life is one LARGE pizza

Nothing beats ordering pizza on a night when a million things invade your thoughts and somehow you've run out of ideas what to sauté, scald and scorch next for dinner. So we got this laaarge pizza with laaarger attitude- garnished with Sicilian meats- pepperoni, Italian sausage and spicy salami. As Homer would say: ahhhaahaahh..... pizzzzaaa....!

I guess it's Ernesto causing a slight spiky commotion in the air last night. Uneasiness, a wrinkle of tizzy hang like a snippet of bad spirit. I guess humans, too, feel the raw peril of an incoming storm. We attended our building's open Board meeting, which was idiotically held in the nearby elementary school gymnasium for reasons only the butterball acting like a moronic impatient teenager member of the Board knew. She insisted it was noisy to have the Board meeting in the lobby or the party room. As if the residents come tumbling and crowing each moment down the lobby.

The members of the Board acted so dispassionately, so imperceptively towards each item on their agenda. They couldn't wait to move the motion to be discussed "on the next meeting". Why serve the Board when you cannot commit to dissertate all issues??! In my opinion, it was the height of hypocrisy and idiocy that was displayed last night.

My head felt like bursting. Bursting with ire and dismay. Can I blame it to Ernesto?

The bad air hovered for a while, creeping sorely past midnight. There was always that dull ache that you feel. But a warm back against mine, a hand to hold, a slight murmur from the one I love calms and sends me off to sleep.

Outshining the horrendous rain and wind Ernesto brought are - books to read, pictures of Trevor and Katie to look at, warm blankets, piles of magazines to read, a crossword to puzzle out tonight, and of course- à la Homer Simpson drooling-worthy large pizza.... The nasty storm still can't wipe out smiles and warm hearts. I'm glad.

another recipe from a (mad)housewife

My newest recipe!!!

You need:

beef brisket, cut 1-inch thin slices (around 1 cup)
2 tbsp rice wine
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp rice vinegar
dash of pepper and garlic powder

half a can diced tomato (garlic and olive oil-seasoned)
½ cup julienned green and orange (or red) bell pepper
chopped onions
1 ½ tbsp soy sauce, mixed with ½ tsp dark brown sugar
1 tbsp chopped ginger

How to make it:

Marinate beef brisket in rice wine, soy sauce, vinegar with dash of pepper and garlic powder for around 30 minutes.

In a small round pan, sauté ginger and onions in 1 tbsp vegetable oil.
Add diced tomato with little of its juices.
Add and press bell peppers on to the mixture, avoid stirring it vigorously.
Add the soy sauce mixture.
Let it cook until juices are seeped up and it starts a light fizz.
Set aside the mixture.
Stir fry the marinated brisket in 1/2 tbsp vegetable oil including the marinade in medium fire for around 5 minutes.
Place the stir-fry brisket in a platter, then top with the tomato/bell pepper mixture.
Enjoy with freshly-cooked white rice.

Yum. Yum. Yum.

life is one HUGE problem

Life is barraged with problems. As others would put it- life is laced with untold challenges. These whole slew of challenges, as we are constantly cajoled, make us stable and sagacious. And after defeating each challenge in life, we grow stronger and shaped up, thus making us personally triumphant.

The two kinds of problems which stir us up the most are: the unexpected and the anticipated. But I think it's all in matter of perspective. Life's problems are handled otherwise in various levels in life. As we grow older, it becomes more complicated. I remember my biggest distress in high school was the missing Beadle notebook. I had been the class beadle all my high school life. And at the end of each grading period (quarter), the beadle notebook was always missing. Therefore making me a nervous wreck- our advisers refused to sign my clearance sheet, coupled with their chastising why I can't seem to keep a watchful eye on the notebook. I suffered too many sleepless nights and upset stomach, plus a guilt-ridden feelings of hopelessness because of it.

Thinking and looking back at it now, I can only think how easy life was when I was younger. My biggest problem that time was incomparable to the real tests in life I have experienced. If only life's challenge was only about beadle notebooks, no? We might just be dancing our way in glee into the garden of Eden. But then again, life is not a marshmallow-showered dream.

When I heard my boss early this afternoon spew out dreadful words - numbers, along with her calculations, percentages, variances and what-nots to me in front of her whiteboard, I knew I had the biggest problem. I feel like falling into a snake pit. One of the things I despise the most- numbers, and I am being shoved right smack into it. I don't know the feeling of literally and physically being kicked into a pile of an unmentionable dirt, but I feel just like that. Now that- is a huge problem.

Life is composed of little and big problems. I have lots of them. Heaps. Oodles. Barrels of obstacles. But I try, oh-God how I try so hard to look the other way.

When I pore over these kinds of difficulty, heartache, dilemma I just think about other problems out there. Because other people have more ghastly, despondent problems than me. And I'm not in cat's pajamas to complain, and I am not egged on to give up. Sometimes, other people have no advantage to make a choice, whereas, I have. I look through things that way.

Life is hard. But life is NOT all about problems. Life is much more- discovery, learning, articulation, experiencing, connection with others, joys, love..... Problems are just like an itch here and there, a bump here and there, or maybe an occasional sprinkle of pain, but never the end, sum and substance of everything.

signs I'm getting old

* i think noisy teenagers are a big abomination
* i start counting sugar and sodium content in every package
* cholesterol and osteoporosis has suddenly become really scary
* i'm not amused by what I see inside Teen Vogue anymore
* i start getting nostalgic when I see movies that I've seen back in college
* the songs and bands I like are sikat way back in 1996
* the last teen-oriented show I've watched on TV was Dawson's Creek
* i don't know what's on Top 40 anymore
* i can live without MTV (I thought I can watch it FOREVER)
* all-day malling is not too appealing anymore
* i start watching what I eat
* driving fast scares the bat out of me
* i thought I could stay up as late as 3 a.m. but- I can't
* i get backaches every now and then

At least, I'm still asked for my ID when I order margarita ;)

here's a funny one:

WHEN I AM AN OLD CAT
I shall wear a diamond collar and leave my footprints on white couches.
I shall drink my cream with a touch of brandy and spit out my vitamins.
I shall sit on the laps of dog people just to irritate them.
I shall nap on top of the neighbor's petunias and perch on top of birdbaths and grow charmingly chubby.
But for now I must tolerate the dog and use my litter box and not sharpen my claws on the sofa, so no one can doubt the truth that cats are superior to dogs.
But every once in a while I wonder if I should be naughty now and then and nip a few toes, so my humans won't be too shocked when suddenly I become an old cat and start to wear a diamond collar.

one last summer fling

We headed for the beach last Saturday. It was a long, kind of uneventful three-hours drive to Ocean City in MD. It was a bright, sunny day and sans Latino people wearing shorts and T-shirt shrieking in the waves, it was a perfect day at the beach- one last summer fling before it gets colder and we start piling up clothes.

Our friend Darko's mother who came from Bosnia, who told us people in their country wear just the bikini bottom or nothing else (young and old alike) on the beach, was still dumbfounded why people bathe in the beach with so much clothing. We told her common folks back home also swim with pants and shirts on (hehehe). Anyway, the part of the beach we were in was particularly unsightly with the fully-clothed gente (I guess somebody heard from somebody that the whole raza was heading to the beach that day), and we saw one big family having a tailgate party at the parking lot complete with beach umbrella pa ha- and they were right next to the beach! I just thought what an idiotic idea it was camping out right beside their car in the sizzling hot parking lot and the beach was five steps away.

