vagabond

I can tell I'm Filipino because....

2012-02-12T19:11:00.006-06:00

I pull the power cord from the outlet after each and every use; tv, electric fan, electric stove, etc. I use a basin to save water when washing my dishes and every time I meet someone I know on the street, my greeting is the standard: "Where are you going?" Yup. Typical. Nosy.

Anyway, I need to introduce you to my new crew. Here's Ace. Eight years ago, when my husband Don was still alive, Aces' mother was our housekeeper, but a week after Don died, I let her go because I was coming back to the US. She told me she was pregnant--father unknown. I gave her money for her delivery and this is who came out. When Ace was barely 2 years-old he was given to some distant relative because his mother was feeding only on cigarettes and Tanduay rhum. Ace grew up with that relative until 2 months ago, when he was returned to his mother because he was giving kids in school black eyes every chance he gets. And the school principal got tired of him visiting her every week.

He hangs around my crib during the day and I feed him and train him to learn to work, but he's hard on my throat; he doesn't respond to soft calls, he relates only to screaming calls, so I pass him on to work with Santino at my friend Tom's house. Him and Santino needs the firmness of a father figure, and plus, Tom and his wife pays them. I teach them to budget their money for their personal use like toothpaste and laundry detergent, which I am not subsidizing anymore.

This other boy is Nognog; you've seen him in my previous post. Father unknown, mother, lazy. He doesn't like to wear pants or shorts. When I take him to church, he grabs what he can find and wears them, then hurries home to take them off. Yesterday, while we were in the yard planting sweet corn, he rushed past me and told me he was going home to pee, then less than a minute later, he was back. "You've gone home and peed already?" "I peed but didn't go home, I just ran and kept peeing. So am done now." I wish my life is as simple as his.

I went to the woods because......

2012-02-10T06:24:00.013-06:00

I criss-cross the island now, like I am just going to the market. I find that I love the boat ride after all. Well, with all the men, women and children polluting the city with their cigarette, I think migrating to the mountain isn't such a bad idea. So today I went to discuss with my caretaker where I should build my hut in the property.

We're going up and passing by my neighbors hut. I am way behind. Note the bolo on his side, he's getting me one next week.

We're now in my property but I'm still way behind because I thought I was going to die from exhaustion. Pepe, my land caretaker said: "you need to live here in the mountain so your bones won't get brittle." Yeah, right. You see the guy below in black? He's the fisherman who use my outrigger and he gives me half of however much fish he catches, he also is the motorbike driver to pick me up from the pier..... and the guy to carry my backpack so I can take another step to follow Pepe.
I made it. And from where I'm standing to take this picture, I think this is where my hut will stand, where I can ponder the ocean view and live deliberately like Thoreau.

If only you can see me get off the boat and catch a jeepney lugging a sack full of these, you'd think I'm an old farmer's hand delivering produce to the city.

What tsunami?

2012-02-06T23:16:00.009-06:00

Yesterday I left the house at 4 a.m to catch the boat going to Camotes to visit my piece of dirt there. I was coming back on the same day so I didn't bring anything but enough money for food and transportation. When I went to the port to come home, the boats were not allowed to leave because of the "tsunami alert". I know the sky was gloomy, but what are you talking about a tsunami? "You don't know there's an earthquake in all 4 islands?" Said the ticket lady. I started to panic. I worried about having to stay for the night because I didn't bring enough money. I counted my bills and some change and I barely had enough to pay for a fleabag hotel. I found one for 650 pesos, a pension house (about 15 usd). I pleaded with the clerk telling him that I needed a discount or I won't have money left to buy a boat ticket and I could not go home, unless I can walk on water. He agreed to let me have it for 500 pesos. I have to cover the bed with the blanket because it was too rough and itchy.

Scrimping on my pennies, dinner wasn't so bad.
The brother of my caretaker of my land convinced me to buy him an outrigger so he can fish and sell them and I can have the kind of fish I like. I thought it's a swell idea considering he has 8 kids to feed. I told him to stay out in the sea and stop making little people.
We're going down to the mangroves to look at "my" outrigger.

And here she is.

It's all in the training

2012-02-01T21:15:00.007-06:00

We are home and recuperating; me and my "socialite" street cat. So I am totally in the zone again with him and my street kids. I have a new trainee. His mother has 4 kids from 4 different unknown fathers. She's never home so he bums off food from the relatives and neighbors who are just as poor if not poorer. Their parents use firewood to cook,(if they cook) yet these kids are not trained to work so they don't even know how to build a fire. We cooked cassava and they're proud that they cooked it themselves.

Gathered their own firewood.

Their efforts pays off; now they can eat.
Three hundred dollars in his medical bills, and I could not convince him to not go back to the 'hood. I guess it's me who needs the training.

Street kids and street cats

2012-01-31T04:29:00.007-06:00

It's been a tough 2 weeks, with my cat being in the hospital, but today we were finally sent home. This is my first time to experience an animal being sick and being hospitalized. And oh mylanta! If you're put in a cage you'd be more sick too. The dogs and cats I've seen in those cages were all very weak and looked like they're close to death. And everytime I visit mine, I just fall to pieces. Then Chat decided to call my vet and asked her of how my cat can be moved from the other animals....."do you have a private suite and with amenities for my mom?" Who would think of asking such a question.... but Chat. Well, of course they do. A 4x6 private suite....big enough for Winn, but too small for the 2 of us. But the room really did wonders for Winn. I stayed with him 1 day and 1 night there, and immediately he came back to his old self, reason why we're now home. "When you get home make sure he doesn't mingle with peasant cats, so he won't get infected again." This was Chat's instruction. And this peasant cat I got is starting to act like Chat--- only the best will do for him. The nerve!
As soon as we got home he refused to stay inside the house, he pressed his nose against the door and when I opened it his tail started wiggling and he went and hugged the ground. I guess, life is good again.

While Winn was in the hospital, I distracted myself with this new street kid. You know why animals love you unconditionally? Because they won't hear you say that you want to kill them and that's because unlike kids, they don't talk back.

Think fool, think!

2012-01-27T22:15:00.004-06:00

My cat is very ill so he had to be admitted to the animal hospital. After the first day, I went back to check on what had been done and what they found out. Nothing. They were just going to observe him. My eye bags stretched with my eyebrows together with my raised voice. "He's in distress from his bloated stomach, and you're doing nothing?" "Well, ma'am we don't have an ex-ray machine." "What do you mean no x-ray machine, I saw you have one" "We don't have any chemicals for the machine ma'am." By now, I morphed into a mad woman.

What good is a smiling, gentle doctor (for animals or for humans) but stupid, who can not think proactively, who can not think critically, or think outside of the box. An idiot would know to call me to let me know that the critical test that was necessary wasn't done and should inform me so I can make my own plan of action. After 36 hours and only because I asked. Needless to say, I packed my cat and we left and moved to another hospital.

If you live in Cebu and you own an animal, you would not want to use Cebu Veterinary Doctors Hospital. I would not let any life form go near them, unless I decide to make cockroaches as my pets.

Stray cats and strange behavior

2012-01-26T17:27:00.004-06:00

I am not into dogs, but what is it about animals that calms a shivering nerve and at the same time shakes your world when that animal's presence in your life is threatened to be cut short? My cat has been ill for several weeks now, and after a few shots of antibiotics and several pesos later he's still not showing any remarkable improvement, so I finally admitted him to the hospital yesterday. I was beside myself watching him being poked and prodded and blood extracted from his bony paws, but I feel better telling myself that I am doing the best I can for him. Before I left him, I told the doctor to do the best he can, that money is not a problem. Did I just say that? Yes, I did. I really did. I would have to pawn my lungs since I have already pawned my kidney, but yes, money is not an obstacle when it comes to my cat. But really, what gave me the confidence and the peace was because Chat used that word: "Mom, do whatever it takes for Winnie to live, money is not a problem." And I thought Leona Hemsley was an idiot for leaving 8 million to her pets.

This week....

2012-01-21T19:05:00.007-06:00

My friend arrived from Manila and always when she's in town, she completes my day...or in this case, week. Our first plan of going to another island didn't pan out so we just toured the city and hotel hopped, and this was made possible because she drove. As you would not find me behind the wheel (in this island) wriggle my way in and out of the latest SUV's and the carcasses of 2nd world war jeepneys.

Just for nostalgia, all these for 7 us dollars. I think it's too much for the same fruits that we didn't really pay much attention to when we were growing up.

I have changed the schedule with my rugby team; instead of me going to them, I now have them come to my place every Saturday afternoon. We tell stories, sing or dance and talk about God and man. Then we eat.

Then I bandage their external wounds, as I am not equipped to take care of the internal ones---emotional or mental.

.

Bake,bake, bake

2012-01-17T04:54:00.002-06:00

I am trying to get acquainted with local baking ingredients and where to buy them. In the US I can go to one grocery store and get everything I need in that store, but not here. Today, I wanted to buy vanilla, lemon extract and confectioners sugar for a recipe I wanted to make, so I went to the biggest grocery store in the island....and they didn't have it. I got frustrated so I decided to make bundt cake instead.It costs money (as always )when I am bored and agitated.

Food...etc

2012-01-13T15:47:00.005-06:00

Yesterday, before the crack of my eyelids I went to the wet market. A dawn procession for the fluvial parade in honor of the "black Nazarene" (baby Jesus)was passing by. I don't know why Cebuanos think that my Lord Jesus is black.

Fermented fingerlings,dried sardines, whatever you fancy.

Rump roast or pork belly?
Hello!!! White or dark? We had a good life until you decided that being a vegetarian sucks.

Did you pay extra for that label "free range"? How did we end up here and into your frying pan?

Don't worry...be happy?

2012-01-09T02:02:00.005-06:00

I am waiting for the welder to come install a steel gate to the outside kitchen-- who was supposed to have been here 2 days ago. No phone calls, no nothing and he has my money already. I am also waiting for the granite lady to call, to come and measure my countertop and it's now almost 5 pm. I'm not going to be bothered, because I have worked hard to learn to accept this laid-back (lazy) attitude of Filipinos because it's a mindset that is deeply rooted in most everyone here. I hate to say this, but my friend is right, the reason most Filipinos are poor is because they choose to be. They chose the lifestyle they want to live in and that is, if they have noodles to eat for today, why work anymore? Let tomorrow worry about tomorrow's noodles.

So I sit here wondering if I'd get lucky and someone would really show up today, or at least call. While waiting, I browse through Facebook and get nosy. I have deactivated my account twice, only to catch myself back at it again. I love Facebook. Why? Because it's free therapy. It's an open arena showcasing peoples state of mind. Like, one posts all the time about how "broke" she is and how she hope she can gather enough change to buy a hot dog. And this post alternates with "I soooo love my man" (who is obviously 1st degree broker than she is or why hasn't he bought her a friggin hotdog so she'll stop craving for a hotfriggindog, week after week.) If I'm that broke, you'd see my post like this: At Four Seasons Spa enjoying a Vichy shower. Then off to a steak and lobster dinner.
In other words, I'd lie through my teeth about the state of my pocket and I definitely won't be caught dead giving you an idea that I'm going with a broke bloke. Because to begin with, I would have to be insane to get involved with a broke bloke. (I can be broke by myself, why add his sorry arse to mine.)
So the next time you see my post saying: @Eiffel tower, happy and not griping, (about anything) having a wonderful dinner with my wonderful man, looking out into the sunset. It would be a safe guess that I have been dumped and am alone, staring into the horizon and about to jump off the bridge. Minus the pictures.

