway through. Besides the book is being made into a movie, one I'm sure we'll watch. it's well written. My son's advice: look at the graphics too. I guess he knows that adults usually read words only, haha.

Now to my couch potato experiences.

I usually start my morning TV watching with Unang Hirit. But sometimes, the news depresses me so I turn the TV off. Yesterday, I switched to She-ka but Issa Litton was interviewing some ladies in the military and I wasn't too engrossed so I again turned the TV off. A little later, I channel surfed and stopped when I saw a feature on the cartoons for the Beijing Olympics on CCTV. I guess that's China TV, no? The feature was annotated in English though, and it was very informative. It showed how the final issue of the cartoons went through a long and rigorous process that began years ago; how the mascots were chosen, how grade school students were made to see them without being told what they were for, what each mascot stood for, why the colors were chosen, in addition to the Olympic colors . Comprehensive.

Later I saw a snippet of May Lee's Faces and Places (sorry I failed to take note of the channel - it's Hallmark) and she was interviewing Philip David Henney. Who he? Well, the face was familiar to me because I saw him in Spring Waltz, a Korean telenovela. In a previous blog, I wrote about the said televonela and may even described him without a name, as usual. PDH is a Korean American who grew up in Michigan, hence his English proficiency. In the telenovela, he also spoke German. A video clip of him and his Korean mom was shown and I was impressed. The mom is short and very Korean but according to PDH, when he had to contend with racism as he was growing up in an American school, she took on the bullies. May Lee mentioned that PDH had appeared in various commercials like Samsung so I checked it out in YouTube. Wow, I saw that he even had a commercial with no less than Gwyneth Paltrow for Bean Pole. Imagine that.

By noon, as I prepared to eat lunch, I tuned in to Edu's show, Game Ka na Ba? One of the contestants was Lynn Jaleco, from my hometown, Talisay City, Negross Occidental. Not familiar to me, but not having been home in a while, that's not unusual. Had Eat Bulaga for lunch viewing but stopped when I decided to surf in the computer. In the pm, I turned on to Kapuso Network. Caught the tail-end of Magdusa Ka. Wow, everyone was screaming, fighting, hurting each other. Whew, luckily, I thought, I caught only the tail-end. Then the next teledrama rolled in. Kaputol ng Isang Awit. More of the same: screaming, meanness, fighting, hurting each other, giving each other the one eyebrow arch. They weren't kaputol, they were kadugtong. It was just so awful. I turned the TV off. At around 5 past, I switched on the TV to catch Moms. It was ok, but not earth-shaking unlike the other day when they featured parents of special children, among them Matt Ranillo, Melanie Marquez, and a non-showbiz (at least I didn't think she was) lady, Angel. Matt's youngest is harelip and he described how he felt when he first saw her with a gaping hole instead of a nose and mouth but how his wife said "ang ganda ng mata niya". Melanie has two special children: a teen or older, and a young boy. I can't remember what was wrong with Angel's child. Matt was very frank, expressing what I have long said, how mean some adults and children can be when faced with a disabled/special child/adult. He appealed for kindness. Melanie said she didn't blame God for her woes, saying maybe there was something wrong she did, not in the sense that they were punishments but she mentioned a chemical. I couldn't really fathom what she meant. I guess I wasn't listening well enough. That afternoon the hosts, Manilyn, Lani and Sherilyn were very sympathetic and tearful without going overboard. They weren't hysterical sad but were apparently affected. Manilyn didn't move her neck too much at the end of the show. Oh yes, I can't remember which afternoon now, but one afternoon, the guests of Moms were Rey Valera, Hajji Alejandro and Rico Puno. Rico is the most uncouth and green, Hajji and Rey are gentlemen. I could sense how Sherilyn didn't like RIco's jokes. She was uber dry. Good for her. I think I'd act the way she did too if Rico were cracking such indecent jokes in my face.

To go on, yesterday, after Moms, American Idol was next. I wasn't watching, the TV was just on giving me peripheral noise. Then A Sweet Life followed. I like the pair of Lucy and Wilma. They're perfect foils for each other. Among their guests were 3 young men who're with the Kapuso network for one telenovela/teledrama or something. They tested what scents appealed more to men: the traditional (fruity/flowery) or the food scents (vanilla, chocolate, cinnamon, etc). The men were blindfolded as two girls each wearing a different scent paused in front of them so they could smell. The girls were then made to sit on the side.

The verdict: they liked the food scents better. I still find it queer why the following was then done. Asked to look at the girls, they were asked whom they thought wore the scent they preferred. Now the two girls were like Wilma and Lucy: fair and dark, but not Wilma dark. I found the darker girl more attractive, but I guess men really look at skin color and prefer the fairer ones. SO they said they believed it was the girl with the fairer complexion who wore the scent they preferred. Of course they were wrong. Then Lucy summarized the portion by saying that looks can deceive. For me the conclusion was, huh? I really found that portion not well processed. Pilit.

The duo then began to talk about thinning hair, featuring one older woman and a young lady suffering from the problem. They consulted a beauty salon owner and a derma for this episode. The former said the problem can be addressed by extensions (they were called wigs during our time) and volumizing shampoo, while the latter said guess what? A derma should evaluate the cause of the thinning hair: hereditary, normal (with age?), etc. Okay, point taken.

I can't remember which preceded what, the project portion or Wilma's forte: teaching two young ladies how to walk down the catwalk wearing a jacket, removing it, and holding it as one walks back. Wilma apparently knows her craft. She is such an expert on the matter. really. Oh, and by the way, in the portion with the three men earlier, they spoke about that "one night" when one commits a mistake (having sex with one's date/boyfriend). Wilma said "huwag" because she's been there, done that. But she has two children by two separate men. I guess like Lucy said, when one does it with a boyfriend, one hopes he'll be the last and maybe that's why Wilma did it a second time with a different man in the hope he'd be the last? I hope she has really learned her lesson and stops there.

Sorry this blog seems to be skipping and hopping but here's yet another seemingly unrelated topic. Last week, my husband and I saw the first episode of Pushing Daisies
on ETC channel. There was this man who when he touched someone who had died brought that person back to life but who'd die if he touched her again. This was cute. Among his victims were his mom (she died again because she was the first who was subjected unwittingly to his gift) and his high school crush. This week, my husband watched the second but he looked bored. I didn't watch myself because I thought what else could happen? Such a skill would be good for one movie or one episode, but several? How far can you stretch it? True enough, my husband said, the episode was no longer as appealing. Oh well, I guess the show will last a season at the most?

Years back, my son and I watched the movie The Stupids.. That was funny. If they had made that into a series, however, it wouldn't have lasted.

Now I remember the topic of Moms yesterday: bonding with children. Guests were Chiqui Roa Puno and Melissa Mendez, and a psychologist. Not bad, but not that engrossing.

Oh yes, I also watched Free of Eden starring Sidney Poitier and his daughter, I think. As SP vowed, he would only make movies with a message and this one had several, among them the importance of education, breaking oneself free of the shackles of destiny or the confining situation of one's birth, standing for the truth.

Happy Mom's Day to whomever the greeting may apply

2008-05-10T23:39:00.000-07:00

Received the following in an email from a father:

What Is a Mother?
A mother can be almost any size or any age, but she won't admit to anything over thirty.
A mother has soft hands and smells good.
A mother likes new dresses, music, a clean house, her children's kisses, an automatic washer and Daddy.
A mother doesn't like having her children sick, muddy feet, temper tantrums, loud noise or bad report cards.
A mother can read a thermometer (much to the amazement of Daddy) and like magic, can kiss a hurt away.
A mother can bake good cakes and pies but likes to see her children eat vegetables.
A mother can stuff a fat baby into a snowsuit in seconds and can kiss sad little faces and make them smile.
A mother is underpaid, has long hours and gets very little rest. She worries too much about her children but she says she doesn't mind at all.
And no matter how old her children are, she still likes to think of them as her little babies.
She is the guardian angel of the family, the queen, the tender hand of love.
A mother is the best friend anyone ever had.
A mother is love.

It's that time of year again...

2008-05-09T18:30:00.000-07:00

No, not Christmas; no not summer. So what? Negotiation time. Every year almost, without fail, Maids A and B come up with a story so I'll have no choice but to increase their salaries. There was one time it was Maid B who was being pirated. Then Maid A. (Two separate years). And of course, the pay being offered would be higher, they said. Then Maid B said she wanted to go back to the province to rest. Another year she wanted to rest at her brother's here in Litex (near Payatas), Quezon City. One time Maid A told me that Maid B wanted a salary P500 higher than Maid A's for her medications: Alaxan galore and other liniments, Salonpas, etc. Every time she feels an ache, she resorts to either of the options or all. How ironic that only today, I read in Philippine Star how the owner of Muebles Italiano said his mother would tell him "ang pagod, itulog mo lang yan, kinabukasan wala na yan" or something to the effect. Oh well...

So this a.m., Maid A came in. She's the perpetual designated spokesman. Maid B told her she's thinking of taking time off at her brother's in Litex so she could rest. This time I will not be cowed (I hope). I'll just ask my ex-maid who lives nearby to come on a daily basis. Ex-maid is so much more pleasant except that she has a family so she cannot stay in. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers.

We'll see.

Shorts on Some Personalities

2008-05-09T16:48:00.000-07:00

One evening while we were in Power Plant, I saw Apples Aberin Sadhwani. She walked past us. Then I saw her walk from behind. She has a cute gait. She was in flats and she walked with a slight bounce that was very feminine. I don't know if that showed how models walk in flats or that was a model's typical walk down the ramp. But it was cute. So very feminine. She looked better with just the right amount of makeup then when I see some of her pictures in the papers or magazines. Apples writes for the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

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Was reading a back issue of People Magazine and one of the featured personalities was Roy Cosico, MD. He's affiliated with Medicins sans Frontieres and is assigned to Africa. He acknowledged the curiosity of people - why Africa, why not the Philippines? His argument: medically, Africa is worse of than the PHilippines. In Africa, the ratio is 1 doctor per a million people. He mentioned that occasionally, he calls a colleague here in the Philippines for advice on the treatment of cases. Hats off to him. (Does he earn less doing volunteer work or this kind of work? I guess so and how noble of him.)

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Dawn Zulueta in Proudly Filipina. last night, I watched Charlene's show where Dawn was asked about being a beauty icon. She said something to the effect, thank you but do you know that puts added pressure on me especially as I become older? She also mentioned how it was such a difficult time she had in the first eight years of her marriage when people kept asking about whether she had a baby already. Many years ago, we had college friends who were similarly situated. I could see their sadness each time anyone asked because they had married earlier than I and I was pregnant that time. From then on, I decided not to ask them whether a baby was coming. Some two years later, finally they had one.

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The same holds true for single ladies/men. I particularly noted this where a niece was concerned. I have stopped asking her when she was getting married. That's meddling, I have come to realize.

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There's this young actress whom I have caught twice on TV saying, "My parents have brought me up well". Gosh, can't she wait for someone to give her that compliment? Methinks she's wrong. She's a tad conceited. Years back, an international beauty titlist, Filipina too, kept saying too that she exuded a certain class that's why she won the title. She comes from a rich family. hahaha. Blind items. I should do this more often. Then years from now, I might not remember the answers myself.

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Issa LItton. Caught her in She... ka (pun for chika?) last Thursday. That was the latter portion and she was interviewing guests who were cooking (I don't know yet if that's what the entire show is about). She ... ka is from 8 to 9 every morning, Mondays to Fridays on NBN - Channel 4 in Metro Manila. She was very engaging if a bit over talkative but I wasn't irked. Actually I didn't know her name initially but thought I heard "Issa" towards the end of the show. So I surfed the Net and true enough, her name's Issa Litton. I had heard her name before but I thought she was a model period. Apparently she has hosting skills as well.

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Another charmer on TV is Rosebud Benitez. Originally part of Ka-Toque, she now has her own show, Quick Fire, where she dishes out recipes in ten-minute stretches, three times a day weekdays, and twice a day weekends, before the more popular shows of QTV are shown, e.g., The Sweet Life, Balitanghali, etc. Among the Ka-Toque chefs, she actually stood out because of her nice smile and very feminine ways. She wasn't as noisy as the male chefs and exuded more confidence than the other female chef, who is charming nonetheless and could be your neighbor or friend. Rosebud's recipes are simple and easy to do. I haven't tried doing any yet, but one of these days I will. If the dish comes out well, I'll share it with you.

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Dennis Trillo. In an old issue of People Magazine, he was one of the featured gentlemen. But being very quiet, the article focused mostly on an interview with his manager, Popoy Caratativo (or sounds like anyway). Among other things, Popoy maintained that Dennis doesn't consider himself handsome. He knows how he looks but doesn't consider himself handsome. I think this may be true because he continues to be serious and quiet rather than flamboyant or gregarious.

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What's with the Internet these days? A lot of the time it doesn't work or is too slow. We're subscribed to PLDT DSL. What about you? darn.

Additional Lessons for My Maids

2008-05-09T16:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was so bored I decided to cook dinner. At one point Maid A said she'd fry the chicken for me. Fine. When she was done she asked whIch way she ought to turn the knob of the electric stove. I said "Left" and for good measure, I said "sa wala Ilonggo for left). She turned it to the right. A little later the same thing. So aside from colors and numbers, I have to teach them which is their right and which their left.

Just a few minutes ago, I asked Maid C for the "mas damol" (Ilonggo for thicker) folder. There are two folders where I file my bills. She gave me the thinner one. SO I also need to teach them the difference between thick and thin. Sometimes, I wonder if they're really mentally challenged or just too lazy to think, are not listening or are out to irk me.

What do you think?

Psychologists - Do they know everything?

2008-05-06T22:42:00.000-07:00

Listen to a psychologist. If you do, chances are you'll begin to think that people can be segregated into different, clear cut boxes. People are either autistic, schizoid, depressed, bi-polar, etc. To what extent should we believe what they have to say? To what extent should we allow their ideas to affect us? To what extent do they have accurate views? Are these true facts or mere opinions?