Anyway, it was my second time in OC. Last year (the date was Aug.23 I still could remember) Darko's nephew Stefan was still afraid to get his feet on the sand. But this year, he was playing and crawling on the sand. But he is still afraid with the water. Maybe next year, there will be progress ;) I packed ham and egg sandwiches for us, however, Darko's mother insisted we eat their quintessential Bosnian beach outing fare- Bosnian bread as big as David's fist, with chicken pâte, Laughing Cow cheese (hehee), homemade paprika and some kind of meatloaf. The paprika is good I loved it. Back home it would have been sinuglaw and isda, plus saging.

It was so filling that we left our baon untouched. We bought puto from the Filipino store the day before to show it to Janet's parents to make them laugh (because puto is something very bad in Spanish, haha), but they weren't able to come with us. There were carnival rides and games right next to the beach, and David wanted so much to ride the sling shot. However, it was rather expensive ($20 per rider) for just a 5-minute shot up in the air. However, he and Darko rode the roller coaster (it was cheaper, only $3.20 for a 5-minute ride, hahaha). I didn't dare try those rides at all!

The water was a little cold and the waves were mean! They're huge and really strong it knocked me out twice and left me scrambling in the sand like a discarded rag doll. What a sight I must have been. David was laughing at me I was certain I looked daffy. Fortunately no bikini top or bottom were untangled during that shuffle.

On our way home we dropped by a dinner buffet at this Chinese restaurant. They had a huge number of food selection. I heard one diner exclaim to another, they even have pizza! And much to my delight, they had sushi! And it wasn't bad at all! We were laughing at Darko because he complained he felt sick- he ate ice cream after he ate steamed mussels. :) It was good food, however, it was insanely expensive. Lesson we learned that day? Never go to a dinner buffet ever again. Only lunch buffets from now on ;)

Before heading home, they played mini-golf. The air was cool and it was one of those relaxing early evenings. It was actually fun and we had a good time. I could say it was one great outing. And then the next day, as if the strenuous beach trip wasn't enough, we met a friend to play tennis. Well, he "tried" to play tennis with us. I was only chasing after the ball the whole time. We played until it drizzled. What a great day.

The days are getting shorter and it won't be long until it gets nippy. David was so determined to exercise that he bought a pair of tennis rackets so that we can play. He made me promise to get serious into playing. I gave him my promise. We'll play on Sunday afternoons, and if the mood (my mood) permits- on Wednesday afternoon after work, too. It could be fun. We have three or four months to play until it becomes too cold. Our last summer fling! And then we could find another 'sport' to do. Maybe we'll get the scrabble set we've been planning to have, hehee.

barefoot

I tried going barefoot at work this afternoon. I've tried it a couple of times before, and I found it, after an initial outrage, liberating. After traipsing for hours on end in my strappy, high-heeled footwear, I took the inevitable and walk around my turf barefoot. I felt free, heedful, cozy.

To feel the coarse texture of the carpet is surprisingly relaxing. It's massaging my bare feet. And if I allow myself not to be distracted by the fact that a number of shoes are also roving on the same floor, it could be really invigorating. But I also have to remind myself that these floors are vacuumed each night, so it's not really as horrid as going barefoot on the concrete or tiled floors back in 'Pinas. Going barefoot reminded me of my mom bellowing if I try to "forget" slipping back into my slippers when I was a little girl. She would scare me that millions of germs would attack my feet and eat it all up.

And I'm sure mom was not phonying up with me. But I guess there's a kind of freedom that is just so tempting and urgent, like the way I am feeling at this moment. I was aghast when I saw a couple of girls here at work walking around the whole floor barefoot. Now I have discovered how great it is, I won't impugn this offbeat habit.

It's good once in a while, to walk around with little less chains, less encumbrance. It's good to feel the grainy, cold base. It's like letting loose, say what you have to say, do what you have to do. Have that luring moment to step around feeling the ground on your bare soles once, twice, several times! Make it a habit from once in a while to be free, to be connected to the ground we're walking on.

Saturday's "firsts"

Last Saturday was a day of "firsts". It was the first time David woke up ahead of me, and made sausage omelette for brunch. It was almost 11 am and I refused to get up from bed. He said he cooked because I was still sleepy. He's the sweetest, don't you think?

And there was a cool breeze blowing, too, last Saturday for the first time- after weeks of searing heat. It was a little cool for midsummer, truly a welcome respite! And it was also the first time that we visited our local library. After a year in this area and countless promises to go check out the library, we finally did it. The library was a short stroll away from our house - too near to drive, just enough for a casual walk. The day was perfect for an impromptu walk- placid light gusts, bright sunshine, quiet scenery past a park entrance, a doggie park and the most charming townhouses we admire.

At the library I found a book which delighted me so, and I am currently reading it. It's a suspense novel from Mary Higgins Clark. I read three of her novels years ago when I was still in school and there was nothing more pressing to do than bury my nose in a book, and it was such a regret I never had the chance to read more of her books. She is such an efficient story-teller, I should say. Her stories are simple, absorbing and straightforward. Although I would love to read books with abstruse plots from time to time, what I am looking for right now is something uncomplicated, a light read to squeeze in between my all but hectic schedule.

I had promised myself to read more books. The last one I tried to read prior to this one from Mary Higgins Clark, No Place Like Home, was Love in the Time of Cholera. After reading a quarter of the book, I just said to myself I can't continue to read it right now. I have to abandon it, albeit temporarily and save myself from an apparent heartache. However, I vow to finish reading it in the near future. I have to, and I would love to.

Have you any thoughts to share on Love in the Time of Cholera?

I'm halfway through with No Place Like Home and so I asked David to get me another book from the library when he went back there yesterday. I intend to finish the book I am currently reading by Tuesday night, and then the second book by weekend. Sounds like a case of biting off more than I could chew? Let's see.

After the library on Saturday, we went to the mall to look for shoes for David and use up the Gap gift card David had given me last month (an extra birthday present). For the first time- I did not find anything that I like! Unbelievable, right? I've always liked their tops and outerwear, but somehow I didn't find anything that caught my fancy that day. And I don't want to pick something just for the sake of picking something. David used to ask me what do I like? What am I looking for? And I always tell him, I'll know what I like when I see it. I guess me and my dresses are in a constant flair for love at first sight. So much like what happened to my black stretch skirt and garnet shirt I picked out in less than ten minutes the other week.

But we didn't leave empty-handed. David found a nice pair of khakis and a broken-in shirt with a very seductive price. And he bought me a sweater, too, which I won't be able to wear until fall anyway. Talk about thinking ahead :)

my latest Tuesday dread

Every Tuesday afternoon at 2:30, I attend an hour and a half meeting with six other people at work. It's a case disposition meeting, since recently I was asked to join the committee. Ever since, I'm not an outstanding meeting attendee. I must confess, I feel bored and impatient right away. So attending this weekly meeting, aside from three other meetings I need to be at is really tedious for me.

However, I must say such meetings lay bare to you the different facets of individuality. Therefore, such is an avenue to know more other people. Knowing them means recognizing who's the crank, who's nuts and who's a creepo :) Just kiddin'. Meetings can show you who's Type A, who's Type B and who's in between.

My Tuesday troupe, like any other out there, is one typically oddball bunch. There's one boss who wrinkles her forehead, looking askance when somebody speaks. I suppose it's the huh-what-on-earth-is-your-point look. There's one who is perpetually forgetful, and there's the one who monopolizes the discussion. There's the harbinger, and a follower. And one who rarely speaks. I guess it's obvious which oddball is me :)

Right now I don't exactly enjoy these meetings as much as I want to. I guess I still haven't acclimatized graciously to the twists and joys of this inevasible thing called "meeting". Maybe someday I will.