Gripe, gripe

2012-01-02T04:35:00.011-06:00

I wish someone would give me a dime every time I gripe about my country of birth and my people, because this is all I can and want to do. When I am here. In the Philippines.

Toilet paper and tissue napkins.

In the U.S., restaurants are stocked with napkins, left out on the table; thick and wide and strong. Every time you eat out, you can empty the whole napkin dispenser, put it in your bag and ask the waiter for refills. He will gladly oblige, no questions asked. Then you can go to the restroom and bag all the toilet paper too. Even if you only eat out once a week, you can delete these two items from your shopping list. Forever. But Americans won't do this....steal napkins. They may steal the whole pantry, but napkins? Also note that American airlines flight attendants don't announce at the end of the flight reminding passengers that the blankets and the tv belong to the airplane. Because Americans just know that them itchy-never-been-washed blankets should remain where they are...on the floor and not in your bag. And they're not going to be caught dead yanking out a 4" poor excuse of a tv from behind a snoring 379 lb. passenger. But my countrymen just can't and won't leave things alone. Is it because we were raised helping ourselves to the neighbors chickens and eggs? And adults sending us on errands to borrow sugar or salt from the neighbor and we can't remember ever returning them? So we pay the price; we have to bring our own toilet paper wherever we go or make do with restaurant napkins, that is if it hasn't dissipated after you used it to wipe your fork or spoon.

Sales clerks. Duties: Stand there. Smile. Memorize 2 short English sentence: "Good morning/Afternoon Sir" "Good morning/Afternoon Maam" Product knowledge: zero
It's very seldom that I would need help at the grocery store, but I dread having to buy something like hardware materials or appliances. Today, I went to the hardware store looking for a saw. (That's right, a saw.) I swear, the guy assigned to that aisle had a pulse and some brain activity, until I had the audacity to ask him about his product. Product knowledge about a saw? 30 degrees below zero. He was so useless, he is the first one you'd want to eat when your plane crash in an island no one knows about. (except the backpackers who successfully kept it out of Lonely Planet writers). But I don't think you can eat something that's smiling at you, telling you it's a good morning or afternoon.

On this side of the fence....

2011-12-31T11:12:00.003-06:00

In Dallas it is noontime on Saturday of December 31, while here in the Philippines it is now the new year....2012 is here. I'm sitting here trying to survive the neighbors firecrackers and all the noise from their noise making machine... which of course include the Karaoke.

Over the fence, 4 families live in one house, the size of which is not bigger than my crib. The last time I counted there were at least 19 people in that house. Miraculously, 3 people in that household really do have a job, and because of Christmas they get bonuses. And guess what they think that bonus money should be for? Well, one bought a karaoke machine, the other one bought these huge ugly looking boxes of speakers which they call "sounds." The 3rd one didn't get much so he just bought booze to go with the "sounds." And you know that not a day goes by that the "sounds" are not producing a sound to my torment.

Tonite, to bring in the new year they brought out the ugly boxes out on the street just outside my gate on the public street and all 821 of them partied like a rock star. I went out and chatted with them for a bit until I could not stand the "sounds" anymore. Just for the hell of it I asked one of them what their plans for the new year, if any. (I badly wanted to hear that building a toilet actually crossed their minds, if only to flatter me.) "I plan to quit my job end of January." "How long have you worked there?" "One year but it doesn't pay much." "And what are you going to do?" (I badly wanted to hear that he would pawn the ugly boxes and the karaoke and use the money to build a toilet) "I don't know." He said it like he was sure of his answer.

I've made a vow not to let anything raise my blood pressure so I just excused myself and went back to my crib and blog, resolute in my plan for the new year. For the year 2012, I want to do only one thing; kill the inventor of Karaoke. (If he's still alive.)

Island trip

2011-12-29T05:28:00.008-06:00

I went to check out my piece of dirt in the island of Camotes and this is the luxury boat I took. It's a 3.5 hour trip.

Approaching the port. And you can tell we're in the Philippines just looking at the people waiting for their family.

Trying to decide which trees to cut and which to keep.

Whatever country I've been to, historial sites and museums were never on my list of things to do. It's the public market I live for. And today I got lucky because it's the towns' market day.

Pure unadulterated tobacco.

Rice cakes in each purest form; fresh coconut milk and ground rice.

Life goes on....

2011-12-26T01:06:00.004-06:00

Give me the power to create a fever and I shall heal all diseases -Hippocrates

The day before Christmas I woke up not feeling right, but I was cooking for my nephews and niece so I had to work through it. With the neighbor's firecrackers and my throbbing headache I was about to postpone Christmas..... and life. On Christmas day, I lasted until after 1 pm then I had to tell everyone I am going in to my cave and won’t be coming out until the middle of next year. My headache felt like I had tumor in my brain and my throat burnt like fire in hell with temperature hot enough to burn my bed. (But not hot enough to ignite my neighbors and stop their homemade cannons and firecrackers)

Today, it feels so good to feel good that I did some weeding in my garden then I disinfected my crib, mopped the floor with bleach and sprayed Lysol. But having a fever is not necessarily all bad; the heat will kill all the bad bugs and strengthen the good ones, but a prolonged one is something to be concerned with so I hope that was it. I sure need the cleansing and strengthening of my immune system because with my “rugby team” I am exposed to head lice and all kinds of diseases. Before I left, my friend in the States told me to make sure not to come back with head lice. “I am sooo afraid of them, they're disgusting.” She said this with a contorted facial expression. “ What about TB or hepatitis, is that ok?” I said.

Anyway, what really makes me feel more healed is to see that my squash seeds have sprouted.
And my papaya now has it's first sign of fruit. Life goes on as you can see.

It's the little things

2011-12-21T20:58:00.004-06:00

This morning some man was at the gate calling my name. I opened the door and it was the courier guy with a box in his hand. I signed for the box ,but the receipt had nothing on it showing where it came from, only my name was readable. I was so excited and my hands were shaking in a hurry to open it. When I opened it, I was overcame with emotions.....I cried and could not stop myself. (I thought Lexapro is strong enough to numb me, oh well, it must be old age.) Not really. It's little gestures like this that topples me. My friend all the way from America had her sister mail me my favorite pastry. I had to stop crying so I can swallow.

Did I say I hate Christmas? Strike that from the record.

>

One day at a time...

2011-12-21T02:15:00.003-06:00

Chat told me the other day that I need to find another hobby after I told her of my frustration with the parents of these street kids. She said, “Why don’t you go bum around Europe?” “Europe? That’s just geography, because I am bumming around already.” And I must really look like a bum, because today, after I came out of the pharmacy to get one of the boys (who was waiting for me outside the door) some medicine, the guard asked me if the boy was my son. “Yes he is.” I said, while I made the boy pop the pill into his mouth in front of the guard.

Because it has been raining a lot lately and the weather is colder at night, almost all the street kids are having a fever on and off while constantly coughing and spitting phlegm. I get angry, frustrated and heartbroken, because I feel so inadequate to help with their physical illness but mostly because I know that more than anything, they need to be emotionally coached to get past the hurt of being abandoned. Here’s one typical example: Rio, is 14 years old. His father was killed when he was 10. A year later, his mother started living with another man who is a drunk and beats them up. Rio then run away, and began living on the street. Every week I see him and the other street kids, and every week he says the same thing, “you forgot about me already, did you?”

Last Sunday, he told me he is saving some money so he can go back to the province where his uncle lives. I told him I will take him there or pay for his fare if he promise to start a new life and not come back to the city. But first I had to talk to his other uncle who works here in the city, because there’s no use sending him to the mountain if he is not welcomed there. True enough, the uncle said they don’t want the responsibility. “He only finished 2nd grade.” I asked him if he would reconsider and talk to the other uncle; I appealed to his conscience. “How can Rio start a new life if no one will help him, and how can someone deny him another chance at a decent life?” Well, today I put Rio on the bus back to his province. I told him that if he promise to do good and stay 3 months, I will go up there and celebrate his birthday with a cake, and I will enroll him in school.

In the meantime, I don’t allow myself to worry too much about tomorrow because I am not guaranteed that I will still be alive when tomorrow comes. There’s a greater chance that I will be bumming around Europe than Rio graduating elementary school. But then again, who knows?

I get by With the help of my friends

2011-12-17T17:08:00.010-06:00

Yesterday, with the help of my friend Tom and his church staff and Mcdonald's (JY Square )donating the burgers, my "rugby team" and my writing girls had another fun day of games and food. The Gaisano chain of grocery stores also donated the space in their parking lot with free electricity even.

See these 2 women? One is pregnant the other one still nursing a 7 month old. The pregnant one has 2 kids on the street while the one with the 7 month old has 3.
The pack in my hand looks like a pack of juice, but it's not, it's a rugby pack that the boy in green (to my left) was keeping under his shirt. I feel so frustrated because adults are selling these sachet packs to these kids. The short term effect is that it suppresses hunger, but the long term effect is of course a fried brain.The boy in red snitched on the boy with the glue satchet and I tried to coax him to give it to me. But after they ate, he came up to me begging me to give it back to him.

Lunch for my vagabond friends

2011-12-13T20:28:00.007-06:00

Yesterday was the Christmas lunch for my rugby team. (rugby-sniffing street kids) We're boiling water to make spaghetti and because we had 4 kilos to make, I thought I'd save money on electricity and do it outside. Looks like I need basic training in building a fire. Santino, Jordan and Jack. Preparing the spaghetti, filipino version. We held it in my backyard.

I had them tell their story of why they're on the street and what their plans are in life. They tell of what they want to become, but no plan on how to achieve it. For now, their main goal is to get more money so they can have an "exchange gift."
This boy Alex, said that his parents moved "to the north" without telling him so his friend's mother took him in and they're both now on the street. My patience was tested after they were pumped with sugar from the cake and the candies, but the highlight was when they started telling me that the spaghetti wasn't tasty. "Put more ketchup" at least 2 of the boys said it in unison, "we don't really like it." What do you mean you don't like it? Well, at least they were honest. I told them it's my first time to make the flip version and thanks to them, I will now know how to make it next time.

I splurged

2011-12-09T01:53:00.005-06:00

Well, I finally took the plunge. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, pawned my kidney and bought an oven for my use here in Cebu. It's more than what I've a budget for, but who cares, if all I buy is for what I need and not for what I want, what kind of life that would be? Here's the baby.

And here's the trial run---fudge brownie.
Am planning to make cookies and brownies and get these 2 boys to sell them. After I successfully get the grimes out of their body and make Jack stop sneaking out and telling me he went caroling when I know he went to sniff glue.

My space is too cramped, everything is in my living room, but I should not complain, at least I'll have something to dream about; when I get rich I'd move to a house with a kitchen twice the size of my house.

Teaching them how to fish

2011-12-05T18:33:00.004-06:00

I can understand why women would kill themselves or the "other woman" because of their obsession over a man. (Though I doubt that there's a man worthy of my premature communing with the worms underground or of me being behind bars serving a sentence without a period). What I can't understand or relate to, is how it is to be addicted to drugs or alcohol.