This morning, when I watched Sis briefly on GMA 7, Jaya (the singer), a mother herself, said "you know what's best for your child. Do not believe everything other people say." Though she didn't explicitly point to any one group or person, I presume she was alluding to child experts/psychologists who write volumes upon volumes of books on child rearing, childhood problems and the like.

I tend to believe in what Jaya had to say. I subscribe to her notion. More than anyone else, a mother knows her child, what's best for him/her. Most mothers see their children as distinct individuals with distinct needs, wants, traits and treat them accordingly. How much more correct can these mothers be, never mind if they defy the norms set by psychologists?

I know quite a few of them who have problem children or problems with their children. They are as human as the rest of us non-psychologists. They have flaws, commit errors. But they can be so judgmental and think they know everything. Go Jaya! Carmina apparently agreed with Jaya as she vigorously nodded her head following Jaya's expression of her ideas.

My maids again!

2008-05-06T05:50:00.000-07:00

A cousin has described them to be "from hell" and I'm beginning to believe her. In the blog immediately preceding this, I wrote that I was out in the sala so the maids could clean the bedroom thoroughly. Tonight, when I glanced at the shelves beside the bed, I saw that the books weren't rearranged -- a sure sign the shelves weren't cleaned. So I called Maid B. She said she didn't clean them. I called Maid C. She said the table was cleaned. I said yes, this morning, not this afternoon. I called Maid C. She said they just swept the floor. Darn, darn, darn. And a few months from now they'll expect their usual annual salary increase? I'm so peeved. They just chose what to clean and they chose to clean only the floor. My goodness gracious. What a set of maids I have! if it weren't for the beautiful moments with my son in the sala, the afternoon would there would have been an utter waste. Darn!

My other blog

2008-05-06T01:26:00.000-07:00

or as my favorite cousin, Mama's side puts it, MOB. I started one last week. Wala lang. I was surfing the Net and saw some blogs written in WordPress and they looked interesting. Way back, my cousin also told me about WordPress but I didn't have as much time then as I do now (too much in fact, now) to explore stuff. So finally I did. My other blog's name is derdo.wordpress.com (click here to access it). Unlike this blog which only my chosen few access except for Mar Roxas' admirer and the occasional boleros who just want to advertise by commenting, the wordpress blog has received some hits. The only one who knew about it was Chona and she couldn't have accessed it that much. It's fun looking at the number of views made, actually. It leads me to wonder who accessed my site. No way of knowing, actually, unlike in multiply where I also have a site: antoinelepelican.multiply.com or click here This one you're reading though will be my most private. Though I imported a good number of the entries from this blog to wordpress, I deleted those that were too passionate, too personal. So basically what MOB contains are entries that will hopefully enlighten people re certain places, purchases, etc.

Presently, I am in the sala blogging. A rare experience actually, one which afforded me the chance to hear my son playing his keyboard for hours. You see I had the aircon in the room undergo general cleaning (c/o VIREX, which I believe has a branch in Bacolod) and to take advantage of the disarray which that undertaking results in, I had the maid clean up the room thereafter. Which meant, I had to move to the sala where I made a key lime pie following one of the recipes I found in the Net, Lina, and while it didn't exactly taste like the one in Mamou, it's edible. I'll let husband taste it later and hear what he has tot say. Anyway, it was while I was making the pie in the sala when my son came in from his walk back home from school. And so he stayed on in the sala and played the keyboard cum piano. Some pieces were familiar, some his own creations. A friend asked him to play the piano for the debut of his girlfriend's sister soon. Now son is beside me, doing stuff in his laptop. Most likely he's surfing, but I don't want to peek.

Earlier too he showed me something he bought from an Aeta in front of National Bookstore in Katipunan. I'll take its picture. Darn the picture didn't look good. I tried to take it with the videocam. Later again. Anyway, it's a bamboo thing that the Aeta was selling. It could make bird-like sounds. My son got one for P70 and the Aeta taught him how to use it. Fill the receptacle with water up to a certain level, blow into the tube, etc. It's like a flute that looks like a pitcher with a spout. Or like a pipe. So I heard my son make birdlike sounds using this too. It has nice art work, besides: . What a nice afternoon I'm having all because of the aircon cleaners.

We ordered McDo burgers: he a double cheeseburger meal go big time, me a cheesburger meal. I used a coupon he brought home from a friend so his go big time aspect didn't require our paying additional. Funny cause I as asked the operator who took my order for some coupons and when the delivery boy came, he handed over a whole stack, maybe an inch and a half high. We'd need a decade to finish all these except that it's expiring May 31. Maybe, that's why he gave so many.

Will post the picture of the bird thing later, promise.

Marriage, Money and Morals

2008-05-02T22:17:00.000-07:00

The sequence of the words in the title of this post is random. Because I really am not sure under what sequence they should fall. But what drove me to think of writing about the 3M's? Eat Bulaga. I am an unabashed fan of the noontime TV show because the wit and camaraderie of the hosts perk me up when I have lunch by myself. Actually after I'm done eating, I can turn the TV off and just blog away or play Spider Solitaire.

So how and why did EB drive me to write about the 3M's?

I think in a previous blog, I wrote that a good number of participants in the show's various contests are single moms. Once in a while when the hosts probe deeper, they find out why. Months ago, when Joey interviewed one such contestant, she explained her predicament thus: "Na ano lang." So whenever Joey would find out a contestant was a single mom, he'd tease, "Biyuda ka ba, hiwalay o na ano lang?" Just a few weeks back, he increased the show's "lingo" by saying that there's the woman na "na ano lang" (and then broke off) and there's the woman na "nag-aanuhan sa di ka anu-ano" -- euphemism to living in.

A few minutes ago, they asked a contestant about her husband or something and she brazenly said "live in lang kami." And for a while, Joey said "libing"? But then he also turned serious and asked, "bakit di kayo nagpapakasal?" The woman answered, "Walang pera." Another contestant offered the same reason. She was on the same boat.

This is where the title of this post comes in. The issue is a matter of the 3Ms: it is a sociological issue as well as a moral issue. They claim they don't have money so they don't get married but in truth and in fact, by living in, they are living like married couples and have the same expenses as married couples have. So where lies the money issue?

Filipinos including those who fall within the lower/lowest category of the economic strata equate marriage with a wedding, as lavish as they could afford, complete with a wedding gown, lechon, the works. Which is why they say they don't have the money to get married. Wrong, they don't have money to spend for a wedding with all the works they imagine a wedding should have. so there.

Sad no?

My guests, beware

2008-04-29T22:12:00.000-07:00

When you visit me in my house, be ready for the following:

from Maid A: That she'll get something for your plate to hand to me. Minutes ago, my husband and I were having lunch. I asked her for a knife. Holding the knife on my husband's plate, she said, "kuya, gagamitin mo to?" When my husband said "no," she got it and handed it to me. I asked her "wala na ta kutsilyo?" She facetiously answered "may ara pa. indi niya man pag-usaron." I asked my husband if he had laid the knife on the table. He said it was on his plate. Good heavens. I told Maid A to refrain from doing that when I have guests, or even with my husband and son. Will she obey? Remains to be seen. She habitually disobeys me, like she returns from market on her market day after lunch time, so I have to order. she takes forever to cook food so sometimes we have breakfast ready at 8, lunch at 1, dinner at 8. hayyyyyy. My wrinkles and grey hair are mostly because of her.

from Maid B: A hello, a loud hello, rather than a meek good morning/afternoon/good evening. And side comments.

from Maid C: If she knows you're single, she might ask if you have a boyfriend. Or if she sees you on the road, she'll ask where you're going. My cousin's wife laughingly told me this once. She was standing near their condo waiting for her husband when Maid C charmingly/brazenly asked her this.

hay naku.

So be warned. Though I correct them, it doesn't follow that they learn.

Re Maid B:
One time, I asked for my bottle of perfume. I said the one in the white bottle. Maid B said, "eto?" I said, "white!"

She then opened the drawer, showed me this and asked, "eto?" Promise she did.

Then finally, she showed me the right white bottle: this.

Sa wakas. I don't know if there's a hardware problem besetting the three or what! because though they have doorbell codes (Maid A -4, Maid B -2 and Maid C 3), a lot of the time, when I blow the horn twice or four times, it's the youngest, Maid C who comes. So as you can see, they have a lot to learn: counting and colors for starters. Manners for another.

Mamou

2008-04-26T16:09:00.000-07:00

Finally, stepped into Mamou, a restaurant with one of the most gracious managers (Annie) and waiters. Later, we met the chef, nay "I prefer to call myself a cook" named Malou who was pretty as she was warm and charming.

Among the entrees recommended strongly was steak but at more than P1500 for a serving good for 2 or 3, I thought not. It being our first visit, I wanted to try as wide a range of dishes as possible.

My best friend (thanks for sending the pictures) ordered linguini with vongole, I decided on roast chicken and pork served with red rice
. As my husband was not with us when we ordered and I was famished, I thought of ordering one of his favorite dishes: fish and chips
, another recommendation of the waiter. In fact, everything we ordered was in their list of best-sellers. Was this enough? I asked our waiter and he nodded.

While waiting for our food, we were served 6 buns of 2 different kinds in a red basket taken in in the corner (I think a child's game with a hanky can produce the same result, if I remember correctly). One variety was the sourdough, the other was whole wheat so they looked good together: very dark brown bread and an almost white one. My husband liked them very much.

Then our orders came.

I could see my husband wasn't too enthused. I guess a wife of almost 20 years just knows. But personally, I liked the roast chicken and pork combination that came with black beans and rice served on one plate. Except that the chicken and the pork slices were rather small, so one could only eat so much, or make that so little, of each. Imagine this: the upper thigh of a not too robust chicken and a tiny pork chop, bone-in. The pasta was okay but the clams were rather spare and tiny. Cyma is more generous in putting in clams in their angel hair pasta. The fish and chips: there were 3 strips of fish, not as big as Fish and Co nor Chelsea but not finger-sized either, maybe a giant's finger, and 3 potato wedges. This was served with a slice of citrus (can't remember which kind). Midway through, I asked my husband if he thought we should add a dish and he nodded vigorously. Called the waiter who suggested the lamb dish. Now lamb is either tough or tender, but more often than not, tough, so I thought not. But the even bigger deciding factor against it was its price: P1300 per order I think. (the dishes we had ordered originally were in the "under P500" range). So I asked for another suggestion, the waiter said the duck flakes were good. Ordered that. This was served in a bowl, like rice toppings. The red rice was under and topped with duck flakes and scrambled egg (which I had chosen over fried so we could more or less share the thing. Had I chosen fried, one might get more of the yolk or white.) Earlier had also ordered an extra bowl of the red rice. Yummy.

Husband found the duck entree a bit odd tasting (he said maybe he wasn't used to duck), but I thought it was all right. In fact he found most of the dishes bland except for the roast chicken, everything was okay with me except for the pasta because of the paucity of clams.

Being a sucker for desserts, when we were done with the main dishes, we decided to order. After all, no matter how full one is, "there's always room for dessert" as one cook show host cum chef says.

Malou was talking to us then so we asked her for suggestions. She said people usually ordered the pecan and the key lime pie. She said their desserts were for sharing. I don't know now whether she meant one dessert only for the 3 of us but I thought of ordering 2. (My apologies to my companions but I completely decided on which to order so that Malou also said "what do they think?" pointing to my husband and best friend. Bad manners ko no?) Anyway, the suggestion of a pecan pie was quickly taken but lime pie, I'm not exactly for sour (she said "tart") desserts so I asked what other suggestions she had. She mentioned the chocolate sans rival, gelato etc. I was about to say "sans rival" but she more or less insisted we should try the lime pie. I looked at husband and friend, they nodded. And I'm glad we listened to Malou.

When the desserts came, the pecan pie looked forbidding. Very dark brown. Dense. The lime pie looked like a young lady, an ingenue - dainty and fresh, inviting, sweet. It was the lightest shade of green, almost light yellow and it looked so soft. Wow, one bite was like heaven -- very cool and just right for the hot summer night. The pecan pie was heavy but it tasted very good too in a graham crust.

Will we go back to Mamou? With its smiling waiters, manager and cook, and the key lime pie, I don't see why not. Oh, but I guess, husband will take some convincing.

The place was full, there was no empty table and everyone seemed to be having a good time. One had to raise one's voice, or at least I did, to be heard in conversation.

Should I make it a habit to rate restos with stars or spoons as others do? Hmmm, that's an idea. Maybe another time.

Or should I start with this?

Okay on a scale of 1 to 5:

Service - 5 spoons
Food - 3 spoons
Dessert - 5 spoons

Suggestions for improvement: improve acoustics, so people can hear their companions in the table without much effort on either the speaker or the listener's part?

A subtitle of Mamou's is "A home kitchen". Malou herself said the resto used her "home recipes".

If my best friend emails me her feedback on Mamou, I shall post it here. Or maybe, you can comment below? I'll also use the pictures she took.

I almost forgot: with the duck dish was served a small dipping saucer containing "betel nut" achara, or pickled betel nut. I asked the waiter, you mean "nga-nga"? (In ilonggo its' mama (accent on the second syllable). he said not, it was something from palay. It so looked like ginger I didn't try it. Neither did my friend. My husband was brave enough to take a portion and said it was bland. That was his favorite word last night.

Maid C and the Americana of my son

2008-04-26T01:51:00.000-07:00

At Taal Vista, I woke up at 3 a.m. and couldn't sleep. Luckily, the May issue of Yes magazine was right beside me so I decided to look at it. Ok, I read it through. The issue was entertaining, particularly the story of Carmina, Zoren, Mavy and Cassy. Gretchen - hasn't everything been written about her yet? An overall good issue.

Then I saw the rack of clothes of Carmina and Zoren. The hangers were wooden and heavy-duty. At 4 a.m. I remembered my son's Americana and suddenly became listless. I remembered his using it end March and worried (so what else is new?) that it had been sent for dry cleaning but hadn't been claimed. My goodness, the dry cleaning company might have sequestered it, I worried/fretted. I couldn't wait for 6 a.m. so I could text the maid back home. While we had a maid with us, she's always clueless about many things, or gives answers that seem to indicate she is clueless when in fact... but never mind, this is about Maid C.

