She’s Gone

I loved her without knowing her. 

I fell in love with her writing the very first time I read her column in Sun.Star Daily.  

I lost her when I left.

Then I found her again in the wonderful world that is Multiply.  I lurked around her site, too shy to invite her to be my contact.  She was someone I admired very much, someone I aspired to become.  A very talented writer, a lover of many things — dusk, books, poetry, the deep, cats, yoga — she never wrote a mean word about anyone in her blog.  When she wrote, it was always about the stillness or grace of things.  But always there was that sadness that descended upon her again and again.

Ana, I thought there was always time to meet you, to get to know you, to be in the presence of such a beautiful spirit.  The few personal messages that we exchanged are forever etched in my heart.  You were always so kind to me, so gracious.  You have touched so many hearts and lives just by being who you are.  

I do not know you, and yet I love you.  By your leaving, you have left such a deep void in my heart.  

May your soul be at peace, at last. 

Counting Days

I am a headless chicken running around in circles.

I have to-do, to-buy, and to-bring lists.

And to-see and where-to-eat lists.

I am literally counting days!

Justice is Alive

After she was sent home to serve the rest of her sentence in the luxury of her multi-million dollar digs due to an undisclosed medical condition, Paris is now back in jail.

Justice is alive and well.

Oh Paris!

I have never loved the girl but now that she's in jail — even reporting days early — I feel a new respect for her.  

Hopefully, she uses this time to ponder on the merits of wearing underwear and why she must make sure she has in her custody the one and only copy of her future sex videos (so she gets all the profits, of course!).

Oh Paris, what I would kill to have your money!  And you don't look too bad, either.  If you had some good sense in you, you'd be perfect.  But then again, you're probably thinking, Who wants to be perfect?  I just want to have fun!

Against my better judgment, I am actually expecting to see a more subdued and more sensible Paris 22 days from now.

I Can See Clearly Now

Despite the many ways the average American life is made easier by high-tech gadgets and machines and idiot-proof processes, there are things that the Philippines does so much better — and with less expense too!

Take for example the matter of getting contact lenses.  Here, I had to go through a contact lens fitting that cost me $75 under our insurance coverage.  Now that the husband has moved to another job — and we are under a different coverage — I have to go through the whole process again and pay $95, even though I told them I am still fine with my old contact lens prescription and I just need a few boxes because my supply is running out.  No can do.

Back home, the so-called contact lens fitting, which simply means having you try out different kinds of contact lenses until you find a brand that's comfortable for you, would have been free of charge (back then, anyways) and getting a box of contact lenses would have been as easy as pie.  Sigh.  I miss De Los Reyes Optical.  Hahaha!

Anyhoo, I've found a way to circumvent the whole process.  I can just get my contact lenses online and I won't have to pay that darn $95 fee!  Online shopping is the bomb, don't cha think?     

Babysitting 101

I have never baby-sat.  Ever.  Not even my nieces and nephew.  So you can understand that even with the best of intentions — and despite the assurances I gave our couple friend that they can call me anytime — tonight, when they finally asked for my help, I was mortified.  

T and N live just around the corner from us (N is the husband's college classmate).  They're both nurses and there are two nights in a week when their schedules overlap for an hour.  They have three kids. N's mom had been staying with them for nine months and it was time she went back to the Philippines.  T said maybe it's okay to leave the kids alone for that one-hour window, anyway, they are almost always asleep by then.  I was horrified;  I told her a lot of things can happen in an hour.  I offered to sit in, just to oversee things, before her husband comes home.  Up until tonight, they've tried to work their schedules out.  Tonight, they were in a tight spot.  The one thing that wasn't in the contract was the possibility that one of the kids might be awake.  Hadn't the mom assured me all three would be asleep and I only had to watch for, maybe, sleepwalkers in the lot?  But yes, the youngest was wide awake and the mom turned her over to me as she gathered up her things for work.   

Need I say it again?  I was mortified.  What was I to do with a wide-awake one-year-old baby girl?  

Turns out it was easier than I'd imagined.  She is a well-behaved little girl, who stayed glued to the Leap Frog DVD her mom played just before she hopped on her SUV.  I had her in my lap as she gurgled out cute baby sounds.  I was waiting for her to cry, or look for her mom, but she happily stayed in place, shouting out "Eeeeeeees" in between chewing on my wristlet.

When her dad arrived an hour later, I almost didn't want to relinquish her to him. 

She's such a sweet little angel and I can't wait to baby-sit her again.     