It's good to bring a pad to doodle on while meetings are progressing. However, never ever come unprepared just in case the boss, or somebody from the oddballs throw you a question. Say your piece, and then keep quiet. And look out for brewing tension that may happen (sometimes, just sometimes).

Friendship Day

In celebration of Friendship Day (August 6th), I’d like to make an ode to my best-est girl friends, who were with me through zits, storms, gaps, the best and the worst, and yet remained tight and true all these years…… Hey Roselle, didn’t you write a poem about friendship (specifically about our high school clique) in a workshop you attended one summer before senior year? :)

To my favorite girls, cheers! You make the world a happier place.

Roselle

My best bud for the longest time…. She’s as crazy, as easygoing and as curious as I am. We have the best time together, sharing a desk, inseparable all throughout elementary and high school, sharing the same interests, and having the same idea of “fun”. She never fails to write letters, sends postcards and keeps me updated all the time. Through good times and bad, she’s my best gal.

Lia, Bonna and Farrah

My constant companions and my bestfriends in college. They’re the best bunch. Coffee, tea, McDonald's, malling, never-ending conversations (mostly the same topic blabbed about over and over and over again), Lia's famous baked spaghetti and brownies, laughter, tears, daydreams, spats (minor and all sorts), highs and lows - we've shared them all. They're the people whom I always wanna see on good days, bad days, lazy days, perky days, special days, ordinary days, any days. They're my powerpuff girls :)

Faith, Mei, January, Karen and Fevi

One of the nicest bunch of girls in the whole world! They never 'excluded' the oldies (us) in their clique. They never forget us on their parties and get-togethers, and their kris kringle every Christmas. I love them! They're cheery, nice, sweet, and they're the kind whom you can never ever dislike. They're supportive and never judgmental.

Otette

The most good-humored, good-natured, zappy, zingy girl I know! She's always looking into the bright side of things. And her infectious laugh (and killer dimples) are inspiring. And one great friend, too. Loves her friends, warts and all, no matter what.

Taryn

Jovial. Loyal. Kind. Smart. And very high-principled. And very lovable, too. She's the kind of girl who never digs up the past just to make fun of you. I always think of her as proper, sweet, reliable and beautiful inside out. She has great insights on relationships, too.

Jody

A delightful, talkative and funny girl! She never runs out of stories, funny anecdotes and quips, and she claims she knows ALL artistas old and new. She's a great shopping (and window-shopping) companion, too. On the four years that we've worked together, our office was in constant uproar because of her funny stories, silly antics and endless chattering. We spend 5 minutes eating our lunches so that we can catch up with our talkfest during lunchbreak. She's the nicest friend who always had the most meaningful advices to give.

Mom, and Bub

My great loves back home. My bestfriend, and the brat who never fails to make me smile. Love them heaps.

Happy Friendship Day!!!

wanderlust

Our recent 3-day jaunt in the Outer Banks, North Carolina was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. It was not exactly the typical tourist summer pursuit - the beach (even though to stay in those pastel-colored, 3-story oceanfront beach homes was to die for), but our main purpose of chosing the Outer Banks was our lighthouse hunt.

The Outer Banks is a tiny stretch of islands on the northeastern coast of North Carolina. It was unconventional, picturesque and historic. Back in time, it was a pirates lair. And there are amazing lighthouses, and the Wright Brothers Memorial is also there. I liked the feel of the islands. It is tiny that past some stretches of highway, it is edged by sand and you can practically see water on both sides. And the whole place was dotted with huge, fantastic-looking beach homes.

Our first stop was the Currituck Beach Lighthouse, up in the northern tip of the Outer Banks. It was made of bricks, and we climbed all 214 steps to the top. We were sweating like pigs and our knees were wobbly by the time we got to the top. But the fantastic views were exceptional. The drive up there was scenic and heartwarming, past little towns with pretty names like Duck, Sanderling, and Southern Shores, and even prettier street names.

The Wright Brothers Memorial was located at the town called Kill Devil Hills. I found the name queer and amusing. According to David, the place was a lair for pirates before, and there on the hills (which were actually sand dunes), they drink moonshine (an illegally distilled whiskey) and apparently it was so strong it could kill the devil. :) What a lovely story, hehe. The Visitors Center cum museum was impressive. We visited the exact site of that fateful first flight on Dec. 17, 1903.

We visited four lighthouses, and climbed two of them. By far, my favorite was the Bodie Island Lighthouse. I liked it so much because it looked so forlorn. I always have this theatrical notion about lighthouses- forsaken, somber, distant. And the Bodie Island Lighthouse, especially on that gloomy day we visited, was exactly like that. But the prettiest was the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse- tallest in America. Its spiral stripes looked truly impressive. We also climbed the lighthouse, and we had the most spectacular view of the Cape Hatteras National Seashore and the Atlantic Ocean. The fourth lighthouse we visited was the Ocracoke Island Lighthouse. It was located on a tiny, tiny island of Ocracoke (a 40-minute ferry ride further down south from Cape Hatteras, and so so tiny you can drive to the other end in a matter of minutes. They have only one highway, by the way). The lighthouse was only 75 feet tall, and we found her inacessible.

We found a lovely, lovely deserted beach near the Cape Hatteras lighthouse. David loved it so much, he said he could stay there forever. Until retirement? Nope, he said. Maybe a month. It was so quiet, peaceful and relaxing just gazing at the deep blue Atlantic ocean. We absolutely loved it.

We stayed in a small, inexpensive oceanfront motel in Kill Devil Hills. We call it "Psycho motel". It kinda reminded us of the Bates motel in the movie Psycho, hehee. But luckily, there was no psycho in the shower :)

It was an amazing three-day mini-vacation. We took a different route on the way back home, and made a quick stopover in Virginia Beach. Then we took the Chesapeake Bay Bridge which was alluring beyond words. David took tons of pictures on our vacation. He had an amazing time.

Here are his pictures: www.flickr.com/photos/dng
(click OBX)

i miss coffee

For several occasions now, I am being tempted by the smell of the brewing coffee in the office dining hall. Well, tempted might be such a terrible word. I am being stirred-up - reminded, that is, of something that was so part of my whole being not so long ago.

I was a huge coffee-drinker before. Yup, was is the word. I used to drink gazillion cups of coffee until September 13, 2005. And then I quit. Since then, not a single drop of caffeine is in my sytem.

I was the kind of girl who couldn't possibly start the day without coffee. It has become my indispensable excuse of dallying all morning routines - not until I have my coffee. All my girl friends are huge coffee drinkers, too. A pot of coffee plus never-ending conversations are enough to make me and the girls cheerful and complacent.

Why did I quit? Mostly for health reasons. Apparently, years of coffee-drinking and foolish attachment to it are not intended for me. My hubby had been admonishing me for a long time to end the coffee subservience. But I continued to declare my undying loyalty to coffee, anyway. Until the doctor told me so.

I thought it was going to a difficult thing to do. Like stories I hear all about quitting smoking being the hardest thing to fulfill. So much like ending a paperback-worthy fiery love affair. But it turned out to be painless and uncomplicated, after all. I felt better, happier and unbelievably restored. My vital motivation was NOT to get sick. I hate being sick.

But the irresistible and tranquilizing aroma of coffee will always be one of my favorite scents. The smell of citrus, butter on toast, vanilla liqueur, freshly-brewed coffee are few of my favorite smells.