When it was decent, I texted the maid back home. I nearly fainted. Maid C hand washed the Americana of my son. True it was made two years ago but it didn't come cheap. In fact, we had it altered only February and paid quite a sum for the alteration. It was still usable.

When I asked Maid B who was with us if she'd seen Maid C wash it, she said no. What about when she ironed it, I asked. Do you think I got a different answer? Of course not. She was consistent: No. I was angry, I cried a bit out of sheer frustration. The house is not big so why didn't the other maids see Maid C wash the americana? My husband said, "Impossible". The 3 maids being relatives, they connive/are partners in "crime". Hayy. And to think Maid C cannot even iron our shirts properly.

When we got home, I immediately asked to see the americana and while it appeared no damage had been done, the ironing, as expected, was sloppy. Hayyyyyyyyyyy.

To think that I asked her to have the ties of my son dry cleaned. In the past, she had brought that coat to the dry cleaner and she claims she forgot that standard procedure. Hayyyyyyyy.

Taal Vista Hotel and Peninsula de Punta Fuego

2008-04-26T01:23:00.000-07:00

What a blissful feeling getting into the Royal Suite of Taal Vista Hotel gave. The huge window gave such a good view of the expanse beyond Taal Volcano that we were flabbergasted. And of course, the weather was so pleasantly cold I didn't want to go home!

In the pm, as my son who drove all throughout the trip dozed off, exhausted from a late night of practice, doing his homework and class from 7:30 to 10:30 a.m., I decided to order pancit canton and crispy tawilis room service. Realy, really yummy. Lots of seafood and meat, vegetables too. The tawilis was apparently fresh. I wanted to get a second serving but thought my son might want to eat it when he woke up, but he didn't. As we were to have dinner in the coffee shop, the maid who had some of it too for merienda finished it off along with a KFC meal for dinner. Lucky for her. Here she is appreciating the view from the ridge.

Here's a picture of Tagaytay as the night was about to set in:

The Japanese buffet was extensive in terms of choices but wasn't too exciting. The rice was curried, I think. But the watermelon was oh so sweet. There were the usual choices: sashimi, sushi, miso soup, tempura (chicken, beef, fish, shrimp, vegetables and squid). I didn't take any of the other meat dishes like the Japanese beef curry, a chicken dish, a fish dish. Thankfully, the dessert was magnificent especially the midnight madness (a chocolate-mocha cake with a sponge layer at the bottom) and the pistachio cake. The coconut cake was all right, but the Christmas red and green balls and the white ball were lousy, even if the latter had mongo paste in it. They must have been for diabetics or the chef forgot to put in enough sugar.

The waiter was solicitous and made up for the lackluster food.

The buffet breakfast that came free was a let-down. The cold cuts were not 5-star in quality, and you should have seen the tocino. I hate my camera for not showing the truth. While in person the tocino looked dry, the picture I took showed it to have some oil. What a lie. Here's the picture of the scraggly tocino which actualy looks edible here: The bacon was crispy as expected, but there were no sausages or longganisa. There was tuna, egg omelette, corned beef with potato cubes (think corned beef hash ), chicken adobo. Lots of fruit choices: watermelon (not sweet), peaches, pineapple, banana (senorita variety), papaya.

Juices were available as were coffee, tea and hot chocolate. Waiters were cordial, sadly the food was not yet again 5-star.

Currently the hotel is building a new structure to increase the number of guest rooms and function rooms. Good for them. Hopefully, they'll lower the rates. Dreaming? Wistful? I guess that's me.

Ambience in the existing hotel is tops, so is comfort. Wheelchair accessibility was apparent. I think Henry Sy is very considerate of the disabled. Thanks, Mr. Sy.

They should do something about the food, though, and fast. The chef was an expat who smiled when he saw us. Nice of him to do that.

&&&&&&&&&&

Peninsula de Punta Fuego. Wow. Wow. Wow. The guards at the gate were snooty (reminiscent of the guards in Corinthian who remind me of the Gestapo), all of them wearing shades. But once you get past them, heaven. Wonder if St. Peter looks as forbidding. Hi, St. Peter.

Anyway, the houses are not too close to each other the way they are in subdivisions, even of the rich in Metro Manila, where the roofs almost reach the wall so that if there's a fire, chances are fire will transfer to the neighbor's house.

Anyway, at Punta Fuego, the houses are differently designed and come in different sizes, really beautiful. (I think most had three stories. )And the view is simply breath-taking. It is, after all a peninsula where the houses are, so you can see land jutting out into the sea. To prove that, shortly after we left our son with his friends, I texted 7000 and looked for him just so I know how Globe would describe the place. The reply: ____ is in the gen area of /near Luzon Sea. Good thing we knew he wasn't out in a boat or swimming. Imagine, Luzon Sea. Also, there were houses which had steps leading to the sea. And some houses had speedboats. Lifestyle of the rich really. I'm not sure who the residents are so I cannot say they're necessarily famous too. I'd like to visit PF for a night at least. I'm not sure this will be possible in May because of budget constraints, hehe. But I want to go bacccckkkkkk. There's a book that says "100 (1000) places to visit before one dies." If I were to make my own list, PF would certainly be in it.

**************
At any rate, now there are three properties I dream of owning: a unit in Rockwell so I can shop in Power Plant anytime, without having to wait for husband to be available; a house in Tagaytay with a view of Taal Lake, and a house in Peninsula de Punta Fuego. Tall order? So why?

I'm inspired by two people who're known to have visualized such seemingly grandiose dreams: Willy Ocier, I heard, did that and saw his dream materialize in Tagaytay Highlands. Henry Sy, on the other hand, had a picture in the wall of Taal Vista Hotel which detailed the hotel's history, showing him with back to the camera, gazing at Taal Lake from what was then Taal Vista Lodge. Now he owns the hotel, a decidedly five-star place, at least judging from the Royal Suite (rooms 307, 308, and 309) which measured 112 square meters. The suite had a room at either side of the sala and dining room, two toilet baths with a bath tub each, one powder room, two refs, 3 TV sets, a dining table for 4. And the furnishings were tops.

Oh and by the way, the management of Taal Vista Hotel was insightful enough to locate the hairdryer in the bedroom rather in the bathroom. A number of hotels place the hair dryer in the bathroom which I think indicates an accident about to happen. In grade school, maybe the one who decided was absent when it was taught, one learns in Science class that touching any electrical object when one's feet or hands, or worse, body, is wet can ground/electrocute a person. Which is why if you see me in a hotel where such is the arrangement, my hair is in greater disarray than usual. I'd rather a bad hair day than a scorched, or worse, a dead body all because of vanity.

An Update on the Bird-Pecked Love Bird

2008-04-24T07:02:00.000-07:00

I consulted my friend who gave me the love birds about the plight of the bird-pecked love bird. She vowed to get back to me after consulting her husband "Doc Bob". Actually, he's no vet, just a pet-lover.

When she called, she was laughing. Not compatible, her husband pronounced. In human lingo, "di niya type ang male." Another possibility, the white bird was not female but male.

My friend said she'd just replace one of the birds. She asked which one, I said, the white bird who was doing the pecking. She didn't say when she'd replace it, because the occurrence is subject to her husband's schedule. So there.

Provincial vis-a-vis Manila prices

2008-04-24T06:55:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, my husband who has lost some weight, had one polo shirt altered. It cost him a little over P1k. If my memory serves me right, the alteration cost was higher than the shirt's price years back.

Some weeks later, my son had two polos altered in the same shop but a different branch. The cost of the alteration of the two polos was less than what my husband paid. So we thought the second branch charged cheaper. So we brought 3 of my son's polos to the second branch. He fitted them and pins were stuck wherever an alteration was necessary. When the bill was computed (you have to pay the entire amount before they'll do anything), it reached a whopping P3.9k. That made me think twice, then another time, then another. I asked if they had a discount card that entitles one to a 20 percent discount but costs P250 to procure. They had no more card left. They also give SM advantage card holders and senior citizens the same discount.

I hastily said I'd get the shirts back and return when they'd have a discount card available. At 20% off, I'd save P700 plus. So even if i'd have to pay for a discount card, I'd save P500 at least. A bit peeved, the girl canceled the transaction receipt and gave me back the 3 polos. Somehow the high cost didn't seem reasonable. I might as well have bought 3 new polos and added a few hundreds, if necessary.

I thought of sending the 3 polos to Bacolod to Mrs. Lim who made my clothes when I was in high school. Yesterday, she texted me that they were ready. The cost: P360 for all three polos. I rest my case.

Punta Fuego

2008-04-23T09:34:00.001-07:00

For a reason I cannot disclose lest someone reads this who shouldn't, have been scouring the Net for a possible place to stay in Punta Fuego or nearby. So this morning (wrote this Wednesday night but will publish it today, Thursday), I rabidly looked for accommodations. Actually, I began the search yesterday.

Called Taal Vista Lodge but they don't allow 4 adults in a room. So that means we need to get two rooms for husband, son, maid and me. What a waste of space and money, no? But they're firm about this.

Considered Country Discovery Suites. Fully booked.

Considered The Boutique Bed and Breakfast Hotel but was intimidated when I saw the more than 10 steps leading to its lobby. Thank God for the Internet, I saw this (just the steps, the chair's ok - got this picture from clickthecity and it appeared as such) . The girl who took my call said they had assisted big men in wheelchairs up those steps, but still I'm hesitant. Besides I read some unfavorable reviews of the place: bugs, broken locks, etc. Pity. See trvir's comment in the bottom portion of the series of comments

Considered Punta Baluarte where my sisters, husband and maid went to in the eighties. Read it hasn't been maintained well. So that's out. But in fairness (how showbiz), their website really mentioned wheelchair accessibility. How kind.

Considered Hacienda isabella of Kuh Ledesma. I liked the pictures on the Net of her place, one of this (what a contrast to bed and breakfast, no?),
and Agnes, who took my call to inquire, was the most gracious of all those I spoke with from the establishments above. Worth considering, actually except that it is 8 km from the main road, so that's an additional 20 minutes taken up.

Then I called Punta Fuego itself. While formerly it was strictly exclusively for members, it seems they're now open to entertaining outsiders if space allows it. Unfortunately, their casitas are all taken. Wanted to cry. A house for rent was offered by someone, but suddenly I was told that was taken too. This a.m., as I surfed the Net, I came across the blog of Marcel Lainez and posted a message asking him where he and his family stayed. He gave me contact info for Punta Fuego (a house) and Tali Beach. I find that so kind of him - that he promptly responded to my query via email. Thing is I saw his email only when I got home from Podium, ergo too late to make calls. I'll do that first thing tomorrow. [house was taken too, huhuhu] (Please click on his website to get the info I got. I'm not sure he'll want me to spread the word around just like that), For his pictures on Tali Beach and to ask him about the house he rented there, click here

If finally we can't get a place in Punta Fuego itself, it might be Taal Vista Lodge or Hacienda Isabella. Hopefully, it won't be too late to get accommodations in either. Or will we end up in a manger? Hope not. I've been praying...

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

Thursday morning update: Finally booked ourselves in Taal Vista Hotel. The people who take the calls are usually catatonic, robotic, lifeless. Even the girl I booked our accommodations with. How frustrating! So though I wanted to ask her more questions, I opted not to. It was like talking to guess who?

But I couldn't help it, I had to have answers so I called a different number and the voice that greeted me was alive, cheerful and joyful. Her name, Joy. corny ko no? But really, what a relief to know there are people employed by the establishment who have a zest for life. Hooray for Joy of the Manila office who volunteered a lot of info! May her tribe increase. Now to pack. Thanks for the magazines, chew. will take them with me. Got Yes yesterday at Podium! yehey.

The Podium plus two

2008-04-23T09:04:00.000-07:00

Early tonight, hied off to Podium to have my mini "burger" Ipod speaker checked. The volume it emitted was near nil. I brought the receipt with me as advised by the clerk in Mobile 1. When he was checking it, I silently cheered, "don't work, don't work" so I wouldn't be embarrassed. Luckily the speaker cooperated when it was tested. The clerk disconnected the cable and replaced it with that of the store's and voila! The sound was loud and clear. What was wrong with the cable? I don't know exactly, but the clerk said something like it was pulled out of kilter. That's a perennial problem of retractable cables. A year or so ago, my son's retractable mouse conked out while the regular mouse I bought for myself continued to function and still does, in fact.

After Mobile 1, we proceeded to the elevator which had a sign posted: Give priority to the disabled. The Podium. In addition to the text was the disabled logo. Wow, I thought, trust the SM group to be so caring of the handicapped. But when we entered the elevator, it was an inferno of sorts. Poor elevator man/woman. When I asked the man if he didn't get sick because of the heat, he said he didn't, while he continued to furiously fan himself. When we took another elevator manned by a woman (womanned by a woman?), there were so many passengers that the heat was overwhelming. Podium's elevators are not air-conditioned. They don't have a fan even. They are not ventilated. I pity the elevator operators.

On the second level (or was it third or fourth? I'm never sure in Podium), there were glass shelves underneath which was a sign "See's Goodies". I excitedly pointed this out to my husband as I triumphantly said, "Finally", in reference to See's chocolates one gets as pasalubong from Hong Kong. When I started to interview the girl, she said something to the effect that the two establishments weren't related. How very Filipino to be deceptive. I told my husband, so when See's Chocolates, the Real McCoy comes in, it will have a difficult time registering its name.

At Astro Vision was a promo for DVDs: Buy 3 get 6 free! Honest, that's not a mistake. We clarified it. The clerk said it was as it said making one's purchase price of DVD's a hundred each. Not bad. My husband got the 3 CDs of the animated version of Aeon Flux and then proceeded to look for the 6 free ones. I saw Barefoot in the Park (Robert Redford and Jane Fonda) but thought there might be better choices. Saw Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. So dark. After a while, my husband gave up. He returned the 3 Aeon Flux DVDs and we left. He'd have been willing to buy the 3 said CDs because at P297 each they were a bargain. They previously sold for a thousand pesos each.

