Mamou and Ricky Reyes

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.