So everytime I smell coffee brewing here at work, or being greeted by its potent aroma upon entering a café - I will always be reminded of my love affair with coffee not too long ago. I miss coffee. But not too much, really. It was good while it lasted.

seven

We just celebrated our seventh year as a couple. That's eighty-four months of togetherness, two thousand five hundred-fifty five days of bliss. And we've been married for nineteen months and thirteen days (out of those seven years). I like to remember (and count) the days that David and I are together. I am an avid counter (hehe). People we know are amused when they ask me how long had we been dating before we got married, and I tell them- five years and five months. They say, I still remember now. But after a few years I would abandon the counting and just let the days pass by. I hope not!

I have plenty of fond memories of those seven years. On our first three years, we used to go out (all spiffy and dressed up) for dinner at the end of each month to celebrate our "birthday", complete with flowers (from him), and love letters (mostly from me). When he was away for a while in late 2002, we would email each other and call each other a lot. But it wasn't until the second time that he left in middle 2003 that I promised to write him everyday. And I did write him emails (note that it's in a plural form, hehe)everyday, rain or shine, come hell or high water.

And I also send him cards each month, (meticulously calculated so that he would receive it on the 30th, which is our birthday). I must have bought all the mushy Hallmark cards out there. Well, maybe except for those icky Tagalog-themed "Para sa Aking Minamahal" cards, hehee. And aside from those, we would send each other text messages day and night, and chat every Saturday afternoon, and talk on the phone on Sundays (and whenever he can). It was tough. A long-distance relationship is way tougher than any other obstacle. But I'm very proud we managed to get through it. It's one great feat.

The first time he went away, we were apart for six months, then he left again for five months. After that, we got engaged and then we were apart for a year. So basically, we planned our whole wedding through emails. And then barely two weeks after we got wed, he left and we weren't together again until five months later.

But now, we're practically glued to the hip for one year and two months. These are the greatest times of our lives, yet! Now we're seven. Hurray for seven years! I love DNG!

a pipe dream

Everyone has a favorite fantasy. And this is mine: one day embark on a year-long trip with the hubby and the kids in an exotic/historic place (top choices are Patagonia region in south Argentina, Salzkammergut in Austria, and the Karakoram in Pakistan), taking millions of photographs, explore the culture, study the people and write all about it à la National Geographic article.

I was so impressed with the two families I read about in my old National Geographic magazine- photographer husbands and writer wives and their kids leaving their home and setting out to a strange foreign place. One family joined a salt caravan in the Hindu Kush mountain range in Pakistan/Afghanistan with their 5 year-old son, and the other went to a really remote Gimi village in Papua New Guinea with their 5 year-old daughter and lived there for a year. They studied the culture and had the greatest adventure of their lives!

I was so enticed by it I have this long-time fervent dream to undertake a trip in the same manner. Travel into a notable but not a tourist-exploited place, traverse though a remarkable route not taken by a regular tourist, meet the people, eat the food, explore and experience the culture, and write a detailed, entertaining account of the whole adventure.

Fantastic. This is my everlasting fantasy. However, I'm not sure if we're cut out for such a rugged, bold and spirited adventure. For one thing, I'd lug a million things and I need a proper bathroom. While my hubby can be game with just his camera and an anti-insect spray, he would probably despise me for ALL the things I NEED to bring along. And probably we wouldn't last- we'd miss our bed by the second night :)

As fantastic but vain hope as this can be, I'm holding on to it. It is much too marvelous to be ever abandoned. I guess I am still hoping one day we could venture out something as impressive as my fantasy. But I believe we could start with something manageable at this time. Like going on a lighthouse hunt in the Outer Banks, North Carolina.

For weeks we've been thinking about it and finally decided to go. And after being threatened by an impending storm heading towards the Carolinas yesterday, we've breathed easy today knowing the storm veered towards another direction. We wouldn't want to go to on our trip drenched in a storm.

We plan to drop by the first lighthouse in Corolla and hopefully we could go down to the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse in Buxton. Exploring the Outer Banks would be a wonderful adventure for us. It's historic, close to nature and a great opportunity to explore new things. So many photographs to take, so many fascinating stories to write.

We're so excited about it. Maybe after this trip, we can step up to something more energetic and elaborate. And who knows? Maybe one day, we could really go on my fantasy trip. It would be one spectacular tale to share..........

the window

The tall, narrow glass window at the far end of our bedroom is a wellspring of so many reverie and latenight ponderings. The old window is covered with flimsy cream curtains, because I am a curtain woman. It was one of the major decisions when we first moved in- my husband would have preferred blinds, but I chose curtains. During the day, I open the curtains a little and floods of light come in, washing the whole room with bright sunshine. And then at night, it reflects the lights from outside, giving it a tranquil, by oneself mood.

On quiet early summer evenings, I sit on the edge of the bed and I could see top of the trees and the clear blue skies through the old window. And when in bare feet, leaning close to the window, sometimes pressing the side of my head against the window pane, I see the street below, with cars scurrying in hushed urgency. From our fifteenth-floor spot, I could see the world below, and heavens above from that tiny cranny of this old window.

Each night, before I close my eyes into deep sleep, the window somehow illuminates my thoughts and take me somewhere remote and whimsical. The lights seem to dance and the sound from the outside world barely audible. Lying in bed on my back, if I lift my feet it obscures the light and my feet seemed to fit the whole frame. I welcome the unopposed solitude the window unveils.

I have witnessed the seasons change through the window. It was late summer when we moved in. The trees I saw were still green and abundant. Then it changed to bright orange and then to brown. It was such a wonderful, flaming sight. And then, it fell one by one until it was bare. Each wintry day I woke up, and I gazed through the window, I always hoped the trees will be flourishing green again... The warmth and eagerness of spring were arresting as seen through the window . Now it's summer again.

When I step into the bedroom at night, with the soft curtains drawn and aglow with the lamplight, the window seem unassuming. Forlorn. Unimportant. But most of it are untrue. The window, with its simplicity, is a threshold of wonder, hope, joy and boundless freedom.

birthday girls

Last weekend, I shared birthdays with Alexandria, the city. Mine was on Friday and hers was on Saturday, and she was about 228 years older than me ;) It was a happy, eventful birthday for me. It was a sunny day (after two weeks of storms and rains), had an unconventional pineapple upside-down birthday cake, my favorite girl friends wishing me a blissful year, and many surprise greetings from old friends. Plus of course, an affectionate hubby waking up earlier than usual to let me make a wish on my cake, and happy greetings from my mom (and dog) whom I miss so much.

I'm 29- happy, hopeful, better, loved and grateful for the wonderful opportunities.

My goal still is: to make this year better than the past year. I realized, not too long ago, that to have strict rules and pushing your limits as to consummating your ambitions can sometimes bring disillusionment. Which is why I finally made peace with myself. Now I hope for the best, and strive to be happy no matter what.

What made it a wonderful birthday weekend? The company and the simple things cherished with the ones you love.... On Saturday afternoon, David and I strolled and enjoyed the street scenes in Old Town with our mango-passion fruit smoothie and iced latte, spotted a bride and a groom having their photographs taken at the park, felt the damp, newly-cut grass in the park and later joined a multitude of people at the Oronoco Bay park to celebrate Miss Alexandria's birthday.

I'm sure Alexandria had a great birthday, too. A lot of people came to celebrate her big day. There was a symphony orchestra concert in her honor, a huge birthday cake, and the best of them all- a spectacular fireworks display and a thundering cannon overture. What a wonderful way to celebrate two hundred and fifty-seven years of greatness!

Here's to us, looking forward to many more splendid birthday celebrations!

one day more!