Home Sweet Home

I've missed my house.  And my bed — the thick mattress and the soft 4-inch memory foam mattress topper.  I've missed the fuzzy blanket that keeps my toes warm.  I've missed waking up in the morning knowing that when I step out of the bedroom, I'd see the husband hunched over the computer.  I've missed taking a shower in my very own bathroom stall, with all my hair essentials lined up in a row.  

It's great to be home again.

I've been away for two nights, giving in to a request by B and her aunt, B (let's call her B2 to avoid confusion), who I've become really close friends with during her visit here.  B2 was set to leave for home and so it was deemed necessary that I spend the night to say our goodbyes.  Apparently, B1's 4am vigil at the balcony was a one-shot deal and that left me and B2 to really spend hours gabbing as she packed 3 boxes to full capacity.  We slept at 5am, waiting for word from the airline whether she'll be able to board a flight that night.  Unfortunately, her flight was not confirmed but we headed to San Francisco anyway so she could drop off two boxes for cargo, a privilege extended to airline employees like her (but not without the usual fees for excess).  I was supposed to go home that night, after that short trip to San Francisco and a satisfying meal at Jollibee, but one thing led to another and I found myself sleeping over again.  Her flight had been confirmed for the next night, and so extended goodbyes were in order.  She entrusted her niece to me, saying I am the only person who can help B1 navigate the world of maturity and adulthood, a task I hardly think I would like to take on simply because I'd turn into a nag if I did.  And yeah, we were able to discuss all this because B1, again, left us to our own devices as she bid us a sleepy good night 5 minutes after we arrived at their place.  

This morning, I made a hasty and early exit with the husband while they were all sleeping.  I missed home and the husband too much.  I figured if B2 would really make it tonight (unfortunately, she didn't…  the flight for Manila was overbooked), I could say my last goodbyes by phone.  The husband and I had breakfast at IHOP with the cheery waiter, Alejandro, brightening up our morning even more.  When we got home, I breathed a big sigh of relief, changed into my sleep clothes, and dove into our comfy bed.  

Home sweet home.    

Unexpected Things

We are a congregation of wives, of different ages, personalities and temperaments.  On our own, we would never have given a passing glance to each other.  But we are here and we are inevitably thrown together simply because we married men of a common thread: they were classmates in college.

There are five of us — B, J, G, T and I.  Three of them have kids, and two of us, being so young at our marriages, are yet to have children.  So it is no surprise then that B and I would be drawn together.  Well actually, it is a big surprise.  She is 25, brash and a bit childish, and does not have a lot of interest in books and movies and blogging.  I would never have thought we'd be sharing thoughts on anything from marriage to friendship and swapping childhood stories in their apartment balcony at 4 in the morning.  I never expected we'd share moisturizers and lipstick or that I'd be wearing her pajamas when I went over to spend the night at their apartment (my first and only night away from the husband to date).  Granted, most women love to shop, but finding that we actually love to shop together so much so that both our husbands cringe every time we announce that we are going out because they know we are bound to come home with something, is an unexpected gift.  She tells me not to buy a pair of jeans because my butt looks "gi-normous" in them, and I tell her off when I think her eyebrows are not "put on right."  And it was a big step for me that I was able to tell her just recently that she was a major pain in the ass when she first arrived here a year ago.  

She admits that she still has a lot of growing up to do.  What she doesn't know is, she reminds me a little of myself when I was her age, but at the same time, she lets me see the grown-up that I've become.

I Voted (But Not for Corrupt Politicians)

I've never beeen a die-hard American Idol fan, but tonight, for the first time, I called in my vote — two votes actually, one from me and one from the husband (I "borrowed" his cellphone).  

I was already here from Season 3 to present.  I didn't vote during the Diana De Garmo/Fantasia Barrino face-off because I didn't care which one won.  I didn't love or hate either of them enough to spend time, money and energy to vote.  For Season 4, I loved Carrie Underwood and Bo Bice equally, so I felt I should be fair and not cast my vote.  With the Soul Patrol fever catching the nation, I knew Katherine McPhee didn't stand a chance against Taylor Hicks in Season 5.  Besides, I wanted anyone to win, anyone except Taylor Hicks.  That was hardly a great reason to vote for Katherine, although I still think she's gorgeous and that she'd sell more albums than Taylor ever would.

Tonight, I was ready to do a Carrie/Bo neutral stance.  But Jordin's voice, her dazzling smile, and her young and vibrant presence on stage had me make a mad scramble for my cellphone to vote for her.  I find her to be such a beautiful young woman, so much so that when I ran across a blog that described her size as "gigantic," I felt a vein throb in anger.