So when Jack wanted to leave yesterday so he can go back to the street again, I could not see his side of reasoning. He gave me all kinds of excuses, but I knew it was so he can inhale glue again. I told him he's free to stay or leave for good. After 2 hours he came back and said that he realized he wanted to be with us after all. But I knew he had his fill of glue. This morning, him and Santino woke up early. I had them prepare the soil for gardening and prepare their own food. I could teach them to use my kitchen and the stove, but I want them to be self-sufficient and be proud of accomplishing something decent for themselves. They're proficient at stealing and begging but that's not something to be proud of, I told them.

a ;>

My little and big FRIENDS

2011-12-05T13:36:00.005-06:00

It's my 5th day here in Cebu and the stores are buzzing with Christmas songs and Christmas merchandise. And the spirit does make you feel like....buying. But I have to be sensible in my spending because I have these hungry boys to feed.

Although Chat is the sole supporter of my efforts here in Cebu, I am so blessed to have the kind of friends I have. In Dallas, my friends wanted to help in every which way they can. One friend offered to buy peanut butter or macaroni and cheese for me to bring back, but since I didn't have the space anymore, offered at the last minute to give me her few bucks. The gesture meant a lot to me, considering that she and her husband have their kids college loan to tackle and she just had a big hospital bill. And here in Cebu, I have my friend Tom who has been a big help in teaching these kids. He is a big influence in Jordans' life when I left Jordan with him 6 years ago when I went back to the US. And this time while I was gone I dumped on him these "rugby sniffing" kids. And I use his space. And patience.

here I go again...

2011-12-01T18:12:00.004-06:00

Ok am here in my crib in Cebu again. The flight with Korean air was not as pleasant from before. Although I find it offensive when people who knows to speak English prefers to talk in their native language that I don't understand around me, I normally am not bothered by it as much as other people are. But last night with the flight attendants and the pilot speaking almost incomprehensible English, my fallophian tube was stirred up more than necessary. I asked one of the atttendants if there was an American pilot in the cockpit, and with her barely audible voice and incomprehensible accent, I could not discern anything. But she smiled incessantly though. Smile is good. But totally useless when I need to know if it's time to jump or stay bowed down close to my arse.

Anyway, 3 months ago before I left to go back to my apartment in Dallas, I sprinkled all the seeds I had from the papaya I was eating and also some okra seeds I bought at the market. Then I also transplanted some of the plants the locals think are useful for home remedies.

The highest shoot is called "atis" it will bear edible fruits that is quite tasty but we can boil the leaves for stomach ache or for indigestion.

This is a very prolific plant called 'kalabo' and again, you can boil the leaves for colds and cough and to reduce fever.>

Then here's the okra. Even with the neighbors helping to eat them, we still have plenty on the vine, which I am leaving to dry in the stalk so I can use the seeds to plant.

Competition, consumption, progress

2011-11-26T08:26:00.004-06:00

Black Friday Sale. It's crazy. And it doesn't make sense. People are jam packed at the malls and every other store looking for that "big sale" of the year. Isn't that wild? just the day before, we bowed our heads to thank the good Lord of how grateful we are for what we have, then the very next day we march to the store with the rest of the herd to buy more things that we don't need and can't afford, to be thankful for next year?

Yesterday, I passed by Walmart and not one parking space was available. Walmart is another source of tummy ache for me. I admit, Walmart's prices are very reasonable and the choices of products more varied. In the short term, that's good, but in the long term? Very dangerous. When Walmart started building in the city where I used to live, I have seen them close down 3 grocery chain of stores. Food Lion, Sack and Save and Albertson's could not compete with Walmart so they closed down. When competition is eliminated, what do you think will happen? I have experienced it first hand in my birth country of Philippines. When there was only 1 commercial airline and 1 telephone company, only a handful of people can afford to fly; the politicians and the very rich businessmen(and their mistresses) and you waited at least 5 years to get a phone service unless you know someone at the phone company to bribe. Now that the airlines are privatized, everyone flies--even the ones who hasn't seen an airplane and would hesitate boarding, afraid that they're riding inside a metal bumblebee. And with so many phone service carrier now, it's not unusual to see a cigarette street vendor carrying a Blackberry or an Iphone (that he probably stole from the daughter or son of the customs collector or from a politicians illigitimate kid).

So what's my point? It's not that simple to explain, because it's about "consumerism". Of course I benefited from progress, but I also know that progress has its cost. When I am in Cebu I see the river next to my childhood home that used to be clear and clean and now blocked with waste and sewage. And the beach where my dad and I used to go to dig for clams is now slimy, black and toxic because of the progressive industy around it. The river and the beaches --- my childhood memories started and concluded there. Not to mention the abundant trees that are being cut down to sacrifice in the altar of progress. Progress.....I get a tummy ache and I feel helpless because I know someone somewhere is over-consuming and I am probably one of them.

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T23:17:00.003-06:00

It's 10 minutes to midnight and I am sitting here eating a left-over turkey leg, rice crispies, jalapeno pepper, papaya and sour patch candy. Yeah, I know. You furrowed your brow and twirled your index finger next to your temple and say: that woman is one french fry short of a happy meal. But that's me--when I can't sleep, I eat.

Well, today is turkey day and as usual when I am in the US on Thanksgiving day, I go to a friends house. They're the closest friends I have, they're almost like family. In fact, Chat refers to them as her aunt and uncle whenever she introduce them to her friends. With all the food they prepared, I didn't need to bring this pork, but why not? Well, looking at this plus all that junk I just stuffed my face with, I feel drunk and nauseated, I better find the bed and attempt to sleep. Happy Thanksgiving ya'll.

Friendships

2011-11-22T14:12:00.003-06:00

My days are winding down to where I would yet again bear the over 20 hours of travelling time back to my island of Cebu. Suddenly my days are full; getting last minute items I need to take or to ship to Cebu, meeting different sets of friends for coffee, lunch or dinner. Yesterday, I was with my writer friends for coffee then I had to rush after, to take my other friend out to lunch for her 88th birthday. She is such an anchor for me because she is a praying woman. I am blessed that way. Nothing more comforting than knowing that there's people out there petitioning God for me, wherever I am. In fact, last Sunday night I had my other set of friends who came to break bread and pop the Pinot cork, as we read bible verses and before they left, each one prayed for me.

I could have asked Mrs. B (I like to call her that) to blow out a few candles but I forgot to bring some. She could very well blow all 88 of them because her lung capacity and mental acuity far exceeds mine. Really, she beats me in just about everything---imagine 6 years ago, she remarried at 82.

Cold and Gloomy...and...

2011-11-19T09:11:00.002-06:00

I am happy. Normal people would feel gloomy on gloomy days, but not me. I don't know what it is, but when the sun stares brightly and the earth is embraced with its creme brulee, mangoe-persimmons hue, something inside me feels cocooned in a web of darkness and longing I could not explain. But then again, there are so many things I could not explain anyway.

I must not be good at explaining. Because I could not make some of my friends understand that I am perfectly fine eating alone, shopping alone, vacationing alone and that I could stay in a cave (minus the bats) and only come out when Jesus comes. Some of them believes they're doing me a favor by taking me out of my digitally wired crib. The other day, this lady I have known for a few years now (but still don't know me) again, hounds me to go eat out with her. I enjoy eating out with other people, but just not with her, because not only does she act mean to the servers, she hardly leaves a tip, and when she does, it's a dollar in change including pennies. And talks about Jesus with a passion---but does things Jesus won't do. Once a year I would indulge her and go with her and struggle through a meal, listening to her obnoxious rhetoric,and the remaining 364 days I spend hiding from her.

But tomorrow is that 1 day of the year I succumbed to her. I told her we're going to a buffet. This way, I could keep getting up to refill my plate everytime she says something nauseating. Tomorrow I will eat every dish (even vegetables) and not exhale, until someone calls 911 and strong-husky-underwear-model-looking paramedics will rush in to take me away from her. Oh, friendships.

Steve Jobs

2011-11-15T21:21:00.003-06:00

Steve Jobs biography is a very engaging book. I am reading it slowly because it's the kind of read where I find it necessary to put the book down, then I ruminate with that hint of a smile in my eyes as I try to reflect, because for some unexplainable reason, I find there's some resonance. And you ask: Like what? Well, I'm talking about missed opportunities.

When Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak started Apple, there were a lot of people who would be millionaires now had they taken Jobs seriously when he went around asking for a loan so he could package and market Apple II and in return he offered a stake in his newly hatched company. Though Nolan Bushnell was already rich, (being the founder of Atari) he still remembers the missed opportunity when he didn't give Jobs the 50k he wanted to borrow, with a promise to give Bushnell a third of the company. With humor Bushnell says: "I was so smart, I said no. It's kind of fun to think about that, when I'm not crying."

Well, who would take Steve Jobs seriously when he was always walking barefoot and smelled foul? They literally had to put him out the door and tell him to take a shower. Mike Markkula, the 3rd man in the company and the number 1 investor, was averse to confrontation, so he brought in a president whose main duty was to reign in Jobs hygiene and attitude problem. But Jobs was focused, he knew what he wanted and most of all, he had the foresight to give us something we didn't know we need.

I can't wait to get to the part about his wife. And I can't wait to find out if Steve learned to shower after all. But let me tell you, I don't think I'd mind bathing Steve Jobs.

Detoxed? Not quiet

2011-11-09T07:07:00.002-06:00

Ok, so I live to tell my story. Yeah right, for 1 day? Well, you don't understand....to begin with, I don't do vegetables and I eat pretty much as often as I take in air. So to do the whole day of just vegetable juice was such an accomplishment to me, though, I doubt that it accomplished much to my goal of detoxing. Here's how my day went yesterday:

I get up around 5 or 6 everyday, and I go straight to make coffee and sip it with bread. But yesterday, I made jasmine tea instead and by 8 I had the juice. I felt ok, no hunger, but by 10 a.m. I was feeling sad and lonely thinking that I would have to go all day without real food.
And the feeling of isolation and hopelessness continued; not that I was really hungry, I wasn't. It was the thought of being deprived. By 1 p.m. I was tempted to break my goal so I ate an apple instead of juicing it with the carrots. The solid helped, but I still had difficulty thinking of having to go all afternoon without..... chicken and rice? Bread? Or anything solid. By 2pm, the picture of a juicy and thick rib eye kept flashing in my minds eye, and by now, I was really hungry. I ate a handful of grapes. As the clock ticked on to 5, I started to feel better knowing that I would soon be going to bed and the day will be over. I took another glass of tomatoe, cucumber and papaya at 6 pm and by now I was feeling triumphant. I know I make it sound like I was having a major surgery, but to me it was.

Even though in reality 1 day of juicing doesn't have a significant effect on the body because you won't really see it til after 3 days, I feel better just knowing that I can after all, do 1 day of depriving myself. For sure I will do this again. Maybe in 2016.