Here are morsels of my birthday memories (as far back as 1998; beyond that, those were simply forgotten memories, hehe) I’m not a big party birthday girl, and I am not fond of entertaining and I’d rather celebrate with closest friends and family. Now, isang tulog na lang! I’m a boithday girl again.

1998- went out to dinner at the defunct Pecan Tree café with Farrah and Lilian. Farrah delivered the news that she was pregnant
1999- had a birthday dinner at Bigby’s with friends. Got a huge rag doll present from Lilian
2000- went to dinner with David at Lemon Tree
2001- went to Drew’s first birthday party at the beach. Lilian made me a really sinful, sweet chocolate pie. Later that night, David treated me to dinner at Bigby’s

2002- went to Joaquin’s birthday party at Jollibee. Later David and I hung out at Taza
2003- David left two days before. It was a rainy, rainy day. Got a huge rectangular birthday cake from David’s mom
2004- Had a Spiderman-inspired cake! David’s mom threw me a birthday lunch at their house
2005- Had an Italian birthday dinner. The waiter asked for our IDs when we ordered wine :)

I’m turning 29 tomorrow! Here are parts of the song I love, One Day More from my all-time favorite, Les Miserables:

One day to a new beginning

There's a new world for the winning

There's a new world to be won

Tomorrow we'll discover

What our God in Heaven has in store!

One more dawn

One more day

One day more!

a drizzly day

The weather has gone from toasty to drizzly to rainy. This is the summer of storms and I am wondering when the bad weather's gonna go away. Yesterday, the 4th of July fireworks were threatened by the impending storm. But fortunately, it didn't turn ugly and at around 9:00pm, in time for the fireworks, the sky had cleared up a bit, just enough to see the spectacular displays and away from the torment of looking like a turkey gaping up at the sky choking down on the rainshower! :)

It was a stifling 4th of July- muggy and rainy compared to the previous year. But at least, there was no real storm and it turned out to be not bad at all. Last year, we were at the Capitol watching the concert and waiting for the fireworks spectacle. So this year, since I've been there once, and once is enough, we spent the 4th of July elsewhere- at Darko's place. We went up to their building rooftop at 9:00pm to watch the fireworks in distant DC. And then much later, we lighted up their firecrackers at the park behind their building.

The firecrackers were two bit compared to the shameless, devilish, finger-shattering firecrackers back home, of course (hehe). I'm a little afraid of firecrackers, but seeing how tame it was last night, I managed to hang loose around a bit. The firecrackers back home can well be explosives. Too dangerous.

Darko's adorable nephew, Stefan, was the cutest thing ever. Imagine how thrilled I was when he clung to me while he ignored everyone else. He looked so precious on his oversized onesie. When we were about to leave, I carried him in my arms and asked him if he wants to come home with us. He nodded yes right away! I teased them I wanna take the little boy home, and Darko told me, "good! Bring him back when he's 18!" He never complained when were at the door and heading towards the elevator, he really wanted to come with us home!

Today is a drizzly, then rainy day. I could see the heavy rain pelting down on my window earlier this afternoon. There's a hushed harmony on rainy days. My distinct images on rainy days are warm blankets, the smell of coffee brewing, a muted TV, paper boats racing through a stream of water, wet fallen leaves, the sounds of birds against the quietude after a heavy rain, the trees seemingly standing burdened and still....

But then, I wish there won't be any more rain....

David's surprise birthday

David recently had his birthday, but our friends Darko and Janet hosted a post-birthday suprise party for him last Saturday. Also the night before, we went out for our much-delayed birthday dinner. The reason for these delayed celebrations was the abominable weather the previous week. It had been raining incessantly, and it was too agonizing to even go out in that undesirable weather. So it was wise to move all the gaiety that weekend. David and I went to McCormick & Schmick's, a real swanky seafood restaurant. We haven't really been to a seafood restaurant in a long time, so it was a good decision. We had the greatest time! I had the grilled halibut and he had the seafood platter. It was marvelous.

I only knew about Darko's plan for the surprise party last Thursday. It was so exciting because knowing me, I couldn't contain a secret, so it would be a real test of self-restraint. I did a great job in keeping the secret from him! He absolutely had no idea and he never suspected anything. Earlier that day, we attended a baby shower for an officemate. And since the party wrapped up at 5pm, and the surprise party wasn't happening until 8.30pm, I managed to convince him to go to the mall. Darko's alibi to him was just to watch a movie at their place. I successly got him to linger a little more at the mall before we headed out to the party.

The mall stopover proved to be beneficial for me, too, since he indulged me with a couple of fragrances plus a couple of body lotion. And not to mention an additional red tube top. :) I love my hubby!

And so going up to Darko's place in the elevator, I tried so hard to keep myself from bursting out the exciting secret about to happen. I was worried I looked so smug, and he'd suddenly act suspicious. And so ever-nochalantly, I pushed the doorbell button a thousand times (like we always do, for fun!) and there was Darko, welcoming us (thanks Heavens, he did not make a silly comment like, "look there's nobody here!" like he did to Janet's surprise birthday last year).

And then six friends jumped out from hiding and screamed "surprise" to an obviously surprised David! His first ever suprise party was a hit! It was seconds after that he realized the surprise party was for his birthday, he told me he thought they were just playing a surprise joke with him :)

Darko elaborately prepared the party for him. The whole enchilada- balloons, champagne and beer, grilled chicken, lasagna, gyros and french fries. And there was even an ice cream cake for him! And he got a belated birthday present, a camera tripod from our friend Derek. I guess he was totally taken by surprise by the whole treat.

The night was spent watching Shakira videos, chatting and - babbling about our least-liked officemates, enjoying the food and toasting to David. It was a great, great night spent with friends. And I'm grateful to Darko (the eternal party guy) for taking an extra mile to celebrate David's birthday.

Later we hung out at their balcony eating more gyros and sharing stories about anything. It was a great Saturday night. Happy birthday hubby!

XXIX

I’m hitting 29 years in a week, and I made this list of all the little lessons I’ve learned in life, which took me 29 years to fully understand and accept. When I was 15, I thought I’ve learned all there is to learn in life; when I was 20 I thought I could not do more than what I’ve already done; when I was 25, I knew there was more. Now when I’m turning 29, I know that these lessons I’ve learned the hard way are true and I hope that somehow I could glide through life more smoothly now…

1. It is better to know how to cook your own meals.
2. Math is not the end of the world.
3. You have to learn to trust yourself more.
4. You don’t have to live your life based on the opinions of other people.
5. Throw your hat over the fence.
6. When life gets tough, take it one day at a time.
7. Good health should never be compromised.
8. You appreciate home more after you leave it.
9. You must have clean fingernails and toenails at ALL times.
10. You must not apologize to a friend just because she didn’t get things her way.
11. You must not waste precious time with people who doesn’t care and so full of themselves.
12. Allow yourself a substantial amount of time to resolve all your personal issues.
13. Always follow the rules.
14. The Golden Rule works all the time.
15. It pays to be organized and detail-oriented.
16. Sometimes the easiest way is the stormiest way out.
17. Save for a rainy day.
18. There is always a solution to every problem.
19. Good things happen to those who wait.
20. Never allow myself become frumpy and unkempt.
21. Happiness is a choice and a state of mind.
22. Love yourself more first and foremost.
23. Be open to new ideas and new experiences.
24. Be happy to give a compliment, and be gracious to receive one.
25. Learn and relearn everything in life.
26. Be happy for others.
27. Do what you can and enjoy what you can today, because tomorrow, you might be too old for it.
28. Keep your expectations within reason and your hopes high.
29. Marriage is a wonderful thing.

the case of the bowl set

A friend scoffed at me when she learned I had wanted a bowl set for my birthday. I spoke to her recently and mentioned to her I set my eye on an 8-piece casual china bowl set in an array of colors- mustard, tangerine, lime, blue, maroon, bone, black and ivory. It's so delightful, like Russian nesting dolls, you know, from tiniest to biggest, and I quickly fell in love with it. And even though my birthday was weeks away, my hubby purchased it for me. We went past it at the dining section at the department store, and so much like a case of love at first sight, I told myself and my hubby I have to have it!