Went to Living Well and bought 2 cute things. Sucker? But I'm happy: a waste basket with Monopoly (the game board) characters and a junk food clip with the Doritos logo
. If we go back to Living Well and I find another Monopoly waste basket, I'll get it for our bedroom.

Bought the tall pyramidal yemas at Lord Stowe . Yes, at Lord Stowe. In the past, all Lord Stowe sold were custard pies. Now they have vegetarian biscuits, tamarind balls, yemas, cashew brownies, caramel brownies, and the like. The yemas reminded me of their smaller version which I used to buy from the lab technician of the Spanish speech lab in college who'd sell them in various consistencies: soft when they were new and rock hard when they were old. His name was Milor. Wonder where he is now.

We had dinner at Crustasia. Vowing to go by the saying "eat to live" rather than "live to eat", I ordered sparingly (or at least less than I would have usually done.) Husband and I shared a cup of Tom Yum soup seafoods (fish, squid, clams) and mushrooms. Forgot to take a picture of it when it was served, so here's what remained of it after we divided the soup between my husband and myself:
We also ordered Thai bagoong rice
although my husband initially chose pineapple rice. WHile the former cost P175, the latter cost P308). Also got assorted lumpia . The platter consisted of 3 fried spring rolls, 2 fresh spring rolls, and one vegetable shrimp roll. The latter had bihon and shrimp in it. The sauces were of 2 kinds: plum sauce with peanuts and sweet and sour sauce. Ordered beef with broccoli or make that broccoli with beef (it had a lot of broccoli). Or maybe make that broccoli with ginger and beef. It had so much ginger my husband ate only a little of the dish , which was the most expensive (Php200+) among those we ordered. He didn't want to bite into ginger.

Oh yes, before the food was served, they gave us a bowl filled with crushed ice on which was stuck thick strips of carrots and turnips

. Very refreshing. This bowl was served with 3 kinds of dipping sauces: plum, sweet and sour and I don't know what. I only tried the two I mentioned. They also gave each of us a bowl with water, a slice of lime and a wet towel on top for washing the hands with, presumably after eating crabs. The bowl: . At the restaurant was a long table of yuppies and their boss, each of them donning a red bib. They ordered platefuls of crabs and looked so cute with their bibs on. Like overgrown babies.

******************
The following have nothing to do with The Podium but as they are short accounts, I've chosen to add them here.

Do you wonder why there is such an idiom as a "hen-pecked husband"? I wonder no more. Hen is fowl, like love birds are (or are they). Remember the 2 love birds I was gifted with on my birthday? The female, the white one, is perpetually pecking on the head of the more beautiful blue love bird. So the maid says, the latter is near bald. And to make matters worse, the female allegedly broke the wing or some part of the latter's anatomy. I haven't seen a hen pecking a rooster's head so maybe I shall now use the idiom "Hen-pecked bird" or "bird pecked bird." What do you think?

A friend's son flunked his non-pro driving test. Reason: he didn't wear the seatbelt. But where was the seatbelt? He didn't notice any. Why? It was a rope that was suspended from where the seatbelt should have been. laugh... only in the Philippines.

Mamou and Ricky Reyes

2008-04-22T02:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my best friend in grade school and high school said she was coming over from Bacolod and hadn't been to Serendra when I asked her if she had. So I thought of taking her out to Serendra this Saturday. As we've long been curious about Mamou (it gets considerable media mileage), I decided to call and reserve a table as I had read and witnessed how full the place always is. We always attempt to go in but the place is perpetually full.

When I called, a voice brimming with confidence answered. She identified herself as Annie as we were about to conclude our call a little later. She asked me what time we wanted the reservation and explained that the restaurant has two sittings (seatings?). What on earth was that, I wondered? So I asked and she explained: We seat (sit? I'm confused) guests at either 6:30 or 8:30. Guests who come before 8:30 have to leave by 8:20. I think she heard me chuckle because in a more friendly voice, she interjected, "parang airline, no?". Then she explained that their customers say "We just want to eat and then leave." In other words, one is not to dally. If one is early enough (say, 6:30) one has an hour and 50 minutes to relish every morsel. Now if one is late, one gets acid reflux or indigestion. Just kidding but likely, no? I asked what their specialties are and she said roasts, steaks, pasta, fish and chips, the works. I asked what the average price per head was. She said they had dishes for as low as P300+ and steaks for as high as P2900. Before you wince, the latter is good for 3 people. You may cringe now.

If it is not verboten, I shall take pictures of Mamou (the place) and the food served this Saturday. Abangan.

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Ricky Reyes. Mother Ricky Reyes. Actually this entry doesn't have anything to do with him directly. How's that for being so Philippine media? As in sensationalizing?

Anyway, this morning, the maid who takes care of me, Maid B, was in her usual dour mood. I was tempted to sing "Sounds of Silence" (which I do when I ask something and get no response), but was too lazy to sing. Anyway, when I told my husband I'd do the grocery in Katipunan when he came back from jogging, he suggested we go to Unimart instead. On another day, that suggestion would not be unusual, but today is a Tuesday and our Revo is color-coded. The Corolla isn't, but it's easier for husband to carry me in and out of the Revo than in and out of the Corolla as the former is higher. As is my husband's wont, the prospect of getting caught by the blue-shirts of the pink-shirted BF was not enough to cow him into being quick with his jogging. Oops, mali. He brought the wrong car to Ateneo for his jog, meaning he brought the Revo. So while he finished jogging by 9:30, he was stranded in Ateneo till 10, the time window was lifted. When he arrived at past 10, he had breakfast, bathed faster than usual, and gathered his clothes to change. As I prattled on the phone with a friend (are you reading this?) I thought by the time I'd go out to the sala to join him so we could leave, he would be ready. But nay, he still didn't have his shirt on nor his socks and shoes. The computer was on, but he said he was shutting down. Fine. To cut a long story short, we left the house at 11, leaving us with only 3 hours (we wanted to leave Unimart by 2) to travel to San Juan, have lunch, do the grocery. We brought Maid B.

Maid B remained quiet all through the ride but did thank me when I gave her money for lunch. I pointed out Watson's to her so that she could buy toilet paper (Orita, 24 pieces for P208 only) and save time in the process. After lunch, we looked for her in the benches in Unimart as agreed upon, but she wasn't around. I asked husband to leave me in Unimart while he looked for her in Watson's but she was nowhere in sight. I was trying to gather some groceries by myself, putting them on my lap when I saw the coke 1.5 which I needed 15 bottles of for a potluck party on Monday. As those couldn't be stationed on my lap at all along with some toiletries I had gathered, I asked the security guard whom I saw for a cart. As I began putting the stuff I had gotten and the bottles into the cart, I heard a voice say, "nag pa haircut ko sa Ricky Reyes." Promise, she said that. She added, "nakita ko kamo nag-agi." My gulay. She went on "Pero indi ko ka guwa (go out) kay gina tapos pa ko." Hayyyyyyyyy. I asked if she'd seen my husband, the answer was no. Maybe she hid so he wouldn't scold her? So I called husband who didn't answer his phone but got his call soon after. I told him she was with me.

Now, Maid B has a layered haircut, courtesy of Mama Ricky Reyes's parlor. (how abrupt the ending no? The exercise exhausted me-- the recounting and the frenzied wheeling I had to do by myself while waiting for her apparition -- a good 20 minutes I think).

Nothing wrong per se about her getting a haircut but we were in a rush and I had told her so earlier. And guess what? Though husband said he'd be back to get us from the grocery by 2, he came maybe at 2:10 per my watch even after I said we were finished. He said, "We still have an hour to Loyola, that's good enough." What if the traffic were bad? Luckily for us, it wasn't so we didn't have to shell out P300 to the blue-shirts.

I am my father's daughter. I worry too much. Bow.

The Shadow of the Wind

2008-04-19T23:09:00.000-07:00

Last week we went to A Different Bookstore in Serendra. As soon as the door opened, a male clerk greeted us and said, "I was in Eastwood before". The face wasn't familiar but he attended to us all the way. He suggested a book The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, saying it's a hard-to-put down book. He had read it, he said. As The Kite Runner was beside his recommendation, I asked what he thought of it. He said it was good, better than the movie which he said failed to capture the characterization. That's one plus point of A Different Bookstore. Most, if not all, of its clerks are readers. In fact, the Eastwood branch has this blackboard where the names of the clerks are written and underneath, their favorite books respectively. Galing.

I bought the book and am halfway through. So many distractions keep me from finishing it one sitting. It's ok. Blurb at the back cover says it is reminiscent of Umberto Eco's work, and those of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's and Jorge Luis Borges. OF these three authors, I've only read UE, so I can't comment on the other two. I guess it is similar to UE's in the manner of setting, plot and style. As to who is the better writer, I don't think I am in a position to comment. To my mind, it is not literature in the sense that it might become a classic. I'm more inclined to compare it, in fact, to Dan Brown's style. But I'm no expert, so...

Gamu-gamo aka raga-raga

2008-04-19T22:54:00.000-07:00

Wednesday and Thursday nights, at close to 10 o'clock. these pests swarmed around the fluorescent light bulb (50 watts, so quite a long bulb) in the room. Wednesday night, I was reading when I could sense my son scratching his leg. After looking at it from a far, I happened to look up and wow, infestation, invasion. Husband took a while to assemble the weapons of mass destruction: a basin of water and some candles. I felt so helpless and frustrated because while he was assembling them, the lights were on and the invaders increased in number. The TV had to be turned off so for close to an hour, we couldn't do anything but swat those that managed to creep down our arms, backs, etc.

Thursday night, a reprise took place. What alarmed me was my husband's thought that the said pests might indicate the presence of termites in our grounds. What do you say? Texted a cousin who lives in a condo nearby and there was not one gamu-gamu in sight, she side. A perk of living closer to heaven, I guess? My son who was at a party in a nearby subdivision didn't experience the insect attack either. But our neighbors did.

Last night, husband suggested we go out to avoid the incursion. So we hied off to Power Plant. At the elevator I was dismayed when I saw the husband of a newscaster with a female who wasn't his wife. And they talked about doing the grocery. His sister? I doubt it. Then we proceeded to have dinner at Sumo Sam and guess who was there? Joyce Jimenez and friends. Joyce is very pretty, always smiling. Her voice, though, sounds like GMA. Promise.

After dinner, we were walking along the corridor when my son said, "Ma, si Will Devaughn". Will was the commercial model of McDo a year or so ago, I think and is now one of three good-lucking guys in the Nesvita commercial. Of course Chris TIu is tops but Will is also guwapo. he and his companion went inside the shoe store Aldo. The lady was one of his housemates in Pinoy Big Brother. When I told the maid, she said it was Rissa, most likely.

My son got a book from National Book Store. It consisted of essays written by two women who are only child's. The essays were also written by similarly situated persons. In Fully Booked, he got a copy of the autobiography of Sting.

Quirky store/mall practices and then some

2008-04-14T08:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, we were in Rustan's Supermarket in Power Plant. As we were about to pay, the cashier advised that we do it in tranches of P1000 each. Why? The store has this promo where every single receipt of P1000 entitles you to a gift check worth P100 which you can use to buy Le Gourmet sausages or ham. So, if you buy P10,000 worth, you need 10 different credit cards or 10k cash and ask the cashier to cut off totaling your purchases as soon as you reach a thousand pesos worth. Fine if you have time for all those transactions. But pity the poor cashier as it complicates her work. My son shook his head at the hare-brained scheme. Really ludicrous.

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Some malls charge parking fees according to the length of time one stays in the building. Maybe this is fair but again, it penalizes the cashier, lengthens queues and could be unfair. The cashier needs to compute how much you'll have to pay. As she does this, more cars queue. And how is this unfair? That you have to queue prolongs your stay in the establishment, raising the possibility that you'll pay more. The scheme is a flat rate of say P35 for the first 3 hours and P20 per hour thereafter.

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Ate at Chelsea in Serendra because a few weeks back, their chef guested in one of the shows on TV and demonstrated how risotto balls were prepared. The chef used lots of cheeses so I imagined tasting the balls would be exciting. In an earlier blog, I recounted how the risotto balls in Buon Giorno disappointed me for being so dry. Chelsea's was a little better but was still not good enough. I ordered a burger sandwich per the recommendation of the food server. While I said "medium rare" she said to get "medium well" so that it would not be bloody. I thought her suggestion worth trying out. well the burger was very dry and thick, so dense it no longer looked appetizing. The sidings that came with it were okay, though, especially the potato wedges that were served with a mayo-ginger dip with mustard on the side. It had two small slices of onion rings dipped in batter and deep fried. That was ok too. The sandwich was served with lettuce which I didn't touch because it had no dressing.

Meanwhile, my husband ordered fish and chips. This was really good. The serving was generous, my husband thought, too generous in fact. he couldn't finish it. It was served with cole slaw (violet cabbage) and aioli dip and vinegar. Nice one that.

The cake we ordered was Chocnut Dark Varlhrona and it was good. It melted in the mouth.

Will we go back to Chelsea? likely yes, so our son can try the food thereat, which are mostly his favorites: pasta, pizza, cheese platters. The place is always full and I thought months back, intimidating. From the outside, I thought before that it was a really sosy place, but guests weren't formal at all. In fact, the lady in the table next to ours was so noisy, name-dropping (Bea Zobel's name). She addressed someone as bishop and said they'd vacation in the Pyrenees. I thought I'd develop a headache listening to her. I wanted to scream for her to lower her voice. She wasn't young, mind you, maybe mid-fifties or older.

I'll post some pictures tomorrow.

Picture is of the foccacia bread topped with roasted garlic they served soon after we arrived.

The fish and chips et al. lying on their side. (lazy to set it upright)

Their frosted drinking glass.

Risotto balls

The daunting burger

The melts-in-your-mouth chocolate cake. Yummmmmmmyyyyy.

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On Bonifacio High Street, between Fully Booked and the Gap store being constructed, saw this huge Havaianas for "Grandma Wolf" ("What big feet you have" -- Think Little Red Riding Hood.):

Shorts

2008-04-13T22:14:00.000-07:00

When we were about to leave Caleruega, I saw the guard about to bite into his sandwich. He raised it and said, "kain tayo, ma'am." That is one Filipino trait/practice that is so endearing...