Detoxing

2011-11-08T08:22:00.004-06:00

Other than my flaw of starting(anything) but unable to follow through, I am perfect. Today, I am doing the "juice detox". Why am I doing this? So I can remove the goats, the cows and the pigs in my stomach. In my 55 years, I have not done any fasting---not even when I was broke and could not afford food. Jesus is an advocate of fasting so are a lot of other people, but I just can't see myself not eating. But it has come to a point where I need to help myself, (even just a little) in the hope that I would regain some semblance of my memory back in my twenties and hopefully get a reboot on my energy level too. I don't know if I would last the whole day, but am trying.

After Chat took me to a big dinner last night, I decided to go ahead and face my challenge. I did this before I went to bed. A slice of ginger to aid in digestion and a squeeze of lemon for taste. And considering I don't do vegetables? Kale and cukes.
For breakfast this morning. Yikes. But really, it's not that bad. Kale and tomato.

>

I will let you know tomorrow how I did, assuming I'd still be alive.

What plan?

2011-11-06T09:48:00.003-06:00

I was talking to a friend last night and she asked me what I normally do during the day and what's my next plan. Well, not much. And as far as "plans" are concerned, I am never one to plan. I envy people who can plan a year ahead and has a vivid and definitive goal---because I just can't do that. Two months is the farthest I can plan ahead, and even that makes me anxious. The bible says that people without vision, perish so I am grateful to God for accomodating my failings in regards to planning.

I've always worked to make my own money and pay my own way since I could learn to walk, so now that I am not working and earning a daily paycheck, I feel like I'm a bum. I am trying to get out from feeling that I am defined by how much I earn--financially. (I realize this feeling is so not cool.) At the end of the month I am going back to Cebu and continue my work with the street kids. Long term plan with them? None. I will continue to do what I've started--just one day at a time. I feed them, hang out with them and teach them values with the biblical perspective. Before I left, I had the opportunity to buy this small piece of land in the island of Camotes, so I think I will take some of them there and we'll camp out and maybe raise goats and chickens. Is that a plan? It's not making me anxious, so I think it is.

You could not mean that...

2011-11-03T09:40:00.003-05:00

Ever wondered why those Hindu women have a dot on their foreheads? (After all the dog-eating-Filipino jokes, I feel justified to tell a racial joke). Most of us have naively thought this was connected with marriage or religion, but the Indian Embassy in Washington , DC has recently revealed the true story…
When a Hindu woman gets married, she brings a dowry into the union. On her wedding night, the husband scratches off the dot to see whether he has won a convenience store, a gas station, a donut shop or a motel in the United States . If nothing is there, he must take a job in India answering telephones giving technical advice. (So there's your answer.)

I have mentioned on my previous blog why I stopped taking Lexapro (too costly) then someone told me to order online, and it's true it was almost half the cost. I ordered it through an online pharmacy in Canada, or so it said. My order arrived, and it was the generic brand! And worst yet, it came from India. If not taking the meds make me bipolar, this made me homicidal. I called their customer support number and there it was--- fast talking, barely comprehensible Ahmad/ahmed. I asked him why I got a generic and why did it come from India, and all I could pick out from his answer was that "it's the same". His answer made my cheese slip off the cracker; I told him to "refund my money right away, I don't want any of your deceptive, fraudulent arse selling me anything." He said "ok." I asked for a confirmation number of our conversation, I think he said "not necessary". I asked for his name; "Bertrand Russell" he said. Bertrand Russell? Yeah right. And I am Virginia Woolf. I hang up the phone fuming and wishing I am Lorena Bobbitt.

The weekend synopsis

2011-11-01T10:31:00.008-05:00

For their flag, Israel has the star of David, for the United States she has 50 stars. And Canada has leaves? What's up with that? But that's ok, their Prime Minister is cute and does not mince his words. Anyway, so I got to Banff, Canada but didn't get to do flyfishing after all; the closest I got was pose for pictures by the river.

And holed up in my hotel room watching the naked chef.

And walked around the strip with the snow capped mountain as the backdrop, which was cool because Texas is so flat-- the only elevation you see are the school zone bumps.

And then ate shepherd's pie for lunch, went back to my hotel room and watched more cooking shows of the cheeky kid----Jamie Oliver.

I think I'll live

2011-10-26T09:14:00.003-05:00

It was not food poisoning or watching tv on a 60" screen that caused my nausea. It was caused by me quitting Lexapro cold turkey. For 2 weeks I was sick as a dog, instead of feeling better as the week passes, I felt more sick that I started praying for God to just take me home. Then it dawned on me that it must be a symptom from stopping on my anti-depressant. For you purists out there, you won't understand about anti-depressants, and I don't expect you to, because even the medical community hasn't totally embraced the fact that mental health affects the body and can be responsible at times for our physical ailments.

So why did I quit Lexapro? when it worked and took care of my anxiety attacks? Well, for one, it is very expensive, second, because I hate taking medications. Well, am back on it now so I can live again. So tomorrow, am flying to Banff in Canada to do fly fishing. Besides golf, fishing is the only other sport I like, but I could not make myself eat fish when I was fishing, so I quit fishing. (I could not kill and eat) When I was in Europe I met the guy who owns a fly fishing company in Canada, that's where I'm going tomorrow. Here's his website.

I will post pictures when I get back, until then ya'll have a good weekend.

2012 Preparation

2011-10-18T20:13:00.006-05:00

Ladies and gents, please welcome the FLOTUS. Blackie O painting John Agbi's home, an Afghanistan disabled vet. Uhhh... yeah? Yup. (pause for a projectile vomit here) She needs the exercise I guess, especially if it's true that she ate more than any other guests of the 'butter ya'll' Paula Deen. Here see what else Deen said besides the following.

"You know what their favorite foods are — it's hot wings, you know, those kinds of foods that are not necessarily top-of-the-list healthy foods, so she's no different than the rest of us," Deen said.

I've always wondered how a butt floss feels.

*Photos lifted from http://www.michellesmirror.com/

Where's the beef?

2011-10-18T09:55:00.005-05:00

I went out for my walk this morning and I had to cut it short because it was too windy. Walking on the treadmill is always a last resort for me, because I prefer walking on the pavement, so I came back and made breakfast. I can survive all day without a full meal as long as I have bread, and even if I have a full meal, I still don't feel full unless I eat bread.(I thought you need that trivia.)

Ok, so I am always in a "starting" mode, but "never finishes anything" according to my ex-(whatever). I am thinking of not eating meat anymore. Considering that I don't eat vegetables, this is an elephantine project.
I like some fruits so I'll start with them.

Anti-capitalist, anti-America

2011-10-17T14:59:00.006-05:00

I love America. And I love free enterprise. The same way I respect one's right to free speech and the right to protest, but this "Occupy Wallstreet" protesters kind of rub my scales the wrong way. They are mad because of the banks "greed", which is understandable right off the surface. But do they really understand what for and why they're out there? Did they stop to think that when these "greedy" bankers were bailed out, there was no referendum, asking the tax paying public if we agree to it? No, the politicians collectively passed the basket and handed billions to their friends--the greedy bankers.

So I think these protesters are barking at the wrong tree. Hating the rich and the capitalists? I want to see them "occupy" every politicians home and stay there until they get Washington right. Otherwise, suck it up whiners, because your actions belies your ideals. Or your intellect.
Pooping on a police car to voice out your sentiment about corporate America makes as much sense as scratching your toe because your nose is itching.

Eat the Rich? What the..

They hate "capitalism" so much so that they post their updates through their iphones, an invention that would not have been possible were it not for the capitalist, Steve Jobs. These OWS reminds me of a group of protesters composed of young, idealistic Filipinos, back when they wanted the closure of the US bases in the Philippines. They carried placards, saying, "Down with imperialist America", while they're wrapped in Levi's jeans and drinking Coca cola. And when they were not on the street protesting, they were found reclining and strategizing at Mcdonald's.

I don't make this observation lightly or say this sentiment blindly. In 1986, I was one of the hundreds of thousands of Filipinos lined up on the highway of Edsa, Philippines for the "People Power" revolution. But I can't say it was born out of patriotism, idealism or civic duty. My friend Juliet and I were there because we felt left out and hungry, because our housekeeper hastily left to join the swelling crowd. So we went and joined the festival. Now, am too old to be joining any festival, but I belong to this.

It's not food poisoning

2011-10-16T09:21:00.005-05:00

Since I got back here in Dallas, I have been struggling with respiratory allergies and I just could not feel good. Then the other night about midnight, I was so nauseated but unable to vomit, I felt the floor spinning and I was sweating cold sweats. This symptom is the same as what I had in 1996 when I had food poisoning in Cebu, eating clams. But I doubt that this is food poisoning. I think this is because I have been watching tv and this is motion sickness, what with having to move my eyeballs around on that 60" screen. Ok, I'm ghetto, we've already established that, but believe me, this symptom didn't start until a week ago, the day when I didn't go to sleep til 1 a.m. watching Netflix. To prove my diagnosis, I bought this conch yesterday and ate it like I'm on death row on my last meal. I ate these and slept on the floor, away from the temptation of that nausea emitting screen.See, I woke up feeling good this morning.

Distractions, A-musement

2011-10-10T07:36:00.004-05:00

When I said I haven't watched television for more than 10 years, I didn't mean it's because I didn't have a tv set. I have one the size of a chest freezer, but who cares, it's strong enough to hold books and whatever I wanted to load on top of it. Chat tried to convince me that to get the most out of my chest freezer, I need to at least have cable, but I just could not be talked into that because watching tv does not make me intelligent, or improve my memory. One thing it does, is make my bones stiff and my butt wide.

"When you read, you sit on your butt for hours, so what's the difference with watching tv?" "Just leave me alone." Is my constant answer. But the other day, I just could not resist it when she came with 2 men to install this wide and flat contraption in my bedroom. "Now, look mom, this is called Netflix video streaming. No pressure, you watch it when you want it." I admit, I heart the thing. And I heart it sooo much. But I'm not stupid, I know why Chat's doing this, she's worried I'd get into seniordating.com again if I'm not distracted.

A woman's need.....for a working brain

2011-10-08T10:13:00.003-05:00

So here we go again. A woman's need for a man. Ok, but let me get something straight; when I call someone a "friend" I mean, he/she is not an enemy. I need not have a close relationship with someone for me to call him or her a friend. I am saying this because you might wonder why I talk about my "friends." Don't worry, I don't talk about my close friends, especially when I know that she reads my blog.

Anyway, since I don't have much to talk about me, we'll talk about another "friend." This happened a while back but it stays on my mind. My friend met this guy on the dating site. He wants to meet with her, she wants to meet him and so on and so forth. The date was set for him to come to her, but the guy could not make it for some reason or another. The guy lives in another State, so she offered to go to him instead. Fine, I don't have a problem with that. As long as he pays for my plane ticket, of course. But no, she took the bus and paid for it. I asked, "Why would you do that?" "Well, if I wait for him to come, it would take a while." Fair enough.
"I am bringing my good pots and pans and my computer." She bragged. "I can understand the computer, but why the pots and pans?" "Well, I will be cooking when I get there and I want to use my good pots and pans." This conversation is getting retarded, I thought.

She got there and she finds that the guy does not have a washer and dryer and she hates it. I hope he has a servant, I told her. "No, I am doing his laundry and mine now." This woman is retarded, I thought. She stayed with him for a week and came back to tell me more horror stories. He used her computer and was on every porn sites known to mankind and animals like him. "Well, thank God, you left him. Stay away from that bum." "We plan for him to come see me in a month, or as soon as I can put together some money to get him a plane ticket." Oh mylanta, I am getting retarded, why am I even listening to this retarded woman.