And so we lugged my heavy birthday present (sans bows and shiny wrap) happily one afternoon. When I was still in college, I started a collection of pairs of interesting-looking bowls. I only managed to collect three pairs, and somehow it went kaput and gave in to more no-nonsense pursuits.

And then my friend gave me that most interesting remark the other day. She thought it was the oddest and most insincere gift to the female form! She said it wasn't exactly what she's expecting a husband to give on a wife's birthday.

Which got me thinking, am I that domesticated now? Have I become... too housewifely? Have I forgotten all that girly stuff and girlfriend necessities? Have I sunk deeply into the marriage abyss?

The thing is: I am not. I am more than I used to be. My friend told me the expected birthday gift would be, jewelry or a day trip to the spa. I explained to her things change slightly when one is married. In my case, my priorities have switched around a bit. It's because when you have a home to run, and a mortgage to reckon with, I believe it's best to 'acclimatize'.

My friend's argument was, a woman should be a woman no matter what, and her needs and likes should never be compromised. Marriage should not change the things that you get accustomed to. I told her that she would understand my point once she's also married. But she shot back at me that that was precisely why she dislikes marriage and thinks that marriage won't ever work for her.

She has become one of the I-don't-wanna-lose-my-identity-as-a-woman woman. And in her eyes, maybe I have become a lost-behind-husband's-identity kind of woman. But you see, I am not. And I'm not gonna scream at the top of my lungs to insist I am the same person. Because I am still the girly old me- I can't live without hair conditioner, I'd die without my beauty provisions, I still enjoy a long, (scalding) hot shower after my evening chores (a must!), I need to have my nails done before I step out, I love my earrings and my bracelets and necklaces and dream about rubies, pearls and diamond eternity rings. It's the same me. I still take forever to get ready in the morning.

But like I said, things changed just a tiny bit. I don't believe in losing oneself in marriage. I believe it's a partnership, and I believe there's growth in this partnership. The changes I speak of pertains to the drift and the structure of the things that I desire, compared to when I was still single. Maybe I like dining and housewares now, does it mean I am slaughtering my femininity?

I can't speak for every other married woman out there, but I never felt I lost myself in the shadow of my husband. Yeah, I might appear odd to others because of my strange choice of a birthday present. I'd like to be practical. And there's nothing more practical than a fancy, functional bowl set. I'm not gonna berate my husband into giving me a chichi necklace and earrings set just to celebrate and impose my womanhood. I'm comfortable and confident enough to want a humble bowl set for my birthday.

Different strokes for different folks. I can't blame my friend for thinking what an unstylish creatures we are. Maybe she was right, it was not the suitable gift. But then again, the bowl set made me happy and I'd rather stick to bowl set, be happy and be practical than oblige a jewelry birthday present and remain unsatisfied. And I still can't believe how the bowl set sparked a discourse on marriage!

newest recipe

Oh, no! This is shifting into a cooking blog! hehe But I just have to post this newest favorite recipe I had created last night:

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 cup beef brisket, sliced thinly
1 cup fresh baby portabella mushrooms, sliced
dash of garlic powder and seasoned salt
2 tablespoons worcestershire sauce and herbes de provence (for marinade)

Marinate beef brisket thin slices in worcestershire sauce and herbes de provence for 30 minutes. Saute in olive oil until meat is brown. Add portabella mushrooms and stir fry until tender. Season with garlic powder and seasoned salt.

It's that quick and simple. Maybe one day I could come up with a Quickest and Simplest Recipes From A (Previously) Non-cook cookbook, hahaha.

dance event

Last night, David and I went to a fundraising event hosted by CMHS, where we work, called the Multicultural Dance Event. It was a showcase of different dances all over the world. We had a great time. Although at first David predicted nobody would show up, but the Clarendon Ballroom in Arlington was jam-packed by the time the show started at 7pm.

There were complimentary drinks and hors d'oeuvres during the two-hour show. And it happened again, I was asked for my ID when I tried to get some white wine at the bar. We either get a soda, beer or wine for our complimentary drink, and David dared me to ask for some wine at the bar and see if they'd ask for my ID :) Well, they did. And I just settled for a soda anyway. I wanted to take David's white wine, but the bouncer was eyeing us for possible underage drinking, hahaha! As David was going around taking pictures during the show, I feasted on sushi at the bar with an officemate.

The dance presentations were spectacular. Except for the last one, a salsa number where the pair just twirled around like they were drunk and traipsing on the dancefloor. It was quite a dreary performance compared to all other passionate routines of the dancers. I love the Sahara dancers! Their belly dancing and Middle Eastern dances were amazing and impressive! I also love the flamenco! Oh, the dancers were superb. All the footworks and intense rhythms and clapping of the hands, plus their very colorful costumes, was totally astounding.

Other dances include an West African dance, Irish step dance (the kids were cute in their bright and intricate costumes and curly hair), Indian and South Asian dances, Hasidic and Yiddish traditional dance, hip-hop, and other Middle Eastern dances. But the flamenco and the belly dance were the best-applauded performances. The whole show was wonderful. The current Miss Ethiopia emceed the event.

Several people from work were there, and we huddled together around our tiny table, chatting and having fun. We met families and loved-ones of co-workers, too. And in gatherings like this is when you get to more your coworkers beyond snappy lunches, strait-laced meetings and spontaneous idle talks on the hallway. I am loving the experience. It enriches the whole existence.

summer is here!

Summer officially started today! The humidity is making me giddy. But I love this season. There is a torrent of festivals, beach outings, flea markets and lively activities we can enjoy. I love this place, there is so much we can do!

Back home, summer is unofficially marked by the week-long celebration of the Semana Santa. By that time, temperature creeps up to an unbearable proportions. And people escape it by going to the beach, taking long siestas, cooling off in a water park or the mall, and overindulging on halo-halo. It's the season for fiestas, too. Time to reconnect with kin and loved ones.

During summer back home, flowers are abloom and fruits are abundant. And it's also the time for my favorite childhood summer memory- the Flores de Mayo. I remember until I was ten years old, I adored Flores de Mayo. I practically wiped out my grandmother's flower garden, just to bring a flower offering everyday to the Virgin Mary. And we get to learn to pray and play with other kids. And at the end of May, I get to be either an angel or Reina Elena in the Santacruzan.

I realized now that I have so many wonderful summer childhood memories it could fill an entire baul :) Now it's time to create more happy memories again. Because I think I missed the true essence of summer- relaxation, merriment and socializing. Back in high school and college, summers were spent on summer workshops and classes and many other extra-curricular activities. I am wondering if I could ever do simple things yet again. Start a hobby, explore places, have fun and throw my cares away. Maybe I could do that this year!

This is my second summer here, and I love it. There are many, many exciting things David and I can likely do. Go places, try out and enjoy the things we've never tried before, like visiting lighthouses, scouring more flea markets, visit more historic places. Ahh, all those possibilities!

Happy summer!!!

A lesson in "hiya"

We had an eye-opening experience last weekend. It had something to do with kindness, manipulation and the Filipino word “hiya”. Hiya, in Filipino means shame and is a motivating factor behind behavior. It is a sense of social propriety and conforming to societal norms of behavior. It is synonymous to basic courtesy. Good manners, that is. But in our experience last Saturday, hiya was thrown out of the window.