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At the CCP lobby, as we were about to leave, an old lady demanded of the guard, "Bakit mo pinapasok yon? Naka shorts. Hindi naman eto beach!" Sadly, that's how things go these days. People defy so many should's... or would be betters.

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Bought this box of Junior Caramels from the grocery. As I was about to open it from one end, I saw the message, "Open at the other end". I think this missive is a thoughtful one because the other end had the following instruction: "To close, insert tab in slot". The wrong end had neither tab nor slot.

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This morning, in Unang Hirit, Sunshine Plata and her works were featured. Sunshine uses coffee for her paintings. I'm not sure it is all right to lift one of her paintings to show in this blog, so check this out link for yourself. Uncanny.

Hooray for Globe, today!!!

2008-04-12T05:12:00.000-07:00

This pm we hied off to Globe in Shang to have the Nokia 2630 phone replaced, it possible. Initially, the man who attended to us said he'd have it evaluated, and this time I was no longer inclined to be patient. i said,"So I won't have a phone for another week, sayang my load, etc." He went in and checked if they had a service unit I could use and came back to say they had none. I asked to speak with the manager. I wanted the phone replaced.

After some time, Doner, the manager, came out with the good news. He would replace the phone with a new one of the same kind or the other one that went with the plan. But he needed the entire box and its contents (manual, charger, earphone) back.

I said, no problem. He said you may come back tomorrow, but realizing that this was too good a chance, a blessing even, to pass up, I texted my son to call my cellphone (you'll see why later) so I could give him instructions to send everything to Shangrila through the maid who knew how to ride the MRT to the mall. In a little over an hour's time, she came and so we went back to Globe.

Some papers had to be signed etc. but now we have a new replacement phone. The manager admitted they had received a lot of complaints re Nokia 2630. God bless him for agreeing to replace the unit.

Globe yet again. As I waited for the transaction to end, I asked the guard for literature on the different plans offered by Globe. Earlier I had looked at the bill of my son's plan when I applied for it and realized it was GTalk. Yes, I had been talked into getting the said plan by the lady in Podium. Its features were 350 free text messages and 210 minutes of voice calls for P1200.

Ever since I got the plan for my son, I came to realize he hardly used the phone to call. Luckily, I saw that Globe was offering a Globe flex plan that was consumable. For 1200 said plan had 250 free text and P1200 that was consumable in any way one needed/wanted: to surf the Net, to call, to text some more. Text messages were at P0.50, voice calls, Globe-to-Globe P6/minute, etc. Upon studying its features I realized the plan was more practical; but problem was, would they allow the switch?

I called 730-1000 and was assured they could and they would on the 17th because they had a standing rule: switching wasn't allowed 4 days before or after the cut-off period. So there. On the 17th, my son's plan will be consumable na. Yehey. Thanks to Tat Vergara. I told her how much clearer her explanation was than that given by the personnel in Globe Podium. She apologized on behalf of that person. May her tribe increase.

The CCP Grounds

2008-04-11T17:21:00.000-07:00

What a surprise we were in for when we drove to CCP last night to view the exhibits of my husband's former student, Jomike Tejido. We thought we were lost when we made a turn. In fact, my husband thought we'd have to drive further to get to CCP although we were in the reclaimed area. Why?

Where before (Imelda's time) one saw mostly parking lots, right on the left side of the CCP were eating places, brightly lit ones. Then I saw a structure that looked familiar. I said, "Oh, I saw Tommy Abuel eating there before", pointing to an outdoor concrete cafeteria, when lo and behold, my son saw "CCP parking". That was a very tiny space where the entrance and exit were one and the same space, and again a tiny wisp of a girl (like in Fish and CO) pulled and pushed the heavy metal thing that blocked the spot. The space was really tiny. But other than that, we didn't notice much else as we were in a rush. We were one and a half hours late for the opening.

The girl pointed us to the entrance across when we told her we wanted to view the exhibit. We followed her instructions, only to be told it was the artists' entrance and while it had an elevator, that elevator led to the main theater's backstage. Whoa. So we were told to go to the Little Theater's entrance.

When we were near enough, I didn't see any ramp and was almost dismayed because years back, okay make that more than 20 years back, I had written the CCP director then, Bing Roxas, asking if they could install one and she complied ever so kindly. Now it was gone. Then my husband and son said in unison, there's a lift. Lift, sosy. Like in Power Plant but better. It was enclosed. It had a tall door like to a room; the lift in Power Plant has a half the height of a room door. So my husband and I boarded it as we would in Power Plant. Whoa, it "millimitered" itself up (as opposed to inched itself up) and the guard said it was good for the person in the wheelchair only. But it was too late for my husband to get out. Besides, the notice on the side said 750 pounds. While I'm sure the wheelchair may have weighed 50 pounds, I was also sure I didn't weight 700 pounds. SO why was it moving so slowly? My son suggested that my husband reach out to the top of the enclosure to help it up by removing some of his weight from the floor. That he did did hasten the upward motion but then the thing stopped. Then it went on again, then stopped. Eventually we were able to get to the landing, proceeded to the lobby of the Little Theater and were told the exhibit was on the 1st floor. We rode the elevator to the 1st floor, asked around and were told it was on the second floor. When we got to the second floor, boohoohoo, no ramps, just steps galore. So I told my husband and son to proceed to the exhibit: my husband did, my son chose to keep me company. My husband wasn't gone for long and I prompted my son to go see the exhibit. His pronouncement: the paintings on banig of Jomike Tejido are works he'd like to have in his home. Maybe, if I get to see the third exhibit (we saw the first in Serendra without our son) and there's a cheap one, I'll buy one for him.

We left before long and this time, I was put in the lift alone and it zoomed down. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but the trip down was pretty fast; gravity plus less weight inside the thing, I guess. As I was going down, I heard someone say, "Hi Mary An", the friend of two of my friends, but I couldn't see her, enclosed as I was in the lift. Then my husband and son exclaimed, "Si Sony/Tita Sony". True, it was my sister rushing up the stairs to catch the performance in the Main Theater (Madz, Noel Cabahug, etc.).

Anyway, as we wheeled to the space where the car was parked, I heard the blare of a honky tonk (think jukebox place, okay, cheap bar) singer (read "ka buki") and thought aloud, "Imelda would be flummoxed", even as my husband said, "There's a live band on the other end". If Imelda were six feet underground, she'd turn in her grave, but she's alive, so that makes it even worse. I mean, wow, what a turn of events for her beloved seat of culture. I felt disgusted, violated. Sayang.

By then it was past nine pm, but we had to drive to a party of the mother of my son's friend near North Edsa, the farthest end of EDSA. Traffic was super heavy everywhere and when we reached the road beside Camp Crame (Aguinaldo?), my husband made a turn, leading us to Katipunan, ignoring the saying "the shortest distance between two points is a perpendicular line"). For a while there, I was scared he had decide to go home because he was driving really fast without talking. I just closed my eyes and kept quiet, praying to God to keep us safe to wherever he'd drive us. We ended up in our friend's house, intact. Whew. By then it was almost 10:30 p.m, rather late for us but that made the birthday celebrator happy so okay na rin. What a night!

I now regret that I didn't take pictures of the CCP grounds last night.

Update on Nokia 2630

2008-04-11T00:26:00.001-07:00

This update should have been posted 3 days ago when the barely a month old Nokia 2630 which came with Globe Plan 500 conked out after they reformatted it. Time to go back to Globe Shang. Will I be as patient? In this weather, I may not be. Why on earth is it so hot?

Years back, a classmate cum niece or a niece cum classmate teased, asking why my temper was so short. I laughingly told her, "ka init!" Yes, the weather definitely affects my temper.... hahaha.

The Chapel on the Hill and Caleruega

2008-04-10T02:27:00.000-07:00

Caleruega was the main reason we had hied off to Batangas, the Chapel on the Hill was a happy incidental. As we visited the Chapel on the Hill first, I'll write about it prior to Caleruega.

The Chapel on the HIll is walking distance from Evercrest Hotel. It is owned by the Don Bosco fathers. Those in wheelchairs shouldn't be disheartened. There's a ramp that gives access to the chapel on the hill.

The chapel called the Mary Help of Christians Chapel, I think, has a labyrinth. Coincidentally, prior to leaving for Batangas yesterday, I bade goodbye to Mama Mary's image which visits our home monthly, from the 7th to the 9th. And this Mama Mary is Mary, Help of Christians.

Rather than words, I'll put in the pictures my husband took to show you the place. The place is so laid out that it inspires prayer.

Following are the pictures I took:

Caleruega, on the other hand, is well known for weddings. In fact, when we got there, there was an ongoing wedding and when the couple had left, another was there for a look-see of the place. Owned by the Dominicans, it houses retreatants and there were quite a number around. While a few days ago my sister said it looked like it wouldn't be accessible to me, when I called the place I was assured there were ramps everywhere and she wasn't lying, except to the hanging bridge and the koi pond. Otherwise, the chapel and everywhere else was accessible.

The chapel in Caleruega is called the Chapel of the Transfiguration, hence the stained glass design below:

On the left is the prophet Elijah, the middle, Jesus, and the right, Moses with the two tablets of stone.

On the way to Caleruega were a number of houses and townhouses, a few of them looking like they had seen better days. I felt sad looking at them, among them this: .

There were also new townhouses with nary a caretaker nor security guard. What a pity if they don't take care of it.

I'll try to post more pictures in my multiply site. Easier to do so there. They'll be pictures of our trip in general...

Evercrest Hotel, Nasugbu Batangas

2008-04-10T02:08:00.001-07:00

The hotel's architecture is reminiscent of Baguio Terraces Hotel, the one which went down with the earthquake. It did not have as many floors, however. Built some 15 years ago, it must have been five-star then because the room sizes are adequate (we got a Junior Suite for P4500/night with breakfast for 2; additional persons P200 per). The suite had a receiving area, a view of the golf course in the veranda , a dining table, a refrigerator, a toilet with a bathtub, a separate shower area, a hair dryer, etc. BUT the walls had rust (?) stains, the TV's reception was bad even after they replaced it, the aircon in the room refused to cool well (it was set at time delay, the engineering man said). We weren't given towels until we asked, we weren't given enough soap and toiletries. We occupied one of only three rooms that had guests last night.

One of the restaurants is for Koreans only (and we're in the PHilippines, take note, or is Batanagas Korea Jr.?) The clubhouse where breakfast and other meals are served has no ramp and there's no one who helps until you ask) and we were told breakfast would be buffet so we hied off to the place despite the steps this morning. But when we got there, the waiter said it was a choice between Filipino, American or continental breakfast which we could have ordered room service and which we eventually did. Luckily, before we negotiated the second set of steps to the resto area, we saw no buffet, asked and were told we had been misinformed by the man who had brought the menu to our room. Oh boy.

I didn't tip the engineer who came to fix (but didn't succeed enough) the TV because it was our right to have a functioning TV set, right? He wasn't doing us a favor. Neither did I tip the housekeeping lady who brought in the towels which were due us. My rationale: if I did, they might see this as a money-making activity.

Yesterday when we lunched, we ordered caldereta, salpicao and binagoongang baboy. The caldereta could have been softer, the salpicao was all right, the binagoongang baboy was misnamed. It should have been called curried pork. I couldn't taste the bagoong.

Breakfast: the ham used was not ham per se but its cheaper version: spiced ham. The omelette looked okay, the tapa was tops (the waiter had recommended it), while the longganisa looked dehydrated. The hot chocolate had solid particles (I suspect tablea was used but not completely dissolved).

Would I go back to Evercrest? Possibly, but if there are better alternatives, I might pass up the chance. Oh yes, it has a sister hotel/resort: Chateau Royale. This one has cottages that are attached to each other. My son wanted to check in there, my husband thought the cottages were way too small. Besides, Chateau Royale didn't offer a view of the golf course. Rather than nature, it had buildings, playgrounds, more buildings. But my son said it was more disabled friendly as there were ramps everywhere. You see, one of the buildings in the grounds is designated for retirees.

I think the two resorts/hotels are owned by the Gotesco Group. Not bad really, but could be better.

FIre Lake Grill 2

2008-04-10T01:57:00.000-07:00

Everyone, please go eat at FIre Lake Grill in Cliff House Tagaytay. I'm so scared it won't last much longer. Last night we had dinner there and there were only two tables taken (one with three of us, another with three ladies). Today, when we had lunch in Buon Giorno, the resto across it which was filled with guests with more coming, Fire Lake had not one customer. SO please, for its survival's sake, do go and eat there.

Their food at Fire Lake's is way better than Buon Giorno's. Our orders last night at Fire Lake included salad with black angus beef, CAB (certified angus beef, I asked) steak with jumbo prawn, a pasta dish, risotto with sausage, asparagus and mushrooms. Dessert was a tiny cake with peanut butter and white chocolate, on a decorated plate. Every bite had to be savored. Every bite was so good.

So why did we eat in Buon Giorno today? The first time we ate in Fire Lake Grill some years ago, my son looked longingly at Buon Giorno which he was sure served pizza. So to satisfy his curiosity and craving, we hied off to Buon Giorno for lunch. What did we have?

Not being that hungry, I ordered croquettas (risotto balls with mozarella - very dry), my son ordered New York pizza (not very tasty), Belle (who takes care of me) ordered mini burgers with fries (fries were ok, burger, passable), while my husband ordered pasta with tahong and shrimp. Ok lang. The dessert (moten choco cake) was great in that it was really moist and served with vanilla ice cream. Just like in Fire Lake, we were served bread, not with butter like in Fire Lake, but with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Bread was good too.

So why is Buon Giorno doing much better than Fire Lake Grill in terms of enticing the customers?

Fire Lake is fine dining, entrees a bit more expensive than Buon Giorno although FL's pastas aren't priced too high. BG has pambata offerings, a kiddie menu even which adults may order from if they so prefer. But in terms of quality, FL is tops. Pity if it dies...

I'll be so sad.