I was gonna go meet with a couple of friends tonight, but I'm glad I stayed in and watched the finals.  I am ready to applaud when they announce Jordin Sparks as the new American Idol tomorrow night.  And if not, well, those two votes are still well worth it.    

"Sano"

Although I've spent most of my growing-up years and adult life in Cebu, I will always be a Boholana.  And nothing reminds me more of my place of origin than that group of people over at Stockton, California, where a whole community of Boholanos breathe not only everything Boholano, but everything Filipino — from biko to Wowowee on the TFC channel, inun-unan to going gaga over Martin Nievera's concert.

We lived with my tita and her family for 4 months when we first got here, so the husband and I inherited all their friends and relatives in that part of California.  When we go there for a visit or for a gathering, we are always met with a cacophony of greetings and lots of hugging.  By now we've gotten used to their unique brand of humor, their way of conversing which is, to say the least, almost like being in a fish market.  There's lots of shouting.  If you close your eyes, you'd think that these people are sitting far across each other.  Everyone wants to say something; everyone wants to be heard.  And without meaning to, I join the fray.  I actually lost my voice after one of these gatherings last weekend.

At least I got to meet a "sano" of mine, Luke Mejares, formerly of the South Border band.  He's here with his wife Inger and daughter Akisha. They're both down-to-earth people, very laid-back, no airs at all.  Not that anyone ever has the right to have airs.  But if not for the fact that he was bringing with him a box of his newly launched CD, one would never think he's anything but a regular Bol-anon.  Oh, except for those beautiful brown eyes.  He was very gracious, indulging every request for a song or for pictures.  He almost didn't take the $10 I handed over for a copy of his CD, but I insisted.  And then he jokingly said, "Pangpalit ug gatas."  He will soon be a new daddy to baby boy Jamal.

When we left, the party was still in full swing.  Two weeks from now, when my voice shall have recovered, we go mingle again with my fellow Bol-anons for another gathering of food, fun, conversation and perhaps, a viewing of Wowowee.

She’s 17 and He’s into Beatboxing

America finally got it right.  Melinda Doolittle is out and two of the freshest talents remain — Jordin Sparks and Blake Lewis.  My money is on the former, but I wouldn't mind too if Blake wins.  

Don't get me wrong.  Melinda is good, very good.  She has a great voice and she has been the most consistent among all the contestants.  Week after week, she never failed to hit the right note with her songs and with the judges.  But as we have learned from years of watching the show, a terrific voice does not make one a sure star.  One has to have that X-factor, that "it," that star quality.  Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood clearly have it.  The same cannot be said of the other winners — Ruben Studdard, Fantasia Barrino, and Taylor Hicks.  I mean, really, where are they now?  

I don't mean to be cruel.  America, after all, voted for them.  But as I said, this time around, America finally got the final two right.

Shuffle-Happy

It's small, and it clips anywhere!  

I've always loved music and I've always wanted to carry it with me wherever I go.  I had an mp3 player before but at 512mb, it only stored about 60 songs.  I soon grew tired of it.  It didn't help that I wasn't too crazy about uploading new songs every now and then, just to keep it fresh y'know.  

I've never been a big fan of iPods, not because they're not spiffy — because they are — but because I am not willing to shell out hundreds of dollars for one.  Besides, portability has always been an issue with me.  I am not very familiar with iPod accessories, all I know is that I have to buy something to keep it attached to my body.  When I found out about the iPod second-generation shuffle, I was thrilled!  Not only does it cost a fraction of the price of the other models, it is also small and clips anywhere — on one's shirt, jeans pocket, purse, etc.  And at 1 gig, it can hold a maximum of 240 songs, enough to keep things interesting.  I don't care for a screen; I know the titles of all my favorite songs by heart.  And I don't mind that I can't carry my pictures with me or that I can't play games or watch movies while I'm on the go; I am never still enough to have time for that (well, except maybe when I board a plane for home, in which case I think I'll just spend the 12 hours sleeping).      

So I am loving my little silver almost-square of an audio player, paying equal tribute to Fiona Apple and Zsa-Zsa Padilla.   

Do or Die

It's only been a month and some days since I last wrote here, but already it feels like forever.  