I know it’s a cultural difference. This culture, unlike Pinoy, tends to be more assertive, demanding and bold. While most Pinoys would be hesitant and shy with other people who are helping them, this culture appeared to me as presumptuous. I know it was our first sampling of that particular trait, but I could not believe it was tolerated (by grownups, regretfully). It was disheartening.

Courtesy, respect, gratitude- these were all trampled upon. In my own two eyes, I witnessed how a 9 year old child, can manipulate other people. One could easily argue the child’s background and emotional need. But helping this child to experience what they couldn’t possibly experience in their own family life, disregarding courtesy, respect and gratitude, is not helping at all. I believe you simply gave them something, but with no meaning.

Let me talk about Little Miss Ginger Ale, our 9 year old subject. She came from the inner city, from a neighborhood teeming with drugs. She was part of the group of kids invited by the inner city outing club where we took part as first-time volunteers for the club’s activity for that day. That weekend, we were going to a charity polo match at the Green Meadows Polo Club in The Plains, Virginia. Initially, she seemed to be fine, talkative and eager. But much to our surprise, she was no timid little child, after all.

We took them first to a department store to pick some outfits and accessories for them. For the girls, we were to pick shoes and hats for them, to complete their ensemble for the polo match. Since nothing would fit from the choices prepared by the store for them, we were asked to pick shoes and hats with them. As soon as they set their eyes on the hats and shoes, they started ripping the price tag off them! We were aghast. And it looked like they were out of control. They would not listen to us, and they began demanding the things that they want. Little Miss Ginger Ale smugly declared to us- “I want this! I want this pair of shoes! I need a purse! I need some earrings! This is what I want!” And they made quite a little scene at the store, which prompted a lady to say to me, Oh guys, you’re in a mess.

We were mortified. We felt helpless. We went into a litany of “You can’t have that! Put that back! Are you out of your mind? You can’t even walk in them!” Ginger Ale’s sister even cried and insisted she wanted those stilettos. We, with our hiya culture and background, were all shook up. We were tormented by the scene we’ve just been exposed to. Nobody, even how poor and desperate and troubled they are, in the Philippines would act such a way when other people show them kindness.

And I thought that was the last of their hullabaloo. On the way to the event, they were constantly annoying us- “Turn that music on! Turn this window down! It makes my nose bleed. Give me your glasses! I need some lotion! I only drink ginger ale. Get me some ginger ale!” I couldn’t wait for them to get off the car.

I know this is a different culture, a different place and a totally different scenario. We were aware of that. But we believe courtesy, respect and gratitude must be invariable. And we couldn’t help but compare them with those humble, impoverished underprivileged souls in the Philippines who would say thank you when given something, and would not dare to demand for something, and would not be as manipulative as Little Miss Ginger Ale. Hiya would always matter, out of respect and gratitude to those who helped them.

And sadly, the grownups seemed tolerant. Whatever they want, they said. Which we believe was unacceptable. Allowing kids to be impolite is allowing them to plunge deeper into the shabby existence they already have. I know their life is hard, and a little indulgence can make them a little happy. But the way we saw it, it was a clear case of manipulation and taking advantage of one’s kindness.

Yes, it was but one, single experience. But it was enough to jolt us to a harsh reality, and into a barrage of questions that would torment our beings. We hope we can fathom the entanglement of the said experience. I had some experience mingling with the underprivileged kids in my husband's high school batch's yearly Reachout before, but we never encountered anything like Ginger Ale. Which made us realize that wherever we may go, the values that we grow up with, sometimes forgotten, will still stir our souls and make us appreciate what we have as warm and grateful people..........

Courage Cup

We were invited to a charity polo match (the 2006 Courage Cup) by David's friend last Saturday. It was held at the Green Meadows Polo Club in The Plains, Va. It was our first polo match and we thought it was fancy- but definitely great. I love the tailgate picnic! It was a hot and humid Saturday (around 90 degrees) and so we were slowly scorched under the sun. It was one lovely and thrilling afternoon for us, but unfortunately, the day did not start as dandy and unruffled as it should be.

That- is an entirely different story. And I could devote a whole new blog post for that. Let me just say, the chaos involved a misrepresentation, a knotty schedule and Little Miss Ginger Ale. The first one, I must admit, was clouded by my reluctance and impatience. The other two were total disappointment. And David and I were mortified, exasperated and disturbed. Positively quagmired.

But let me babble about the Courage Cup. As described, it was the hallmark of the Washington Social Calendar. To be there was exhilarating enough. Our group had a tailgate picnic, and I guess it was enjoyable. We enjoyed the whole scene. Though we did not pay that much attention to the game, but I think the whole event was designed more for socialization- meeting people, to see and be seen, just having fun. And of course, everything was for charity.

I loved everything about the event- the nice-looking people in elegant outfits, the great-looking horses, horsemen swinging the tiny ball with their mallet, and this thing called divot stomping. The mood of the whole event was captivating and impressive.

How I wish that the day started out splendidly. But no use lamenting what had just transpired. I'm glad it ended wonderfully. I'd rather spend a day which began rather shaky and turned out to be a blast, than a day started off jubilantly and ended horribly, totally ruining the day. I enjoyed our day out at the Courage Cup!

slumbook mania

Trying to recall the fun and trends we had as a young girl in the late 80s, I was flabbergasted when the word "slumbook" came to my mind. I can't even find an exact definition of slumbook! But I remember the craze back when we were young. Young girls were fixated on finding who's got a crush on whom, and who has the cutest dedication, or who's got the smartest answers. Now there are blogs, tags, myspace, friendster, etc. I am not even sure if there's someone who was born or was a preteen past the year 1989, knew what a slumbook was, or how it looks like. And if they find out, I'm sure they'd cringe and guffaw like we did our parents with their bell-bottoms and afro.

But I hope people my age could remember what a slumbook was. And how we, in our youthful bliss and ignorance, wallowed in the ultimate kabaduyan! So from third grade until 6th grade (the year was 1989, to be exact), slumbook was totally hip and happening. And me and my girl classmates were kind of crazy about it, too.

The cheesiest queries would be: What is your nickname? What is your favorite color? What is your motto in life? Who is your crush? Who is your favorite movie star? What is your secret ambition? What is your favorite dish? Who is your inspiration? What are your likes and dislikes? What turns you off? Have you been in love? Do you prefer long engagement?

Totally, totally old hat. But- a deluge of squeaky teenyboppers were wrapped up into it. Ahh, those were the days. Back when you're cool when you write fucshia as your favorite color, and Phoebe Cates and Tom Cruise (and not, heavens forbid, Sharon Cuneta and Gabby Concepcion) as your favorite moviestars, or to be a (prosaic) doctor/nurse/lawyer as your ambition. Those, are the elements of nine to twelve year olds' minds. And the crushes were mostly just initials, or code names, or Top Secret. Some would even write Jesus Christ as their crush, just to escape the stinging teasing from friends, or cover up a real crush to a dorky kid. The slumbook jazzed all that up. Merry, merry, merry naïveté. Don't you think?

And who could forget those silly dedications at the end? Remember M, remember E, put them together remember ME. eeeeeeeeewwwwwwww. Could there be anything more bakya than that?! Can anyone tell me other unspeakably baduy dedications?