The Fish and Co buffet

2008-04-07T18:27:00.000-07:00

Value for money- one certainly gets that from the Fish and Co buffet, Mondays to Fridays, lunch and dinner time at Shangrila only, for P550. Entrees include fresh fruits, juices, a choice between tom yum soup and miso soup stuffed with all kinds of fresh sea foods (tender squid, yummy; fresh shrimp, fish), chicken pastel, pork ribs, pot roast, pasta, fresh oysters (or you may have them baked with cheese), garlic tahong, broccoli au gratin, seafood paella, freshly fried fish and chips (on Mondays and Tuesdays only). Drinks have to be ordered and paid for.

So where's the catch? Pity the waiters assigned to the buffet on the ground floor. Why? The only one assigned when we ate last night was one tiny wisp of a girl who had to take our orders for drinks (my husband had refillable so she had to come back several times for the refill), go up to file our order for the fish and fries, go upstairs to get more oysters, etc. Later, another female server joined her, also very thin so that one pities them. At least two tables were sympathetic and we constantly asked or consoled them, to show we understood their predicament as they apologized for delays. They forgot to give us fries but we couldn't find it in our hearts to complain. They were trying their best.

When we were there, there were initially 3 tables that were occupied, then a fourth. In the smoking area outside the mall there was another table that was occupied. Imagine if all the tables were filled! I dread the thought for the poor ladies. I asked if they were permanently stationed there and they said their assignments were rotated. I suggested they tell their manager to assign the heavy weights downstairs so they would lose weight.

By the way there were desserts too. Panacotta served in different sizes; like in one-shot glasses, tiny wine glasses (ok, you get the drift, i can't tell one alcohol cup from another) etc. Cups of greenish gelatin with fresh fruit slices on top offered an alternative. My husband tried both and panna cotta with mango was better he said, compared to the gelatin. Re the soups: he tried both tom yum and miso. Initially, he said the miso was better until he took a bite of the ginger. He promptly pronounced the tom yum soup to be much better.

If I see the manager of Fish and CO, i'll certainly tell him to increase the manpower during buffet times downstairs. I could almost imagine the servers there collapse from sheer exhaustion.

Googling and Serendipity

2008-04-04T17:34:00.000-07:00

When I surfed for more on "there are no accidents, only grace", which Gerry Esquivel mentioned in his commencement address (see earlier blog)< my search yielded the following:

1) A link to a homily at the Ateneo where the homilist said, "The great German Jesuit theologian, Karl Rahner, said it very simply: Keine zufall, nur gnade. “There are no accidents; only grace.” - from the baccalaureate mass homily of Fr. Danny Huang, SJ

2) There Are No Accidents: Synchronicity and the Stories of Our Lives
by Robert H. Hopcke
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Synopsis
In this inspiring book, Robert H. Hopcke, a Jungian psychotherapist, explores the role of synchronicity in our love life and our work life, in our waking life and our dream life, in our everyday life and our dream life, in our everyday life and our spiritual life. Through interviews with people whose lives have been changed by some unexpected chance encounter, he presents us with a rich array of true synchronistic stories: a woman is set up on a blind date with the same man, years apart, on two different coasts; a singer's career changes direction when she walks into the wrong audition; just when he is feeling particularly alone, a man runs into a college friend at a remote outpost on an island in the South Pacific. Not only does Hopcke present these stories to us, he shows us how, by looking at our lives as coherent narratives, with synchronistic experiences the turning points in the plot, we can use the synchronicities we experience to lead our lives more meaningfully.

Publishers Weekly

While people have "a tendency to deny, dismiss, or discount" synchronistic events, Hopcke contends that when greeted with openness and acceptance, these occurrences, which briefly connect one's inner and outer life by shattering normal interpretive frameworks, have the power and purpose of transformation. As Hopcke, Director of the Jungian Center for Symbolic Studies, explains Jung's 45-year-old coinage, a synchronistic event must take place at a transitional moment in one's life and must defy a simple cause-and-effect explanation. It must also be personally meaningful or symbolic; one person's life-transforming event is another's banality. The bulk of the book focuses on relationships, work, dreams, spirituality and "matters of life and death," anecdotally illustrating how synchronicity often leads people in the direction they unknowingly need to go. While synchronicity has gotten a lot of play in psychological and New Age circles, skeptics remain. Hopcke's lively, accessible interpretations of a plethora of real-life events will make their doubts difficult to maintain. BOMC, QPB and One Spirit Book Club selections; audio rights to Audio Literature; foreign rights sold in the U.K., Australia, Italy, Spain, France, Portugal, Holland, Germany, Sweden, Japan and the Czech Republic. (June)
More Reviews and Recommendations

If I find Hopcke's book, I just might buy it. Sounds interesting...

Commencement Address of Gerry Esquivel

2008-04-04T17:16:00.000-07:00

Of tsamba, fools, and silent walks -- Gerry Esquivel

date posted: 2008-04-01 18:04:20
By Gerry Esquivel

What follows is the message of Architect Gerry Esquivel to the graduates of Ateneo de Manila High School Batch 2008, delivered at the commencement exercises on Sunday, March 30 at the AHS Covered Courts.

Magandang hapon sa inyo.

Bumababa na ang standards dito sa Ateneo high school. Pati ako pinagsasalita na sa commencement exercises.

Tinanong ko si Father RB kung puede makipagswap sa ibang commencement speakers. Sa Prep na lang sana ako magsasalita. Hindi siya sumagot…. Parang nagsesecond thoughts na yata.

It has always been my job at home to tell stories to my younger children before they go to sleep. I still do this especially to my 8 year old son. Stories about warriors. Giants. Hidden treasures.

This graduation talk is nothing really more than that, silly stories. Of Tsamba. Fools. And silent walks.

Bago ang lahat, meron lang akong aaminin sa inyo:

First. I did not graduate from Ateneo high school. Mabuti pa kayo. For whatever reason I found myself completing 4th year as an exchange student in a public school 20 miles south of Boston.

Second. While I have always bragged about my belonging to the honors class, I wasn’t a very bright student. Pagsi at one point gave me a 74 in English. Cheekee gave me a semestral grade of 72. And I barely passed Physics.

Third. High School wasn’t all fun and games for me. I was bullied and insecure. I was nowhere near as intelligent as my classmates. 4A produced graduates from Harvard. Stanford. CalTech. I even have a classmate who hangs out with Nobel Prize winners in Economics.

And yet, and yet, my dear graduates, life has its own crazy way of coming full circle. Funnily enough, I find myself a non-alumnus, a mediocre student, and a loser by high school standards giving this commencement talk.

And this twist of destiny, itong biro ng tadhana, I like to call tsamba.

STOREY NO 1. TSAMBA

I asked Enzo’s friend’s what they thought tsamba meant and they said… Luck. Swerte.

Right after high school I told Tatay of my plan to be a Jesuit. He told me “Gerry take any course in UP, the easiest course you can find."

So I decided to take a 4 year course, BS Foreign Service. Sinabihan na naman ako ng Tatay, “Gerry, mag-architecture ka na lang, magaling ka namang magdrawing.” I said yes. I found myself completing Architecture in UP, passing the board exam, and shortly right after entering Arvisu house as a pre novice. Finally, I said. My heart rests.

Shock no 1. The Jesuits wrote me a letter of rejection to Sacred Heart. I was devastated. I planned priesthood since high school. Pinagbigyan ko na ang Tatay, it was time I said that I pursued my own.

Lesson no 1: no matter how noble your goal in life is, it can never be a substitute for God’s Holy Will.

Reality no 1. Shattered dream. No plans. No money. My career break came in when I got a job to build a kitchen cabinet. I had no experience in construction. But my initial assignment led me to build bigger kitchen cabinets, chapels for funeral parlors, and garage renovations. Since then I have abandoned design and architecture. And after that first job, that small kitchen cabinet, I have taken on bigger and more exciting projects. To think that all this started with no experience, no plan, and no capital. Luck? Swerte? Tsamba!

And of course the greatest tsamba of my life, Beng. She belongs to the sister class of my section. She knew all my classmates. Syempre puera ako. Di ako nagpaparty. Wala akong kotse. Wala akong magarang damit. Wala akong pera.

But one clear day, 11 years after high school, I accidentally met the most beautiful woman in my life. I fell in love. I am sure that the best decision I have ever made, was to marry the girl of my dreams, the school girl that I should have met in high school. Luck? Swerte? Tsamba.

At itong mga nangyari sa akin after high school, at itong mga puedeng mangyari sa inyo, tsamba ba talaga lahat ng ito. Luck? Swerte?

Tsamba I believe is about an overwhelming and powerful spirit of thanksgiving. That Tsamba is all about trusting. That tsamba is all about grace, and God’s providence.

Some of you may not have gotten in to the university of your choice, you may have worked real hard and barely made it today, you may be terrified that you still are unsure on what to do after graduation. Relax. To all this, you must say thank you.

The world is open to those with a grateful heart. There is an infinite layer of tsambas in this world. And while some events appear to be fueled by accidents and luck, Karl Rahner put it so rightly when he said, "Accidents? ... there are no accidents in our lives. Only grace."

STOREY NO 2: COMPANY OF FOOLS

I am sure that in your 4 years of high school, you have done some pretty silly stuff. Some form of prank. Some kind of mischief that got you in trouble. And during these years you have also made fools of yourself.

Fr. Macayan would stop by EAPI on his way to the JR and talk to the trees that he planted. He would point an angry finger at the trees and tell them… "You dumbbells… why are you not growing as fast as I want you to?” He was a silly man.

But you know, my dear graduates, what is sillier and more foolish is that Fr. Macayan died a few years back alone in the Jesuit infirmary. While some of his siblings and Jesuit brothers were there, he died without family. How silly when he could have used his higher math to be an engineer and raised a family and built a career of his own.

And yet this silly and foolish man chose to live a very boring life. Teaching first year Algebra. Checking papers, Talking to trees.

I remember Pagsi. He was always so engrossed with his story telling. While reading to us the story, The Most Dangerous Game, he was like an actor auditioning out for a play. His saliva spurting all over. But what is sillier and foolish is that I remember visiting him in his house when I was in first year as I visit him now. He still lives in the same house along Esteban Abada. No major improvement. No major expansion. Walang ganoong pagbabago. And yet Pagsi has taught Presidents of companies, corporate leaders, movers and shakers. I am sure he does not mind. He is happy with his work, happy with his boys, and at peace to be a founding member of God’s army of fools.

Let me now share stories of silliness after high school.

For the last three years, Enzo and I would visit my carpenters in a squatter’s area on Christmas day. Medyo off yung timing because it’s the day when then there is much revelry, gifts, visitors, when there is food and drinks in abundance in our home. There we would drink beer and eat tilapya with them and they would tell Enzo their own kwentos. I am not sure what this does to my men. Not too sure what this does to Enzo. All I know is that the timing is off, the schedule is tight, and the activity is rather silly.

I was skimming through scripture, when I read a verse about feeding the hungry. Clothing the naked. And visiting those in prison. Right there after closing the Bible, without thinking, (which I often do), I immediately called the Jesuit chaplain in New Bilibid Prison and asked him if I can visit him the following day.

In that meeting I decided to finish the chapel in the minimum security area. It took me close to 2 years to finish. But before I left that first visit, Fr. Willy toured me around. ( Let me share a side side story) And there tugging along our tour was a man that kept asking how I was. Nabigla ako ng tanungin niya ako…. Kamusta na po si Enzo? Si Ina? Si Ma'am Beng?

Patay.

“ Sino ka?”
" Driver po niyo ako."
"Bakit ka naman nandito?"
"Carnapping po."

Young men, there are 16,000 inmates in New Bilibid Prison. I was Bombay's first visitor. Silly and foolish stories.

I have made several trips to Payatas. Not so much to fix a school in Payatas 13. To reflect. To ground myself. To stand on a hill.

There I met Josebeth. An 11 year old who lives in Samar. Nagbabakasyon daw siya sa Payatas. Kasi nanduon ang kanyang pamilya.

I asked her what she wanted. “ Wala po. Ok ako dito.” Her direction was clear. Nothing distracts her. All that she wishes is to be with family. No wish of toys, clothes, or special food. Such a silly and foolish girl.

My dear graduates. Please. Do not think that I ask you now to drop all your dreams. Join the Jesuits, join an NGO and be amongst the poorest of the poor. No. No my dear graduates. This is not what I wish to say.

Dream. Be happy. Live. Excel. Express. Tell the world who you are and who you can be. Profit from this world.

Create a life deserving of your visions. There must be no boundaries to your dreams. There must only be drive. Direction. Desire. You must be hungry to achieve. To commit to nothing else but the very top. To try.

All that I wish to share with you today is that together with the drive, direction, and desire is that you sprinkle your journeys with tiny moments of silliness and foolishness. To reach. To share. To give. To find it in yourself the foolish thing that makes you true. And while your journeys take you to the glamour of business and profession, find time to bask, to sun bathe and spread your arms wide enough to dance and sing to the beautiful music of fools.

STOREY NO 3. SILENT WALKS

I visited Father Joey Fermin in Medical City and asked permission if I could share this story with you. He said yes.

I am sure that all of you know that he is ill. Fr. Joey went out for a walk inside campus. His best friend Fr. Aydee accompanied him. They went around the Ateneo grounds for close to 45 minutes. But what is interesting is that they returned to the Jesuit Residence after that long walk without uttering a word to each other. They didn’t talk.

But I am very sure that Fr. Aydee wanted to tell Fr. Joey that he was praying for his recovery, that all would be well in the end, and that should he need anything, he would always be there for him.

I am also very sure that Fr. Joey wanted to tell Fr. Aydee that yes, I really need your prayers and support; that I am scared and unsure of this illness, and that I appreciate you taking this walk with me when I know you may have some concerns of your own.

And why do I share this with you? Because there may be some similarity with this story and our journeys together, you as adolescent sons and us your parents. That there may be moments when we will both take these long and silent walks. When it is unclear whose pace we follow, yours or ours. When there is only respect, and love shown in every step. When words cannot capture that which we both feel inside.