There are days when I feel like everything I am about to say or do, or the things I am feeling, are too mundane, too trivial to justify putting them down on paper or in this case, stringing them into words for people to read.  What can I say, my life is as exciting as a door knob.  When the high point of your day is making perfect panini sandwiches on your newly acquired panini grill set, you know you need to re-evaluate where your life is heading.  I have had too much time on my hands, have chalked up too many hours on the internet doing research, have soaked in too many mind-numbing yoga exercises on TV all in the name of relaxation, and still I am where I was when I single-mindedly declared I wanted a year off to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life:  undecided.  At 34, that is not a nice place to be in.  And at 34, it is not natural for someone who once thought she could take the world by storm by taking up law and one day becoming a lady judge, to be weighed down by fears and insecurities.

So I am giving myself an ultimatum.  By July, I will either have a job or should be preparing for school.

I owe it to myself — and the husband — to be interesting again.

It’s Been 48 Years

[Enters site.  Peers around.]

It's been quiet around here, hasn't it?

Will post something soon.

Promise.

All Things Warm

I love all things warm.

That night he asked me to be his girl.

Reclaiming My Waist and My Butt

How I lost my waist and my butt is a long story.  It was sometime between my 30th and 32nd.  Somewhere between the thyroid illness and the misguided belief that I could still eat and drink with abandon, despite the years marching on.

It was while I wasn't looking.

But I am waging a war to reclaim what is rightfully mine:  a rockin' body.  My breasts will always be small.  My ankles will never be as shapely.  My legs have stopped growing where I wished they would go on for miles.  But by god, I will have my waist and my butt back.

Just you wait and see. 

I’m Not Sad, I Swear

It's official:  Everyone I know is pregnant.

Well, maybe not everyone. 

But this, reading my high school barkada's blog that she's 8 months pregnant with her second child after months of not hearing from her, another high school batchmate blissfully recalling her first pregnancy while in the throes of her second as well, and finally, insanely beautiful pregnant pictures of another high school classmate splashed all over her just put up Multiply site (and yes, it's her second too). 

It's when a girl of 6 climbs up to me, asking to be carried, and her mom half jokingly says (and the others chime in):  D, don't do that.  You're too heavy for Tita J.  Mataktak nya ang iyang uterus.  It's when I know they're all rooting for me, and at the same time, worried for me.

I am not usually jealous.  And I still do have ambivalent feelings about being a mom sometimes.  But there are times, oh yes, there are times when I just want to hold a baby's face to mine and smell its sweet baby breath.

I don't know where this comes from, as all I've been watching are magician movies (The Illusionist and The Prestige). And all I've been dreaming about in my sleep are cat murders.

Just Because

There are days when I get it real bad for bread.  The smell of it, the doughy consistency of it, the crunch when you bite into its crusty exterior and the pillowy softness of its insides.  

Today is such a day.  

I bought a big loaf of freshly baked french bread (still warm in its brown paper bag) and one lemon pepper rotisserie chicken.  I took out my bread knife and tried to cut the bread into pieces but I ended up tearing big chunks of it instead and stuffing my mouth with its crusty goodness.  And in between, I hacked away ample pieces of the chicken and let the tasty and moist meat dance in my tongue.  Just because I felt like chicken and bread today.

Mr. Butler Is Everywhere

On a lighter note, I saw somebody today that totally reminded me of Gerald Butler (or is my mind just tricking me into thinking it?).

Gawd, I have to see him again.  Tomorrow. 

Yes, tomorrow.  

At the gym.

Back For Good

I went to a far-away place (inside myself) and realized this is home.

And my cellphone went with me.  Unbeknownst to me, my phone has been unable to send or receive text messages.  So there I was thinking I just wasn't getting any messages from anyone, and so has taken to leaving the phone in the bedroom, in silent mode, while I scampered about the house, or took walks, or went to the gym, entertained guests and all that jazz.  To those who've called and left voice mail messages, and whom I've texted back (telling them I didn't hear my phone ring and will get back to them soon) and not gotten anything back and believed they'd just been busy with their lives too, my apologies.  

On my quest for a passable summer bod (for all those tank and tube tops), I am happy to report that the husband and I have gone back to the gym and that I may have lost 1 pound as a result.  Hahaha!  Not a lot to brag about but it's something.

Today, it rained buckets.  Instead of getting all sad about it though, like I tend to, I welcomed it by getting under the covers with the husband.  The cool air the rain brought provided much relief from the heat we've been getting lately.  Spring officially "sprung" today but we've had sunshine and cloudless blue skies for weeks now.  Beautiful weather, really.  Perfect for long drives and picnics.

Movies I watched lately:  300 (Gerald Butler, where have you been all my life?  haha!) and Casino Royale on DVD (Daniel Craig is perfect as the new James Bond, I have to agree, despite my earlier protests that no one, and I mean no one, could take Pierce Brosnan's place).   

So yes, I am back.  For good, this time.