Well, those were the simple years. Back when life as a kid was so much simpler. Back when sunsets are sunsets, pineapple juice is pineapple juice. No complex addendum. No double meanings. Ages away from intricate and oftentimes challenging existence that is called adulthood. It was a different time then. There were no iPods, no myspace, no camera phone and text messages, no blogs. Just unadulterated expressions of youthful innocence. Through the humble, outdated piece called the slumbook.

my biggest (yet) obsession

Lately, I have been a girl of many obsessions- perfecting sunny side up, hanging the bath towel to dry in my preferred way, not moving any of my stuff in the kitchen (so that I'll be able to reach anything even with my eyes shut), taking out the trash on the dot, doing my rituals in a precise sequence and manner, among other silly things. And then... getting obsessed with dogs. I watch dog shows and Animal Planet a whole lot. And I get excited and envious everytime I see a dog out prancing about, or drooling in a car window.

You see, I've left an adorable, bratty tiny little dog back home. And I miss her terribly. She's an angel, although my mom told me recently she has become kind of a prima donna- always wanting to do things her way. And as expected, my mom was indulging her.

She was a gift to me a couple of years ago. At that time, I lost my other dog and I thought I could not bear to have another dog again. But she turned out to be a real joy. I love her so much, she's the cutest thing in the whole world. But soon after, she has become more my mom's dog (she'd ignore me when mom's around, and she'd rush to my mom, not to me when we get home) as she was my dog. But we have a special bond together. Now, everytime I talk to my mom on the telephone, she'd let me "talk" to her, too, and mom said, she would perk up when she hears the word "bubblelicious". She had always liked it when I call her that way.

And so, I have been hinting for a long time now how tempting it is to have a tiny dog. But as appealing as it was, I know we can't have a dog right now. So I guess I'd just have to deal with getting envious to every dog and dog owner right now. And recently, I have been urging my hubby to have an excursion to the animal shelter, so that we can take a look at all their adorable dogs. Something tells me at the back of my mind it's extraordinary to rescue a dog. But then again, I'd just have to appease myself with just holding them and petting them, even for just a while.

I would tell my hubby, we can pretend to be prospective adoptive pet parents, and then we can hug and enjoy as many dogs as we want to. And I even have this plan to visit as many animal shelters as we can. Faced with the prospect of spending Saturday and Sunday afternoons in shelters, the look on his face was of total skepticism :)

So I am now in a tangled emotional hubbub. I really love those malti-poos, or even those rambunctious Parson Russell terriers, or maybe the goo-goo eyed King Charles spaniels- but I guess my heart will forever be pinned down to my little terri-poo rascal back home.

my dinner date

I went out on a little date with my hubby last Saturday night. It was not the mushy candle-lit dinner date, but just a nice and thoughtful "let's go out so that you don't have to cook dinner anymore". And I thought it was so romantic and solicitous of him.

We went to this Vietnamese restaurant, which we nosed out from the Washingtonian. It was a no-nonsense place where they only serve their specialty- Phở. David liked this traditional Vietnamese noodle dish, but it was my first time to taste it. It was an interesting bowl filled with white rice noodles in beef broth, with thin cuts of beef brisket. Actually, you have a choice of steak, fatty flanks, or tripes and even chicken. Other ingredients are onions, coriander leaves, basil, mint, bean sprouts and lime. I love it. The taste is something new to me, yet it was very satisfying. Not bad on my first try.

The little date with him was a far cry from our dating mode before. I remember at the end of the month, we would dress up, give each other little presents and we would celebrate our 'birthday'. Abundant flowers never fail to delight me. It was definitely memorable. I was always looking forward to that end-of-the-month celebration. But I would never trade our little date last Saturday with those lavish and trendy indulgence. I adore him when we dated, and I adore him more now because he has become more considerate, chivalrous and decidedly warmhearted. Little things he does make me feel special.

Like when we were a young, dating couple, he would go an extra mile to make our days truly special. And he has never forgotten those romantic and gallant ways. As married couple now, in our own special way, we've managed to surprise each other with tender and committed deeds of love.

Esto es para usted, David. :)

my choleric relationship with newspaper reading

When I read newspapers, I always check the Entertainment section first. Does that make me a an ignoramus?

I am talking about when I read Inquirer or Philippine Star or the local dailies, whether actually leafing through the pages or online. I have a peculiar pattern- Entertainment, Lifestyle, Opinion, Comics and then the Headlines. Sometimes I think that's quite a strange pattern, however, I would proudly stand by it and I have my reasons for doing so.

I read the newspapers because I want to be always updated on the happenings of the country. I am not exactly a political person, nor would I wish to be an activist or something of that sort. I am just curious about what's going on. And most of the time, I go from curious to annoyed to mad as hell. I always find the opinions thought-provoking, but I loathe the headlines. I rarely read the editorials because I think they're too long and don't offer enough comfort for me. I also think it is too insipid in the effort of being impartial. I just want to focus on something light and compelling, and if I possibly could, just pleasant, agreeable and stimulating news.

Like I said, I am not privy to politics, which is why I despise all politicians. And sad thing is, they're always on the headlines- doing what they do best- mudslingings, smear campaigns, name-calling, hatchet jobs. All in the name of their so-called doggone statemanship, love of country and devotion to the masses. What a baloney! If they're truly committed then they would HELP and NOT be preoccupied with destroying every other politicians on their way. They seem to have all the opinions and condemnations, but never the solutions. Basta, whoever is in the top position is evil and has to step down. That's always their standpoint. I remember David asking me once if I could make a list of my top 10 rotten politicians that has to be executed. If he would ask me about that now, I could give him a list in 1o seconds. And I know who's on the top of my list. How I hate him.

This is precisely what makes me mad when I read the newspapers. Nothing but goofball politicians ranting about how the president's destroying the country. It's always the president's fault. If the oil prices are high, it's the president's fault. If the roads, schools and facilities on their own districts are gummed up, always the president's fault, if the population increases, it's the president's fault again. Well, even an oncoming typhoon is still the president's fault! You can read the same ludicrous things every single day. And yet, as righteous as they proclaimed they are, they can never offer themselves to help. It's pretty obvious they're only displacing their hapless incompetence, ignorance and insincerity. And it makes feel a little angry inside.

Sometimes I think it's better to read recipes than to subject myself to that lunacy. It's better to read about travel, fashion, shows and events rather than douse myself with such hogwash. What I always find mirth-worthy is Pugad Baboy comics. I find it hilarious and truthful. So Pinoy and so witty at the same time. It never fails to create a smile.

As cranky as my relationship with reading the newspaper truly is, it doesn't mean I have to stop reading. Maybe because I still think I could find a glimmer of hope that it could change. Or maybe my fervent need to know everything that's stirring up the country. But I'm still hoping, and I won't lose this hope, that someday, there will truly be good news.

frenzy Wednesday

I haven't been in a real rollercoaster, however, I can just imagine the maddening twists and turns of the ride. That's exactly how I would describe the last few days. A roller coaster of emotions, so to speak. I have always been afraid of rollercoasters and perhaps I would never be convinced to ever ride in one, not anytime soon. However, I felt the fury of ups and downs (and the upside-downs), the twirls and spins of a rollercoaster in the last few days.

In a moment of misery, it would be easy to say I feel lost. I am a lost soul. However, it keenly feels like hampered yet aware of everything else while being tossed and turned like a sack of potatoes. Or maybe not. It certainly feels like being shot high up and then back down again before I could bat an eyelash. It's madness!

However, if this were a rollercoaster ride, I know it will cease at some point, and this turbulent ride will end. And I know, I'd still be whole and I would pull around after I get off from it. And I'm lucky because I have a hand to hold while in this flurrying ride. Eso es la belleza verdadera de vida.