Like Fr. Joey’s and Fr. Aydee’s long and quiet walk, we will all need to return to our own JR.

But remember that the Jesuit Residence is not a place to return to but a quiet corner in your heart tucked away where the noise of this world cannot reach. Siguradong hindi kayo lahat magkakasama-sama sa college. Iba iba ang inyong pupuntahan. And during those years, the phone calls will lessen, the text messages will not be as frequent, and you may have developed some new friendships of your own. There will be silence and long walks. You must return. To the 4 years of friendship, the victories in band competitions, the exciting dates you had together, the defeats in intramurals, the first taste of beer. The fun. The laughter. The friendship you will take forever.

You must also return to your mentors. Those who formed you these high schools years. These silly Jesuits. Your foolish teachers. They who taught you everything they knew. And not held back. Whose only desire is to produce brave men that will pay forward the luxury of a solid education.

After several years, when you have built your empires, you MUST return to the ATENEO. And I advise you to physically take these long and quiet walks. By yourself. Or with your best friend. And recall the steps you freely took before and realize that your deepest desire really and without doubt is to be the high school student you once were. Excited. Full of life. Idealistic and free.

I visited Fr. Macayan 3 times before he passed away. I shared stories with him even if he can hardly talk. I told him, “Father, si Gerry Esquivel ito. Estudyante niyo sa Algebra.” He was weak and could not respond. “Fr. Si Gerry ito kaklase ni John at ni Patrick.” His eyes lit up and murmured. “Yes. John. Patrick.”

I left JR feeling a little bad. My Algebra teacher did not recognize me. He did not remember me. But then I realized that it was not so important that he failed to remember me but what is more important, I remembered him.

Congratulations young men. This is your moment of glory. Throw your cares into the wind. Do something really silly today. Approach the teacher that gave you your lowest grade. Sabihin mo, "Babalikan kita Ma'am. Babalikan kita sir.” Not out of spite or revenge but out of gratitude for keeping you awake at night studying. Go to Fr. RB and the Jesuits. Magyabang kayo. Sabihin niyo sa kanila “Father, pag successful na ako sabihin mo sa akin kung ano ang puede kong ibalik sa High School.” Yabangan niyo. Shake hands and greet all your batchmates. Especially those whom you hardly know. Those that you have not talked to. Sabihin niyo sa kanlia, "Pare…. Congratulations…KitaKits.” Because today, after this graduation there will no longer be a 4A. 4B. Or 4C. Today, your badge of honor will be, “Atenista ako! High school batch 2008.”

Magbarberohan kayo sa isa't isa. Last few days to see each other. Sabihin ninyo …. “Pare. Pag doctor na ako…gagamutin ko kayo. Pare. Pag abogado na ako…ipagtatanggol ko kayo. Pare. Pag arkitekto na ako….idedesign ko kayo ng magarang bahay. Pare pag film director na ako….gagawin ko kayong artista. Pare pag Heswita na ako….. ipagdarasal ko kayo palagi……………. Pucha Pare kahit ano man ang mangyari…. Magkaibigan tayo.”

Good luck to all. It’s your turn to weave your own foolish stories. Pakatandaan lang ninyo…. Na kahit ano mang paikot-ikot ng kwento ng buhay ninyo, ano mang akyat at baba…. Ay di kayo maaring makaalpas sa higpit ng yapos ng ating Panginoon.

I end with a blessing to you.

“Humayo kayo. We release you from being a child. From being within easy reach of our tight embrace. We will watch you from afar. We will hide our tears when we see you fail. We will share our smile when we see you prevail. All that we ask, is you take these walks with us. It may be silent. But God will allow us to savor it… because it is in silence that we hear God the most.”

We are proud of you. We love you. Hanggang dulo. Habang buhay. Ad Majorem. Dei Gloriam.

What I know of Gerry Esquivel: A most generous person. When my son was in Senior year in high school, through a parent of a Junior, Gerry offered his services for free and some materials to boot for the renovation of the Onofre Pagsanghan theater. He is not a snob despite his stature...

Celebrities Up Close - You don't have to be snooty just because you're a celebrity

2008-04-04T15:38:00.000-07:00

In Lucasan, maybe some 20 minutes away from VE, we went to the place of Ugu Bigyan, the POTTER (but as my son and husband say, no relation to Harry... corny). The gates were wide open, anyone could simply walk in and get anything in sight, but happily no one did. I guess that's how things are most of the time in the province. A healthy respect for the neighbor's property and the neighbor's trust in turn.

There were at least 3 structures that looked like houses, but the biggest also had an open side door through which we walked and saw antique furniture, used rather than simply displayed furniture. Place was very clean, no dust, no musty smell there. No one was around as we quietly looked. Earlier, my husband inquired from someone he saw if we could have lunch. They said impossible as we had no reservations. Ugu Bigyan after all, was first of all a POTTER (no relation to Harry, ang kulit) rather than a chef. Never mind, we thought, we could eat at Kusina Salud which was part of our itinerary home anyway. So we looked around some more. One of the structures had a lady manning it. It had pottery works of Ugu among other stuff. True to form (which has come with age in my case), I asked her, can we not really have lunch here? She asked me, "maybe you can. have you talked to anyone? what did they say?" I was evasive, vague. I didn't want her to know we had been turned down so she could "fight" for "our cause" and maybe she did because when she came back, leaving her post to possible thieves (us, haha), she said we could be served lunch. yahoo. As we moved on to another structure, this one selling jewelry with terra cotta attachments (parang file) and or semi-precious stones, bull horns, etc. and native bags, and browsed some more, the waiter said we should start eating as the soup might get cold. Soup was asparagus with strands of beaten egg white. My son said it had fish too, but my cup didn't have any. There was also pako salad which looked inviting (it had the pako leaves, some tomato, cucumber, onions) and another green dish (was it Lent and I was being punished? Joke) with kangkong leaves and tahong out of their shells.
The third dish served was impressive in terms of size: a huge flat fish skimmed by light soy sauce and topped with slivers of ginger. My son loved this dish very much. Oh and then there was a pork dish that tasted like it had orange marmalade. And finally a cup each of strawberry ice cream. Oh yes and fresh buko juice, very sweet though unsugared, with lightly spooned out buko meat. Very refreshing.

When we asked the server who prepared the meal, I nearly fell off my wheelchair: Ugu Bigyan, he said. When we arrived, we had been told he was bathing. And then he had prepared our lunch so quickly? I almost wanted to ask if he could train our maid cum cook to cook faster, more enthusiastically. Tall order. As we lunched with the server bringing in stuff, we asked if we'd see Ugu. he said Ugu would come out that's for sure.

My son said he saw a picture of the young Ugu: dark and thin like ____ Bermejo, a session drummer whom we'd seen perform in the Podium. So we looked out for anyone who remotely resembled that image. We didn't see such a one but at one point, there was a man in a grey shirt and plaid green shorts walking past us. When we asked the server for the nth time where Ugu was, he said, "ay sayang, siya yun" pointing at the very man. He said, "tawagin ko". It occurred to me then that maybe, he was an okay boss because without hesitation the server approached his by then eating amo, who promptly smiled and walked to us, shook hands and quietly answered our questions. He also posed with us, asking one of his nieces to take our picture so everyone could join in. Look for it See here. Now there was a genteel place with hospitable people, not hungry for tips. (Sorry VE personnel.) He also signed the calling card (his) we asked him to.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

NDP is the daughter of a well-know culinary expert. Her son and mine were classmates in Prep. She was our "boss" parent being the Class Parent Representative. She also cooks and had a long-running cooking show on TV. As soon as she was chosen CPR, I had written her explaining how she could call on me to help anytime. She never did and was mostly on the giving side. One time, after our sons' field trip, my son came home with a shirt that wasn't his. It was his Tita Nina's who saw how sweaty my son had become. She lent her shirt. One time there was a grade level presentation and she took my son's pictures without being asked and gave us copies. Another time she went to Australia for the Special Olympics and came home with a shirt of the event for me. A very thoughtful friend.

And still another incident. I was cooking pastel de lengua but had run out of sherry. I texted to ask her if I could substitute white wine. She said better to stick to sherry. Aware that I had run out, she promised to bring me some so I could cook a perfect pastel.

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

LKT and Mr. T are the parents of a Hangad member. One time PKT eagerly introduced us to them or them to us (if there are billing problems as in showbiz billing) and ever since then, LKT has always approached us to kiss, Mr T to shake hands. The couple, I found out only the other day, are journalists (do I reveal LKT's identity? Lorna Kalaw-Tirol). And the son, Paolo, has his name in many, many, CDS as arranger/composer of many beautiful songs, but he's not at all snooty.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$'

And of course there's TMP, who doesn't hesitate to be on mother mode when we interact because her son and mine are friends. One evening, sounding alarmed, she called me to ask if my son were around because hers wasn't home yet. They had practiced together but leave farther than we do from the practice place. Motherly stuff like those. Another time when she saw me she asked if I knew what had happened to her husband: he had slid and hurt himself. Wifely stuff like those.

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

Celebrities like the above show they are human and that fact doesn't make them less of celebrities. It in fact enhances their celebrity because they are not conscious that they are celebrities.

Villa Escudero

2008-04-04T06:23:00.000-07:00

The trip was overall satisfying in terms of location, food and sights but what grated, somehow, was the fact that the personnel somehow seemed to be always wanting to be tipped. For example, when my husband was unloading stuff from the car to the cottage, I gave him money for tipping and when he came back, he said there were some 8 people carrying our luggage. And mind you, we were there for an overnight stay only. The bags we had weren't that heavy at all so that the morning after, the maid simply made two trips to the car without any effort. It was a good thing she did this early because shortly after she was done, some 8 ladies came and asked if we were checking out. When we said yes, they asked where our bags were, adding you had a lot yesterday.

True, I understand how hard money is to come by these days but somehow, the propensity to almost literally ask for tips irked me. For example, the man who helped us go down to the falls said as we were eating, I'll be upstairs waiting. Somehow, I took that as a hint to be tipped. And the ladies in the souvenir store weren't too hospitable. Of course there were exceptions but somehow, the attitude of the rest tarnished whatever goodwill the others somehow created.

My husband noticed how even the old women seemed to still be serving. I saw the plus side of that: they were somehow like mentors for the young ones. Hopefully, mentors on a positive note.

meanwhile, when I told a friend about how many of the personnel seemed to be waiting for tips, she suggested that -- oh never mind, that's second guessing and may be unfair to the establishment.

The personnel, notwithstanding, our stay in VE was very satisfying in terms of food -- the three meals that came with the lodging fee somehow didn't make us hungry for merienda. There was always soup, a seafood or fish dish, vegetables, etc., dessert. Drinks were at P30 each, be this soft drinks or buko juice. Breakfast spelled freshly baked pan de sal and loaf bread. Delicious.

Our room was nice, but again lack of product knowledge surfaced. When I contacted the office in Manila, personnel said she'd book us at a garden room with a garden view as the unit had no steps. Charge was P5000 plus per head. When my husband saw the unit, there were four steps leading to it and a few meters away, he saw Gumamela A which had a ramp and a river view to boot! Luckily for us, this was unoccupied and the man who handled the transaction readily voided the first credit card slip. The Gumamela A unit was a thousand pesos cheaper per head. At least, though, the girl in Manila knew well enough that there was access for a wheelchair-bound guest to get to the falls for lunch. To view pictures, check out the following site. There are pictures too in my multiply site.

I'll add a few here of the cottage where we stayed and some other facets of VE.

As I reread this, some six hours or more after writing the entry, I realized how often I used the words "somehow" and "seemed". I think that SOMEHOW my doing so is an attempt to show appreciation for the establishment as a whole and a slight disgust/disappointment at certain aspects of it. It doesn't deserve outright bile, but things could be better. Calls to mind how the personnel of Rustan's are generally well trained, eager to help, eager to please, and there's no tipping there. Calls to mind too, a neighborhood grocery store, Shoppersville Supermarket, were tipping is strictly not allowed.

On the way home from our out of town trip, we passed by Kusina Salud which is owned by Patis Tesoro's family. The afternoon merienda menu shouted "Tips very much welcome" or something to that effect. Somehow, that didn't leave a bad taste in the amount because to begin with, the place screamed bohemian, fun, disarray via the colors, layout, setup. VE on the other hand, seemed (there goes the word again) to want to convey a certain quiet genteelness, gentility, a semblance of the old rich man's hacienda were people were quietly servile, obsequious, without being annoying.

Where food was served there were lots of flies. Considering the number of men and women hovering around, I almost expected the "tabug", those fan-like things to drive away the pesky flies. Think Cleopatra, think those long flat handles with one-inch strips of manila paper attached to one end to drive the flies away. But no, the servers used their hands. Two incidents made me wince: when we were eating in the pool area, one server picked up the slipper of a child from the water and handed it to the child. Thoughtful, I thought. Then she went to our table and with that same hand served some food. I thought I saw a drop of water from that hand going to our grilled fish. Another incident. The servers were dressed in native attire. So the blouse of the ladies hangs out rather than sticks to the body. Okay imagine this. One lady server beside me reached to the middle of the table to arrange the food. Whoa, her bloused touched my rice and chorizo. I softly said "sana palitan" but she seemed not to have heard it or failed to get my drift. My husband who was farther away from me said, "exchange na lang tayo." I said no, but he insisted. As we did that, the server looked wonderingly at why the exchange of plates took place but didn't ask why. Clueless...

See there were small irritants where the personnel were involved, irritants that could well be corrected to improve image, VE's image. But I don't want to offend anyone, I don't want to be poisoned, if I return, for being so critical. Maybe if I meet the owners? As if we move in the same circles...

La Mesa Grill yet again

2008-04-04T06:00:00.000-07:00

Last Monday evening, our son had a debut to go to in Timog (or Morato? I'm eternally confused between the two), so after dropping him off, husband and I proceeded to Trinoma to have dinner at La Mesa Grill.