Chat tells me that I attract this kind of people in my life. True. But I love it because they're agitating alright, but stimulating and energizing nonetheless. Energizing because I want to bang her head with her good pots and pans. And stimulating because I sit here squeezing my brain, trying to come up with a good reason why I should cut her some slack.

Blinders and Blinded

2011-10-03T08:22:00.007-05:00

Someone said that we all have daddy issues and we manifest this by the kind of men we choose. Of course, it is easy to spot this malady on other people, but when it pertains to us, we are blind to it. You know how we'd talk about other womens' men and we say things like: "Omg, what is she smoking? He's so ugly." And we can't or don't see that we are keeping a man who's not only ugly, he's also lazy.

I have this friend whose boyfriend weighs 300 lbs, with blood sugar that is twice that number and who can eat your grocery at 3x that number. With a shoe size the circumferrence of my waist. Imagine that glob of living cells parked on her (or anyone's) couch everyday, because he doesn't have a car and no place to go because he doesn't have a job. And he doesn't have a job, because? "Because he is working on his disability application." My friend says. "What's his disability?" I asked. "He is badly diabetic." ( I wanted to tell her that if one is diabetic, badly is not a necessary adverb. )

Based on what I have seen of my friends, I wonder and even fear at times that I would become like them.....that out of desperation or loneliness, I would just pick any male just to be able to say that "I have a man." Even at 12 years old, I already knew I didn't want a man without a college degree or without a job. I have to know that he is motivated to improve himself. I did not require one to be rich because a person can be 'rich' from inheritance, but I wanted one who has the integrity and the passion to work and be a provider out of his own sweat.

So I have been pondering: At what point in my life when I would become desperate for a man? And what would cause me to be blind and not see that it's better to be single and lonely than to have a bum causing my bed spring to sag, flipping channels on my tv (thank God I don't have one) and eating my anchovies while waiting for the government check to be approved? I need to stop pondering on this question, because right now I could feel my blood alcohol level going up.

Facebooked to death?

2011-09-23T09:46:00.004-05:00

We blog, we Facebook, we tweet. We want people to know what we're thinking, what we're eating, who we're hating. Or who we're mating. And we feel gratified instantly by the pleasant feedback we receive, then feel dispirited, indented and depressed when no one seems to pay attention. Only 1 like and 2 comments? We have become more lonely.

Now, let me ask you this: If you're at, say, Starbucks, what would you normally do? a). do you sit down and be quiet with your java? b). do you read a book, a paper or shop their store while complaining under your breath how expensive they are? c). or do you call all your friends and put them on a conference call and tell them where you are? It's absurd to think that you'd do c. Most likely you'd do a or b, right? So how come that we broadcast to all our 1,093 friends on Facebook, everything that comes to mind or what's about to enter our mouth? (At Starbucks with....having....)And with pictures even! Because we have become more lonely.

Possessions or experiences are mostly treasured when we can share it with friends, because sharing is giving and giving is virtuous. And Facebook has made sharing so convenient and so instantaneous that we'd think we'd have more free time to spend with loved ones. True, if you consider him sitting across the table from you, focused on that little gadget in his hand, as spending time. We now have more time and more gadgets to help us isolate the very person sitting next to us. It's not sharing that causes our misery, it's convenience and instant---2 words that have made us more lonely. We're supposed to commune with each other, and take the time to sit in the ashes with our friends, and see actual sweat and tears streaming down our faces, (and not have to wonder and interpret cryptic words like huhuhu, argh, or lmaof) that's what makes us humans....not cyber geeks. God created us to be virtuous, not virtual.

Having said that, I have to say that I normally don't follow mine or other peoples advise, but am feeling so virtuous right now that I gots to share this. As soon as I find that FB share button.....

Who killed my muse

2011-09-17T07:06:00.011-05:00

Lexapro killed my muse. And sapped my creative juices together with my emotions. You ate your siblings? Ok. You have sex with ants? Ok. Yup, nothing bothers me, nothing excites me. Like, right now there's some fire in the building across from me and there's about 4 paramedics/firemen rushing in and out. They used to melt my butter--- you know, fire and hardy sturdy firemen? Now, I look at them like they're sausages in fire retardant casings.

You see, 4 months ago I finally had to make a choice: take anti-depressants to keep the lid down on my anxiety attacks but in the process loose the force that makes me excited and exciting, (wishing anyway) OR not take the meds and.....

Well, the doc convinced me to take the first option--"just to help you sail through life with less storm winds". And now am like a drone---and am bored. And boring.

While I wait for my muse to come home (if ever) let's just look at some flowers..

I know, I know. I promised no more cat pictures

Hilarious ad

2011-09-16T12:52:00.003-05:00

While I searched the web for ways to sell Chat's used and unused clothes, I came across this.
If this $1 dollar yoga mat doesn't sell, I can only blame it on the economy, it's definitely not from his writing. Here, read it.

http://seattle.craigslist.org/est/spo/2597736393.html

Sick again

2011-09-16T06:33:00.003-05:00

When I was in Cebu, the first 2 weeks my body struggled to adjust to the heat and the pollution and my throat and lungs worked overtime that I started to run a fever. A doctors visit and a prescription of Bactidol took care of that. Now, I'm back in Dallas and my allergies has totally blocked my sinus .....I can't smell, I can't taste and I can't hear. I am not taking anything over the counter, instead, I just do the natural way---chicken soup. And ice cream.

Forgetting to forget

2011-09-09T06:16:00.005-05:00

Everything that I could mess up, I did. I got locked out of my email address because I kept entering the wrong password. A sane and thinking person would have stopped to think and reflect. Did I do that? No. I went to look for more things to mess with. I decided to go online to view my bills, and proceeded to see if could manage to get locked out of there too. I succeeded. I don't know about you, but have you had one of those days where you feel like a wind up car stuck on the edge of the carpet with the motor roaring, threatening to flip over?

I desperately want to open my head, take out my brain and give it a good washing; scrub it clean from the cobwebs and dusts and get rid of that wrapped in a rubber band feeling. But inspite of this malfunctioning of my brain, it is not without some benefits. You see, there are things in my life right now that makes me sad and anxious---when I am thinking about it. But I forget that I'm supposed to be sad and anxious, so I don't. Ain't that cool?

George W Bush said that when he was young and irresponsible, he was young and irresponsible. I say, now that I'm old and forgetful, I am old and forgetful and seldom do I feel like a wind up car anymore. Most days, I just feel stuck and ready to flip over. But am not worried because I still remember to blog---regardless that it's few and far between.

Simplify

2011-09-03T19:44:00.007-05:00

When people ask me why I continue to pay for an apartment when I am gone most of the time, my answer is : Because I can. (Though not really) I keep this apartment because I love it here. I've never felt this much attachment to anything until this apartment. Maybe it's old age. I didn't even bat an eyelash, or felt any sentimental pang when we sold our home, but I swore once that I will leave this apartment only when I'm in a casket. Other women spend their money on clothes and shoes, I spend mine on this apartment. So when I walked in here yesterday from the airport, I was so giddy, I wanted to twirl like the woman you see in the movies, when the man in a sweeping motion points to a house and tells her: "Yes, baby, this is all yours." Then I opened my eyes and I said, "Oh chit, I have to clean all these?"

I am still drunk from that 17 hour flight time from the East, but at least I can now tell you what day it is and who the President of the United States is. (Oh god.) Today, I scrubbed and vacuumed the dead little insects off of my bath tub, and when I got to the kitchen and checked the pantry, I was awed, amused, and amazed. And disgusted. I have all these stuff? I checked each item and can't honestly say that I really needed them or used them even. Look at all this money sitting and getting expired in this dark shelves!

After 7 months of living minimally in Cebu, buying groceries only as I cook them and not for when "I might need them," I felt so wasteful staring at the unopened boxes, bottles and cans of foods. I lived like this before I left? Well, my self-righteousness didn't last long. I moved the offending items and threw them into a box. I will ship them to Cebu. Oh wait. And Spend the money to ship them to Cebu? Can I use them there? Probably not, but for now, it will relieve me of my guilt.

In the moment

2011-09-02T19:46:00.008-05:00

I am now back in my apartment in Dallas and in spite of this mind numbing jet lag, I can hear my thoughts. I am thinking about how grateful I am to God for this country He has allowed me to be a part of; where the streets are orderly and free from diesel-guzzling, fume-emitting, world war II remnants --the 4-wheeled carcass called jeepneys. And where Haagendaz ice cream is 1/4 the price of what it costs in Cebu. Right now I am very happy. I say right now, because as you well know, I am too restless to linger too long in that happy zone.

My 12 year old car is dead in my garage but I am happy because I am bumming Chat's Land Rover. She asked yesterday : "Do you want to use the Mercedes or the LR?" "What's an LR?" "Mom, you are jetlagged." Well, after 7 months of riding trisikad or habal-habal or the 4-wheeled carcass, my brain wasn't conditioned to think of German engineering, much more a LR?

Because I am perch high on it, I feel tall. It makes me look like I have good credit. But I can't linger in this utopia either because when I pumped gas this morning, my eyes got misty and it wasn't from missing the trisikad. It must be the price of gas.

Strays (into my life)

2011-08-26T20:05:00.008-05:00

"Stray cats and stray kids are soo 2011." This is what Chat said the other day after reading my blog about the kids. I wonder if she meant that by 2012 I would have killed all of them... or that they'd all kill me from stress. I never hide the fact that I am not maternally norturing like most mothers. In fact, I don't remember raising Chat. I woke up one day and found her raising me. "Mom, you don't tell kids 'behave or I'll kill you' Benadryl should be good enough."

If you followed my blog you'd know what I got into....God given assignment to these street kids. (I say God-given because I am not mother Theresa's relative, so on my own I would never choose to do this) Kids whose bodies have been damaged by the elements from living in the street day and night and brains diluted with the intoxicating effects of glue. Sniffing glue has become a lifestyle for them. When I get frustrated about my memory being gone,I don't dwell on it for so long now, I just have to look at these kids. I could never make them stick to a simple plan of meeting on a particular day or a specific time---they will never remember. They live in the moment and that's it. Planning for the next hour or the next day is so foreign to them, that in the 3 months that I've been meeting with them, I have yet to find them in the specified place we planned to meet the day before. I have to go round them up each time.Santino is the same way even after 3 weeks with me. He has no perception of days and time. Every morning I have to remind him of his simple task of bathing and keeping clean. He now has a morning job with my friend Tom, yet, after a week of being there, he'd still forget to go if I don't remind him. But he never forgets to go swimming, all day every day if I let him. Fortunately, my pool membership allows me to add him as my dependent even if he doesn't have my last name. Remember him? In the middle with empty glassy eyes...drunk from glue. To the right is Jack, his parents are both dead and he's been living in the street after a relative made him a workmule and the beating got to be too much. His eyes are now yellowish and am hoping he'd still be alive until I get back. Some friends brought us jackfruit and coconuts.