We chose to go deeper into the resto, a wise choice as the noise level thereat was considerably lower than near the door. We ordered 1/6 of the crispchon with pandan wrap

and the following sauces: Rikki's favorite (hoisin), liver sauce and garlic mayo. We also ordered tinapa rice per the recommendation of our lady server (it's rice with tinapa flakes, salted egg and tomatoes), adobong sugpo sa aligue and cassava cake (one slice for the two of us). Oh yes, we ordered hito flakes salad with green mango and soft drinks. A very satisfying dinner, especially because it was the manager, no less, who chose to wrap our lechon in pandan wrap
and when most of the flesh had been extracted from the pata, he asked if we wanted this cooked in chili sauce at no extra charge. We concurred and brought home the leftover pata. Tender and yummy, even the morning after.

Breakfast and EDSA

2008-03-31T00:01:00.001-07:00

I'd rather have posted these pictures in my multiply site as mere pictures without labels and will likely do the EDSA ones as soon as a I have enough, but anyway, here they are:

The first picture is of the LRT (MRT?) as it swooped past my left side.

The next is of a truck with tanks of Acetylene gas that reminded me of what we used in the house when I was a young girl. Wonder if that's what it's called still.

The next is of a protracted mural/art work along a wall in EDSA. Such pieces always make me wonder why MMDA takes it on but doesn't proceed with it all the way. Just blotches them here and there. Paucity of budget? In Singapore I think they go all the way with no less than the late Pacita Abad taking the project on.

Truth to tell, I brought out the camera when I saw the streamers of BF along EDSA. They came in different sizes depending on the size of the concrete post. They had hues of pink, as usual (attesting to the saying "REAL MEN WEAR PINK"?). So much for the old missive "Post no bill". Sadly, I was too slow on the draw and by the time I got my camera out, there were none to behold. These were mostly in the intersection of EDSA and Ortigas, in the underpass area.

Also very visible were "wanted:_____" , a scion of a rich family allegedly turned _____. I'd rather not say what out of respect for his now dead mother who seemed such a lady. Hard to miss streamers of him as they're in all the main arteries in Metro Manila: EDSA, C-5, Commonwealth Avenue and only goodness knows, where else.

And now for my breakfast picture. Can you guess what they are? The green thingy was handed by a child to my husband when he went jogging Easter Sunday. The maid said it wouldn't keep so before having her eat it, I took a shot for sentimental reasons.

Evita Peroni stuff - caveat emptor

2008-03-30T07:34:00.000-07:00

Less than a year ago, I bought a number of hair accessories because I wanted to grow my hair but it wasn't growing well. I thought getting hair accessories would help them look neater. I bought 3 separate items from Evita Peroni in either Power Plant or Rustan's Shangrila.

My experiences; The black plastic hairband remains intact to this day. Here's a picture.

The brown clip which had mostly brown beads before morphed. Some beads turned blue, some others green. How politically correct. Both Ateneo and La Salle are represented. But I bought the clip because I wanted a brown clip. Before this clip morphed, I got a third hair accessory. But before I go into that, here's how the clip looks now.

The third: It's a ponytail thingy. Beads were all brown, some bigger ones were copperish or clear. Months later, the brown beads morphed into either blue or green. Not all but a good number.

Last week, when we passed by Evita Peroni in Rustan's, the sales clerk greeted me. Tough luck for her, I remembered about my hair thingies and told her. She said to bring them over so she can tell the office about it. yesterday, we were in Shang but I didn't have the hair pieces so I couldn't show her anything.

Tonight, we were in Power Plant and that gave me a chance to show the hair thingies to the sales clerks there. They said, "we'll ask the office." How hostile, how cold. She said I might have worn them while my hair was wet. The beads were coated brown and not really brown. I said, if as you claim they discolored because they got wet, what about the beads on top of the clip? They didn't touch my hair. She grew quiet.

Good news from Globe and a few other stuff

2008-03-29T08:24:00.000-07:00

This morning, I got a call from Globe in Shangrila. They said my Nokia 2630 was ready for pickup. Now that's service. Hopefully, Yupangco/Yamaha will be as quick. Emailed Godin but no answer so far. I wonder if they ever will respond...

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Last night when we bought the Silent Guitar from Yamaha in Megamall, the guy attending to us had a lip ring. That was the first time ever I saw someone with one up close. So even as my son winced, I just had to ask: was it painful? His answer: No and he did it himself. I asked "Did it bleed?" Again he answered in the negative. I went on: what if you bite it while eating? He said "nabali na nga po, tinanggal ko lang (the broken piece)." I said, "sana wala kang ring sa dila." His answer, "tinanggal ko na po. Nagalit na nanay ko. Gawa lang ito ng kabataan ko." Mind you, he didn't look that young. And if I saw him in the street rather than in a store selling "matino" stuff, I'd be fearful of him. But as Melanie Marquez said, "don't judge my brother; he's not a book." I rest my case.

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I went to Big and Small in Shangrila and the cashier remarked "ang tagal niyo na hindi bumabalik dito ah". Actually she didn't at all look familiar to me. Nor did the girl beside her, who volunteered, "Ako dati sa Glorietta" and without thinking, I said I didn't go to Glorietta. (I don't like it's architecture which drives me nuts going round and round and round). She laughed and said, "takot kayo?" Only then did it occur to me that she asked if I were afraid because of the bombing months back. So I asked, "were you there?" She said she was at the bank to deposit. Luckily for the other store clerks, too, she said, they were all huddled near the cashier's and not by the doorway which crashed. So all of them were unscathed. One of the victims though had just come from their store. She had just left with her husband when the bomb exploded. I asked if Big and Small sent flowers. She said they lit a candle for her in the area designated by Glorietta management for the purpose.

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Last night, I asked my husband if he and the yamaha personnel who accompanied him to withdraw (per my request) talked. He said, "I don't have the gift of small talk." Some time ago, I told him that "small talk" comes easily if one doesn't regard it as "small talk." All one has to do is to be genuinely interested in others-- their stories, their thoughts their feelings-- if they seem inclined to share. I regret now that when I was much younger I was always hesitant to ask questions. I guess the fear stemmed from being thought dumb because asking meant not knowing the answers? And I didn't want to be thought dumb. With age came the wisdom, the brazenness, the gall to ask, throwing care to the wind that by asking, one would appear dumb. Is this newfound courage a result of humility as well? That one acknowledges one doesn't know the answer to everything, so one asks...?

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Caution: days back, the maid pointed out three blisters on my tummy. (and I didn't feel them-- a privilege of paralysis -- no feeling, no sensation, no feeling of pain.) I don't know how I got those blisters there, but methinks it may have been caused by heat radiated by the MacBook? I could be wrong. Way, way back, I also developed a blister in my tummy from the tape of my disposable diaper which stuck to my tummy rather than to the diaper. Onion-skinned, that's what I am both literally and figuratively. Years back, I also got a blister while I was cooking on the electric stove on a table beside my wheelchair. Heat must have been conducted to the metal parts of the wheelchair and transferred to the side of my knee. Want pictures? No way...

An Overnight Vacation that Costs...

2008-03-28T18:07:00.001-07:00

On Wednesday next week, we intend to go to Villa Escudero in Tiaong Quezon for one night. Years back, I wanted to take my son there because of its man-made falls that look like combed, shiny hair, from a picture my husband took of it when we went there years back. My son wasn't around yet then.

A few months ago my son saw pictures of the place and wanted to go there to take pictures himself, so I made some calls. Prices are steep. They charge on a per person basis and the accommodations with aircon cost P5000 plus with three meals. Corkage will be charged if you bring soft drinks. Yes, soft drinks. You may only bring in junk food and mineral water. My goodness.

Methinks the exorbitant charges are due to the fact that they cater to balikbayans. My husband thinks they want to maintain exclusivity. This I'll have to investigate. Feeling Sherlock Holmes?

Will have more to write after our trip. Hope everything will be worth the P20k plus. I always rationalize that we don't go abroad anyway....

Odds and Ends

2008-03-28T17:09:00.000-07:00

Before starting to type, I had so many things to write on in mind, hence the title. But suddenly, my mind seems to focus on just a few things. Lest I forget them, let me list them: Godin/Yupangco, Manila Pen.

Let's start with Manila Pen.

yesterday, we were scheduled for two free lunch buffets (we had to pay for the third) and luckily, my son was more than pleased. he didn't have breakfast so I guess that made him easier to please? Anyway, the spread of breads and cheeses and cold cuts was what thoroughly made him happy. The sashimi choices included snapper (lapu-lapu) and unagi plus some others. There was asparagus soup and lots of meat choices. I'll just list what I remember. One was japanese beef stew. It had carrots and potato. It looked so Filipino (estofado) and when I tried it, it tasted so Filipino except that they used Kikkoman soy sauce instead of Silver Swan, Datu Puti and their ilk. There was roast beef and another beef entree with mashed potato. I didn't like them too much because they had herbs that weren't to my liking. My husband liked the lamb ragout. I tried the bringhe (first time in my life) and it had chorizo. I think it was Chinese chorizo and either the chorizo or the greenish rice (with turmeric) gave the dish a rather odd (to my taste buds) flavor. Unlike in Circles (makati shang), Nielsen's didn't have lechon. There was also baked salmon and some pasta, a shrimp martini, crab relleno (Vir made them better) and lots of desserts. Yummy desserts. The Napoleon was really rich -- unlike Roli's which just has a hint of custard, this version was custard with thin crusts at the top and bottom. The top crust was glazed with confectioner's sugar that had a hint of chocolate care of the design on it. There was tiramisu, chocolate mousse that tasted more like coffee (I think it had Kahlua). Lots of fruit choices too. There were lots of native kakanin-- maja blanca, malagkit, sapin-sapin. So how would I rate the Nielsen's lunch buffet? Three stars, I guess. I think most buffets don't have impressive meat dishes in the sense that these are kept warm by food warmers rather than freshly cooked. On the other hand, their cold cuts, sashimis, breads, cheeses and desserts are what catch the palates of discerning (or gourmandish?) foodies because they are served as they should be. But it was a pleasant experience altogether. My son remembered a waiter from a year or two years ago who was his usually, jolly self.

I would have wanted to take pictures but my camera battery had no charge. In fact, I was planning to take a picture of the movable gate (yellow and black thingy) along the driveway leading to the hotel when I realized the battery's lack of load.

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Godin/Yupangco. Okay, given that my son was not and would not have his Godin for the next 30-45 days as of thursday's assessment by Yupangco, we decided to pay their shop a visit after lunch. My son went in ahead (music stores excite him) while husband and I wheeled in. (an aside-the stench of the garbage receptacle in their parking lot is the pits -- reminds me of that dump site in Silay when I was a little girl. Should the stench have forewarned us of what was in store?)

When we got in, my son was nowhere to be found. Then my husband saw him surrounded by 3 men. He was seated. (think Finding of Jesus in the temple). And one of the men said, "tanungin natin". LAter I asked my son what that was all about and he said he told them of his plight - no guitar for a gig tonight because of Godin. That part of yesterday at Yupangco was impressive. So was the attention of the Roland personnel who gave all the right answers/suggestions/apologies. A real asset for Yupangco. Very polite and capable. What got my husband's goat was the girl manning the phone lines. Customer service person cum operator? Anyway, when my husband mentioned to her that the Godin we got was on display rather than right out of the box, she said, "Eh bakit niyo binili?" My husband was so floored he didn't say anything. He brought me to the lady after telling me that to show how she looked. When the lady saw us, she said, "Eto ang manager." Maybe she thought we'd be intimidated? SO that gave us the chance to tell on her. And she kept apologizing. I told her, or was beginning to say something, when she kept saying "sorry kung yun ang dating" without sounding contrite. I told her in the first place, "bakit rin binenta? At inassure kami na ok pa siya?" What a contrast to the ROland guy who said the part had been ordered and would be ready in 3 weeks to a month. FEDEX na daw. See, because we complained there was an easing up of waiting time? Hope they deliver. And when I said, "what if the pick up would break down again? Another 30 to 45 days? The Roland guy said possibly they would order 2 sets so there would be a spare. Heavens.

Earlier my son tried out a Yamaha silent guitar with steel strings. Notwithstanding our Godin experience, we were ready to buy it. But when my husband was so badly treated by the customer assistance cum operator, we opted to leave.

we decided to go to Megamall. JB Music Store had Ovation and while my son said it was okay, I knew its quality was nowhere near the Yamaha guitar he had tried out earlier. The price was a third, true, but quality pays in the long run, right? So we went to a Yamaha branch in Megamall and got him one. Suckers? But we didn't have much choice. Earlier we passed by Audiophile along EDSA but it no longer stood where it did. The building had been demolished. Sad. Their biggest store hopefully still stands in Ali Mall. But that would have been quite an effort to go there.

Godin Acoustic guitar

2008-03-26T22:53:00.000-07:00

September last year got my son a Godin acoustic guitar. Last night, he restrung it for the first time and after he had done so, the pickups of three strings refused to work.

This morning my husband went to Yupangco in Makati to have it evaluated. They were able to fix the pickups of two strings but not the third. They would have to order the part and expected the said part to come in 30 to 45 days. Sounds familiar?

Nokia 2630 would be ready for me in two to three weeks time. What would I use in the meantime if I had no extra phone?

Godin will take 30-45 weeks for its parts to be ready. IF my son had no extra guitar, what could he use for his gigs?

Shouldn't an item still under warranty be replaced outright?

It's sooooooo hotttttt

2008-03-26T22:48:00.000-07:00

Monday, had lunch with my friends.

Tuesday early morning, heard mass in the parish because I missed doing so on Mama's 30th death and my brother's 35th death anniversaries the day before. Was editing for a Jap professor till midnight only even if she wanted to send more because I had a headache by then but couldn't take medicine while editing.

Wednesday, after taking tempra and Antamin the midnight before, I woke up at 9 a.m. (unusual for me) and kept falling asleep during the day. Bathed late afternoon and felt cold afterwards. Was feverish, took Bioflu and slept before 10 pm (unusal for me).

Thursday, woke up feeling better, less warm to the touch. Feeling hot naman.

Have just been watching Princes Hours on DVD. Not finished with it yet, but it's cute. It presents the culture of royalty in Korea. Very interesting.