Grumpy is my last name

2011-08-23T20:20:00.004-05:00

Cebu is not necessarily good for me. At least not for my writing. In Dallas, I live for my blog; almost everything I do and think of I want to share with readers of my blog...it's also my way of releasing pent-up thoughts. But here in Cebu, my thoughts are mostly negative so I would come out sounding like a grumpy old woman if I write about everything I feel. But let me go ahead and be grumpy anyway.

1. There's just too many people. Who can't stop having little people. I don't know how these people can have intimate moments to produce little people when there's no private rooms in their shack and there's at least 10 people in there already. You'd wonder why the rich, who has air-conditioned bedrooms suitable for making little people knows to stop after having 3 or 4? Is it because they have cable tv while the poor only has 3 blurry channels?

2. There's just too many people. And too many contraption with wheels to carry these people around. I can't walk the street without having to worry about being hit by a pedicab, motorbikes, jeepneys and cars--Which most of them could pass as a remnant from Hiroshima.

3. There's just too many people. And they burp proudly, smoke endlessly and spit unsparingly. Next time you're here, observe, and I challenge you to prove me wrong on this one.

4. This really is not my last complaint but I better stop anyway. There's just too many people with very few toilets---at least a working toilet. Not even in our so-called Cebu International Airport.

Ok, so you can say I have OCD and that I'm in the wrong city, mixing with the wrong circle. Well, I can only write what I know. I can't write about something I haven't experienced and really these are not isolated cases. In fact, the other day when I took my boy Santino to go swimming in this members-only pool, some man blew his nose, flicked it on the side of the pool then proceeded to spit.

Lobotomy for the pope or neuter the parents

2011-08-17T16:04:00.006-05:00

Even before I liked kids, I already had the natural feeling of disgust towards these Filipino parents who has no sense to distinguish between a seminal fluid and a phlegm. Again, why the friggin Catholic airheads up there in Italy continues to feed nonsense to the non-thinking poor Filipinos. Birth control is a sin? And putting kids on the street and orphanages is not? And it's virtuous to watch all these phlegm heavy, rugby-sniffing kids on the street begging or stealing, making money for their parents?

I am not reaching out to these kids because I'm nice.....I'm not, I just could not ignore them anymore. And I'm angry. Angry at irresponsible parents. You see, I used to think that these street kids chose to live on the street because they hate discipline at home. God never designed kids as young as 5 years old to not want to be at home and be with a parent. I talked and interviewed all of them and the common denominator between them is lack of attention and food at home so when I told these kids to go home and not worry their parents wondering where they are, they looked at me like I'm an alien descended from crazyland. Their parents know where they are. Their parents doesn't care where they live as long as they come home to bring in the money. At least this is what I've found with the ones I'm working with. Here's Jennifer (in pink) and Asel (in green) they're siblings. I said in my previous blog that Jennifer went home and his father shaved her head and the next day she was back on the street and went into hiding. Hiding from me --not from her father, because she and her sister Asel are tasked to bring home the bacon. Last week they made 200 pesos and they told me they went home only to give the money to "mama to buy Bear Brand". Bear Brand is milk for the baby. Mama just had the 7th baby.
Above picture shows them sorting out the empty plastic water bottles to sell.

Just another day....

2011-08-15T07:48:00.006-05:00

Today is Santino's birthday, exactly a week after I got him, we have a grand celebration of rice, mung bean soup, cake and french fries. Well, at least Santino thought it was grand. He understands that I even have to forego massages and trips because I now have 2 more mouths to feed besides Jordan. And Jordan is at this age now where the only thing he doesn't eat are the pots and pans. But God in His perfect wisdom knew when to bring me another child to take care of. Jordan is 16 years old and still a nice and gentle soul. He wakes up at 530 in the morning, cooks breakfast for all 3 of them, then he makes sure Santino bathe before he goes to school with Gerry Mae, the girl I took in 3 months ago. Now remember, I did not wake up one morning and decided this is what I wanted to do....adopt 2 more kids in my old age. Jordan, Santino, Gerry Mae and their friends.

When fun was over, Gerry Mae told Santino he needs to do the dishes. Gerry Mae is the youngest of the 3 but she bark orders at the 2 boys. She drives Santino crazy but he loves her and calls her "litter box" because she takes care of Winnie's litter box.

Jordan is the cook, the one who does the marketing and tutors Santino. Gerry Mae thinks she is smarter than the 2 of them so she calls them"dumb" and could not stand it when they don't pay attention to her. Now Winnie here, he could care less if you pay attention to him or not. As long as he is full, he is happy.

2011-08-14T18:35:00.003-05:00

Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different Drummer. Let him step to the Music which he hears, however measured or far away. Henry David Thoreau

I follow a different drummer alright.

Buko King--felipe

2011-08-12T00:14:00.000-05:00

Mark Anthony aka Santino

2011-08-10T01:46:00.004-05:00

Today is the second day I have Santino. It felt good waking up knowing that he's no longer under the bridge, dirty and hungry. After we had breakfast, I asked him if he liked any sports and he casually said he liked tennis. "Oh yeah?" "Why do you like tennis?" "Because I won the Milo tournament". Unlike Jordan who never shuts up, Santino hardly speaks. And since I don't have any interest in tennis, it was the end of the conversation. I don't want him to go back to his old life of scavenging, begging and sniffing rugby, but I don't want him to forget his friends or where he came from so we went and brought the regular rounds of noodles. Except this time, Santino is no longer one of them, he is serving them.

After we did the rounds I asked him if he missed playing tennis. He said he sure would like to play again. Why couldn't the kid picked golf? Oh well, so I took him to the store to get him a racket and shoes and at the sports store some guy recognized him. He told me that Santino is a good player and won 4 tournaments out of 5. By golly, we're going to play. Or at least he is.

Chance or destiny

2011-08-09T05:53:00.006-05:00

I'm taking a chance. Why not? Columbus did.
As you can see, I'm already broke. When I first got Jordan he had to wear my shorts and shirt until I got to the store to get him clothes. Now Santino's wearing Jordan's short and my shirt. Their first meal is congee, but I can sleep better now that I got Santino off the street. But I myself may have to be on the street to support these 3.

Here he was remember? Mark Anthony aka Santino.

Discipline or lack of it

2011-08-08T17:39:00.007-05:00

Two things I strongly believe in when it comes to raising kids: discipline and discipline. Based on what I've observed here in the Philippines, there are only two kinds of parents; the ones who perpetually support their kids into adulthood and the ones who are churning out kids to make them into slaves; putting them in the street as young as 5 years old to beg or steal in order to support the parents. The other day, one of my childhood friend told me that he has to show up for work every day regardless that he's suffering from a bad kidney problem. Why? His 3 kids are still dependent on him. And how old are the kids? The youngest is 25 the oldest is 33. Which by the way, are all married. And you know what? his is not an isolated case. This is very common here in the Philippines.

Every human being is created in the image of God, that is a biblical fact. But mylanta, there's just too many of them creations here in the Philippines. Everywhere you go, the streets here are teeming with them. And that's because the priests keep preaching that the man's banana water is sacred and therefore should not be wasted. And these women can't have a whiff of their husbands sweat without them getting pregnant. Not to mention that we have plenty of men who can't discern--- just because it wiggles and has a hole, doesn't mean that it's a bin for sacred water.

I went to see the expo for local products the other day, and I was not surprised to see products showcasing the Filipinos varied talents. Filipinos will step up to the pulpit when given the right training, so why are some parents, if not most, not training their kids in the way that they should go? In America when kids misbehave you'd hear people say "beat them until the white meat shows". You can apply that to both kids and parents here. Yup, until the brown and yellow meat shows.

Of cats and men....(again)

2011-07-29T05:16:00.009-05:00

When a man cuddles with me, it makes me feel needed and wanted, even sultry, but then, quickly it gets to feel retarded that I'd think of telling him: Get off already! (there! I've always wanted to say it). But when Chat's cat sits on my chest and plop his stinky behind on my face, I get cross eyed from his "I'd cuddle with you when I want to" cuteness. But I can't cuddle with my cat here in Cebu. Here's why. Can you even recognize him from the dirt?

I hate to show the above pictures to Chat because she just sent this box of dewormer and grooming kit via Fedex. She can't understand why Winn is full of worms and why he can't sleep with me.

I know you're saying, can we talk about something else? We're sick and tired of hearing about your cat. Well, what else is there to talk about? My life has become so boring, I would have to pawn my kidney so I can afford excitement.

The real vagabonds

2011-07-25T06:44:00.008-05:00

Three days ago, Chat's uncle who's a very close friend of mine was ambushed and killed here in Cebu. The gunman pumped 5 bullets into his chest and he died on the spot. I feel an enormous loss, I have no words to describe it. Yesterday, I was in such a stupor, I thought of running back to Dallas or anywhere just to get the hell out of here, when I had an unexpected visitor. See the boy hugging the ground on the left? That's Arnold.
The first time I met with them, I told them that they need to clean up the area where we're meeting. The next day, Arnold swept the whole area clean. He bragged that he cleaned it all by himself with the broom that one of the boys stole from the hardware store across the street. When I meet with them, we don't do much-- I bring whatever I can afford to feed them and we just hang out and talk. They tell me about their day and I tell them to go home to their parents and stop scavenging and stealing. Well, guess who listened and obeyed? Arnold. He showed up at my door last night with his 3 cousins and told me: "I went home like you told us, see, I am clean now." He told me that Jennifer, the only girl in the group also went home but her father shaved her head bald, so Jennifer is back on the street again. I went to find her today, but I was told she went hiding.

I stocked up on noodles and bought a thermos bottle to carry hot water. Jordan is getting so big now that I can't tell him what to do anymore. So I found a smaller one. I am training her and take her with me to see the boys and warn her that if she falls in love with a homeless boy and she moves in with him, she will be homeless too.
Here's my entourage ---the neighborhood strays. Joshua carries the food for the boys and Em-em to carry the queens chair. And Albert? well, he sees me and just follows without asking where I'm going because he equates my name with food.
Of course they love to come help me because they think it's just the coolest thing that I treat them to a side road eatery.

gold, God, goons

2011-07-20T19:08:00.007-05:00

Let's face it--- kids are not impressed by their parents gold or accomplishments. They don't care that they're driven in a brand new car or their butts are seated on leather seats of your Mercedes on their way to the day care. What they care about is that you're running around with them playing hide and seek or standing in the kitchen baking cookies while they're giddily cleaning the bowl of the chocolate mix with their tongue. That, they can understand and will brag about. And remember.

When Chat arrived the US, I was not working yet, so when she came home from school, she'd see me standing over the kitchen counter. Then soon I started working. I was proud and bragged to myself that "I am doing this all for you." But what does Chat remember? That she arrives from school to an empty house. Then longingly she would recall that day she opened the door and saw me in the kitchen baking cookies for her snack.

By no means I am telling mothers to stop working (if they have to) so they can stay at home with their kids. But you know what? Most mothers don't really have to work outside of the home. I've learned my lesson and I try to impart what I've learned to new parents and I try to make it up to these street kids. I also tell my church friends who has a "feeding ministry" that kids will not understand love from a God who they don't see, if the people who feeds them doesn't know how to love them. I have not arrived, because as I've always said, I don't do kids, but this I say, children and adults don't care what we know, unless they know that we care. We can tell these kids God loves them and recite bible verses and make them memorize it in exchange for food. But the question is: Is that love?

After I left the boys last Saturday, the police raided them because one of the boys was accused of stabbing the jeepney dispatcher across the bridge. So when I came back Sunday, the boys were nowhere to be found, but one was left to look out for me. When they knew it was safe, they came out and I fed them and we talked and they told me they could not stay there anymore.

Yesterday, I stopped by there and could not find any of them. But when I was crossing the skywalk, I found Mark Anthony. I call him my "favorite goon".

Kids....and more of them

2011-07-16T22:27:00.012-05:00

It's overwhelming. They're everywhere. They're young and committing petty crime, with their brains wasted on rugby and who knows what else? So where do I begin and can it be sustained whatever I decide to do with them? Well, I don't have the answer, but I know I can't ignore them anymore. I did not seek help and support from my pastor friends because I just wanted to hang out with them and get to know them. And to let them know that though their minds are lost, God knows exactly where they are.

Around noon yesterday I went to assess the situation. Meet Mark Anthony, Jack and Lars. Under the bridge half dazed from sniffing rugby. And bummed out from begging and stealing and hunger.

I told them I will be back around 530pm when it's cooler. The 3 of them said they'd wait for me. I came back with Jordan and look, I have the whole gang waiting for me.
They showed me their cave under the bridge and held up the sign that they took with the item they stole from the mini-store. It's not funny, but you have to find the humor in it.
I told them about being a mother, how it must have pained their mother not knowing where they are and wondering if they're still alive. But most of them except for Mark Anthony who said that his mother told him to get out of her life and not come back, the rest said the same thing; their parents beat them up when they didn't obey. In other words, they want to live in a world without authority, rules and guidelines. Before I fed them bread and orange juice, Jordan shared his experiences with them; how he was also a street kid like them. Until I found him and he had to straighten up or I'd beat him to a pulp if he disobeyed.
Rio pulled me aside so he can have his picture taken, all by himself. He said he didn't want the "dirty" kids around him. Then he asked if I am on Facebook. I said no, I am not. He proceeded to mouth off the password to his Facebook account, which was a series of numbers. When I asked why too many digits and no letters, he said it's his cell phone number. Daaang, you have a cell phone? He said he did, until the police caught him.
In all this excitement, can you spot me among them? Well, take a good look.. so when you hear of my death, you'll know what killed me.

Work, the cure for hunger

2011-07-16T02:04:00.006-05:00

Chat has sponsored several kids here in Cebu but this one I've taken a special interest because of the circumstance that she's in. Her mother is a drunk and suffers from asthma and kidney problem, but she does laundry for people and is a good worker....when she's not drinking. I am training this kid to work because as I've said, the cure for hunger is work. And she's come a long way, in her writing too.

After she worked, I gave her water to bathe, food and new clothes. And some money which I am training her to learn to budget. But she said her mother wants half of it, I told her it's ok--you still have to budget regardless if it's a million or a dollar.

She did this whole area all by herself, in less than an hour. Without any supervision.
I mean, no human supervision.

Food or lack of it

2011-07-14T17:04:00.007-05:00

My cousin came to town to see her mom and also celebrate her grandmas death anniversary. And of course, that means food.

On the way home, I passed by this tree---very pleasing to the eyes, but I don't know what it's called.Then as I crossed the bridge closer to my place, this is what I saw. Hungry and addicted children. It's overwhelming to see them hungry after I had just eaten too much good food. But I've come to conclude that the cure for hunger is a job. And yet where do we begin, when it's the parents who have failed these kids?

Wrong side of 45

2011-07-13T19:17:00.006-05:00

I have been on "the wrong side of 45" for several years now. When people say it's not fun being old, it's true... so don't do it. I have blogged about emails spamming my inbox selling me motorized scooter and how that rubbed my scales the wrong way. Well, if that wasn't insulting enough, the floodgate has opened to more personal emails.

They're now telling me, that at my age, I should get a "genie bra for the much needed lift." I wanted to email them back and tell them, no, thank you. My nipples down on my knees are just cool. And then there's this group of lawyers, even with a real persons name as the sender, giving me a final notice to join the class action suit for a "hip replacement recall." I don't know, but I don't think I want to give them back this hip, wherever and whoever it came from.

You see why getting old is not fun? It's not enough that my body tells me so everyday, there are actually people out there, meeting in boardrooms, sipping their java and blowing a camel, thinking of ways how to come into my life and insult me. And without subtlety. But then again, you should not beat around the bush with an old person. You want a man? Don't bother going to young peoples dating site. Go diretly to senior dating.com or over 45 dating.com. They have to get straight to the point, because after all, I may not live long enough for that green banana in my dining table to ripen. And they have to be quick while I'm still able to differentiate the numbers; from my daughter's phone number to that of my credit card, to buy whatever it is they're selling to old people.

Of cats and human litter

2011-07-10T20:19:00.007-05:00

Ok, Ok. I hear you---enough about cats already.

He's very Westernized. He's getting a tan or an intake of vitamin D.

He's allowed to stay inside for now because he lacerated his paw from a broken glass and I don't want it infected. He likes to stay under the bench. Or under my computer table.

I bury my head under the litter box and pretend that everything is cool in the world. The reality is, I've seen it all, yet, it still overwhelms me to see this. Mother and daughter living under the bridge. Kids found that sniffing glue suppresses hunger. Then it's too late, they're addicted to it.

Never say never

2011-07-07T16:17:00.009-05:00

I don't do kids and cats. That used to be my mantra but they keep straying into my life. Let me in, let me in.
Well, should I say more about the cat? Besides giving me allergies with his dander what's his contribution?
At least Jordan can grill. Remember him then?

Well, he's grown. And if Oprah can have her chef, I can too. If you can call frying a banana as cooking.

Too old for that

2011-07-05T03:12:00.007-05:00

I'm not anti-social, I just prefer to be a loner. Though sometimes my preferrence for solitude makes Howard Hughes look sociable, I have no problem making friends....because as Chat likes to say: If they're hospice bound, insane criminals or just plain insane, I attract them. True enough, two months after I arrived here in Cebu, this bipolar neighbor of mine found me. Or maybe I found her.

But as quick as we bonded, was how quick I had to desist from her because I have no energy to tackle her manic and argumentative moods. I understand that to choose friends who are only like me is a form of narcissism, but I just could not hack it having to defend my position every time I say something. I could take her opinion about my opinion, but I'm too tired and too brain dead to be on the defensive position all the time.

I am an introvert in the sense that most of the time I am preoccupied with my own thoughts, but I love social contact; I enjoy people and their stories and I long to be with people---just not in big doses. Or with bipolar beings. Being with people 3 days in a row (or one hour with her) would land me some place with men and women in white coats and hardly readable handwriting. And where most of their supply gowns are straightjackets. No wonder I love cats. They don't talk back so I don't have to argue. And no wonder I'm still single.

Look who's older (2)

2011-07-04T02:03:00.008-05:00

I don't usually celebrate my birthday except when Chat wants to make a big deal out of it. But this year I wanted to make a big deal out of it, so I celebrated it for 2 days. Last Saturday was the pig extravagansa; we grilled the ribs, roasted the head, braised the legs and stewed the rest. The "hood" ate all day, then took home everything that was left. Then yesterday was the icing on the cake; I took my "writing students" to go with me to a town south of here. We rode the airconditioned bus, which was a treat for everyone because none of them had been on a bus --more so an airconditioned one.

Chicken drumstick, rice and hot soup for breakfast after we got off the bus. They asked for hot soup because they said the air on the bus was so cold for their stomach. It made sense, until they said they want a cold soda too.

We then took off to the countryside and hang around by the water.

And by lunch time I was very tired. And broke. But very happy.

Look who's older..

2011-07-02T05:06:00.008-05:00

Chat asked me what I wanted for my birthday, so I told her I want a pig. "And what are you going to do with it?" I told her to just look at my blog after she sends me the money. The goat snuggling up with the pig.
I wonder what the USDA agents and the homeowners association would do if I do something like this in my apartment in Dallas. I told the neighborhood boys I am buying a pig (or Chat is) for my birthday but I have no guests and they can cook the pork in any way they like and whoever happens to come by gets to eat. I didn't get to eat because I had so much fun because this is what my dad used to do---open house to the hoi polloi. (Well, the hoity toity is welcome too if they can stand the fun.)

Again....the future (fill in the blank)

2011-06-26T06:01:00.013-05:00

That's why I love cats because the relationship is straightforward---you don't entertain any hope that you can train them. They train you.

With kids, it's different. You silently believe that you can bend them and mold them. Into becoming writers. Best selling authors even. Or just do what I tell them to do. But....this one here, all her writings are about going to school and brushing her teeth when the sun rises. But she goes to school only once every full moon or when her brother beats her up all the way to the school house.

Then there's this one. She insists on being a screenwriter. I keep telling her: Narrative, narrative. And she keeps writing a dialogue....with her dog or with her dead father.
This one, for the life of me I can't make her stand up to read her story.
Then here's the oldest of them. She insists that her story is in her head and no need to write it. "I want to tell it orally." She says. I said: This is a writing class. And she says no, she wants to tell it orally. With pictures even.
And this one? Of all of them he has the best ideas for a story, if only I could make him write more than a teaser 5 lines. (Or make him stop smoking. Or at least wait if he lives past the age of 11) I tell him he would make a good journalist or an author but he said he wants to be a doctor, not a writer. I encouraged him and told him that his chances are great of becoming a doctor, especially since only he can read his own handwriting.

It's food nonetheless

2011-06-23T05:50:00.009-05:00

Before 6 a.m. this morning I was already out of my apartment to get some fresh air in the country and visit my buddy Ken, down south. I needed more caffeine drip but Ken wanted to go to his favorite restaurant because "they have huevos rancheros", the Mexican omelette he really likes. I thought, yeah, I want to see this place he's been so excited about. Well, here we are.

You see that crispy fried fish head? That's not mine.
After we ate, we walked towards the town square and passed by this. Crispy, crunchy "adidas"...chicken fingers.
We then took a bus and headed farther south and strolled around the market and found more .......food.

Why bother with modern ovens?

The Future....(fill in the blank)

2011-06-22T00:39:00.008-05:00

Meet the future authors. That's what I'd want them to be, but I don't know what the future holds for these kids. It was not out of the goodness of my heart that I started teaching them, but I miss my writing group in Dallas and it's so expensive to buy books here in Cebu. So I thought I'd invest in notebooks and pens and beat these kids into submission and make them writers.
These kids come with their own unique story: One of them has a mother who is very sick but when she is able to get up, she drinks herself to death and the girl on the front right would have to pull her out of the ditch or from along the road and drag her home. She doesn't know who or where her father is. The oldest in the group doesn't know her mother or father because her mother left her at the place where she worked and told her co-worker, the woman who now takes care of this girl that she can have her. The mother has 4 kids and all have been given away. Except for one, all of them are not living with their parents.

And after only 3 meetings, they've all encouraged me with their progress. They're all stepping up to the plate and coming up with interesting thoughts and ideas. One of them even produced a short but interesting narrative. And the youngest one who is 9 years old wrote a dialogue and when I asked her how she came up with it, she said it's what she created in her mind. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the future Pulitzer awardee.

The world according to...

2011-06-20T02:41:00.008-05:00

I believed you when you said you would come back after the storm.

I meant what I said until the cute fireman showed up.

You argue like cats and dogs, while we have a bigger problem.

Speaking of Children

2011-06-18T00:41:00.005-05:00

Here's a report issued by the Chief of Police in Houston, Texas back in the late 60's. It was entitled: 12 Rules for Raising Delinquent Children.
( These twelve rules were originally created by Dr. Paul Cates and published in Strictly for Parents )

1. Begin with infancy to give the child everything he wants. In this way, he will grow up to believe the world owes him a living.

2. When he picks up bad words, laugh at him. This will make him think he's cute. It will also encourage him to pick "cuter' phrases that will blow off the top of your head later.

3. Never give him any spiritual training. Wait til he's 21 and then let him "decide for himself."

4. Avoid use of word "wrong". It may develop a guilt complex. This will condition him to believe later, when he is arrested for stealing a car, that society is against him and he is being persecuted.

5. Pick up everything he leaves lying around --books, shoes and clothing. Do everything for him so he will be experienced in throwing all responsibility onto others.

6. Let him read any printed matter he can get his hands on. Be careful that drinking glasses and the silver ware are sterilized, but let his mind feast on garbage.

7. Quarrel frequently in the presence of your children. This way they will not be too shocked when the home is broken up later.

8. Give a child all the spending money he wants. Never let him earn his own. Why should he have things as tough as you had them?

9. Satisfy his every craving for food, drink and comfort. See that every sensual desire is gratified. Denial may lead to harmful frustration.

10. Take his side against neighbors, teachers, and policemen. They are all prejudiced against your child.

11. When he gets into real trouble, apologize for yourself by saying, " I never could do anything with him."

12. Prepare for a life of grief. You will be apt to have it.

Stuffed chicken

2011-06-13T19:02:00.007-05:00

I am very consistent. I am always behind on modern gadgets, so naturally I am 30 years behind on this turbo oven. And boy, do I love it!

I was experimenting on stuffing the chicken with glutinous rice with sweet Chinese sausage. I love the contrast of the sweet and salty taste of the meat. Soak overnite or 3-4 hours if you don't have time, then blanch it or cook it till the last 5 minutes of it being done. Brining the chicken overnite makes it real juicy and I find that it's really necessary when using the turbo.

A properly punctuated life

2011-06-12T18:03:00.003-05:00

When my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer and soon died, it spinned me 360 degrees 5 times over, and it was the turning point in my life. But unlike the English writer Lynne Truss after her sister died, I didn't publish a book bemoaning the problem of poor punctuation in today's world. Eats, Shoots & Leaves is the title of her book and she illustrates it by telling a story of a panda who enters a cafe, orders a sandwich, eats it then pulls out a gun and starts shooting. When a waiter asks the panda to explain his action, he hands him a poorly punctuated wildlife guide and asks him to look up the description of a panda. It reads: "Panda. Large, black and white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves."

You see why proper punctuation can mean life or death? When I was young(er) I used to thrive on deadlines and I was constantly operating on an exclamation point, never knowing when to pause or stop. I know God meant for us to use every punctuation ever invented; every dot or tittle in any sentence or in real life is meant to have a purpose. But getting older with my now tired bones, I tend to apply the period sometimes too much..... in other words, I have become too lazy. Too lazy that I often have difficulty re-punctuating, especially a sentence like this: "Not getting any better. Come at once."

The other white meat

2011-06-10T17:08:00.005-05:00

Do you know why in the US they promote pork as "the other white meat"? I figured it's because if you look at a piece of bacon, you see more white than red. When people cringe after I tell them that I love pork fat, I have to point out the fact that we all have our addictions; some to caffeine and some to gossiping, while I'm simply addicted to grease the same way Joan Rivers is addicted to plastic surgery. But I found a way to lessen your horror. I drain down the fat into lard, then use the lard to make pastries and I eat pork belly with zero guilt. All day long.

By the way don't let this UFO like contraption scare you. It's a convection oven and can make a pig crackle into gorgeous pork in less than an hour.

Indulge me

2011-06-09T18:53:00.005-05:00

You know how it is when someone talks about their grandkids constantly and you can't relate to it because you don't like kids? They'd talk about how cute and funny it was, whatever the kid said or did and you're like, "shut up, I don't share your excitement fool." Well, I know that's what you'd say about me and my ramblings about "my cat". But indulge me anyway, at least I'm not posting copies of the jihadist Osama's porn collection.

This is how we hang most days. He never stay far from me.

I don't let him inside the house because he loves to roll in the dirt, the same way I love to roll around in a 600 count sheets. But the other day, he pussyfooted into my bathroom.
He's not a designer cat but I feed him designer foods and he's always begging for more...not necessarily because he's hungry but because he loves the taste of Whiskas.

Paint instead

2011-06-06T09:51:00.009-05:00

I grew up around alcoholics; my dad and all my brothers were, but back then we didn't use that fancy word --my sister and I simply called them drunks. I didn't complain about dad's drinking except on days when it took a long time for him to pass out, because that meant I had to hide longer in the corn field. And I never heard my mom complain either, because she was too busy having her anxiety attacks.
It's not fun living with an alcoholic, I know, but if you're in that situation right now and divorce is too costly, just stock up on colored pentel pens and invite your artistic friends over. Or even the neighborhood kids.

Then send him to pick up some milk the next morning. And make sure he doesn't pass by a mirror on his way out.

Photo source: latenightmistakes.com, People of Walmart

Kids

2011-06-04T06:42:00.003-05:00

Today is the third Saturday since my friends and I started teaching the neighborhood kids about Jesus. I round them up and bring them to my yard, and here they come, helping with the chairs to earn their keep of the "lugaw" or porridge. .
One of the kids asked me yesterday if I am going to give them some "surprise toys". When I get rich, I'll do that, I said. Anyway, I got them this and they told me they didn't need the pencil, I should have just bought more bubble gum.

Wedding or Marriage

2011-05-31T19:25:00.012-05:00

The bride and the groom could not stop kissing after they exchanged regurgitated vows and we could not wait for them to be proclaimed husband and wife so we can proceed to the reception. So we can eat their food and guzzle their liquor. They honeymooned in an exotic island --so exotic that even the parasite that landed them in the hospital had an exotic name, but no worry they're in love. Sugar booger remember, in sickness and in health. Yes, I do. They ride on the rainbow. And then life hits them in the face. With twice the emotional upheaval as the preparation for the wedding, they're now scrambling to postpone the divorce. And hopefully stay alive in the process.

The above is a typical scenario of a typical life cycle of a man and woman in heat --which soon turned to hate. And what's even sadder is when they end the relationship obsessed with destroying each other. I knew of a woman who went to sleep comforting herself with a prayer for her ex-man to come back crawling and begging for her to take him back. "And I pray that he gets leprosy and be so broke." She says. Well, I can't help but wonder. "And would you take back a man with melted ears and zero bank account?" "Oooh, it depends." She raised her nose up in the air. It depends? Depends on what? If he still looks good minus his nose? Or how low he's crawled and how good he can make you feel by his begging?

At the start of a relationship we use words like, "he's the greatest, he's so good to me I won't know how to live without him." Then we find that we'll die if we remain with him--the ideal soon becomes an ordeal, so off we go and find a new deal. And there the cycle begins again. Or maybe not. Maybe I'm just jaded. But really, I still believe in love --that you should not give up on love, because love will take you to the finish line-- even if it makes you end up looking like this.

It's all a big deal

2011-05-29T09:31:00.005-05:00

I woke up this morning with the neighborhood kids all calling my name, they're ready to go to church with me, they said. I don't do kids, but off to church we go.
They were determined to have fun, so I thought I should too. I told them we're going to start a rock band. They didn't understand what I meant....but I do....hmmmm.In this part of the world, everything is a big deal. Just look at our garbage on top of the garbage with wheels.
In Dallas, Chat hates their homeowners association more than facial hair, while I simply hate frogs more than anything---especially when they don't turn into a prince. Or when they park outside my door like they're part of my decor.

It's a cat, it's a pig

2011-05-26T04:44:00.009-05:00

Finally, I am done with my commercial bread baking class. We learned recipes for breads intended for a bakery that would cater to the masses ---not for an upscale clientele. It's the kind of bread I was used to when I was growing up. For our final day bonus recipe, our instructor gave us the recipe for "lechon bread" and showed us how to shape it--- a "roast pig" bread. I just could not make mine look like a pig so I told my instructor it's a cat. "If you stare at it long enough it could pass for a pig" my instructor said after she chuckled looking at my bread.
Here she is showing us the steps.
She's right, the more I stare at it, you can psych yourself to make it look like a pig. (you can laugh out loud here)But then again, I'm not sure because it also looks like a catfish.
We did about 14 recipes, but all of us were only excited about this pan de sal.

Whatever

2011-05-24T17:16:00.005-05:00

I once told you that I was looking forward to arriving at 50 because I felt that when a person turns 50, he or she is entitled to get ridiculously crazy or charmingly insane without having to explain. And really, no one should be questioning that because we have paid our dues.(however much that is) So when I turned 50, I milked every opportunity to go insane and my only explanation is that "because I want to." Now that I'm way past 50, my new obsession is this ugly, scrawny, why-did-you-stray into my life cat. Yesterday was the second day of my baking class and I got very anxious sitting there, I didn't want to stay because I wanted come home and be with "my cat." When I came home, here he was oogling at this cuter-than-him baby cat. Don't ask me where this baby cat came from...there's thousands of them here.

I really am bored with my baking class because it's too long..6 hours a day for 4 days, but I go because I look forward to the lunches they serve. The first day it was grilled pork belly, so even though I don't really want to go today, I will because I don't want to miss lunch. Ok, so I'm ghetto.

Baking Class

2011-05-23T17:06:00.007-05:00

Yesterday was the first day of my baking class. Three more days left. The lady in the red apron is the teacher.I got bored and sleepy the first 3 hours, I only woke up when we started baking and I smelled the bread coming out of the oven.

Double my meds?

2011-05-20T20:13:00.004-05:00

Chat says it is very difficult raising a parent. So I behave. I take my meds. My anti-psychotic meds. Because when I misbehave, Chat threatens me and says things like: I will double your meds and disown you. Well, am not so worried about that part, it's when she ends her sentence with, "and then I disinherit you."

I have a love-hate relationship with medication. The word "pharmacy" in Greek means poison. And yet I religiously take mine. Religiously-- meaning, when I remember them. I don't really suffer from depression, but my real malady is my anxiety attacks which is triggered by anything that I perceive as stressor to my perceived ordered and comfortable set-up. A friend dying or a changed schedule will send me on a tailspin just the same. Three ways to handle anxiety attacks; take anti-depressants on a daily basis, take a sedative at the time of the attack or winging it on a prayer. The first one is the most effective unless you want the 4th option which would be Mr. Cuervo or Mr. Beam. Then there's the fermented grape juice.

You're in a hurry? Go somewhere else...

2011-05-16T02:09:00.008-05:00

I can't believe I've been here in Cebu for over 3 months now and I haven't done much in terms of pleasure trips or pleasurable activities. Unless you consider construction work pleasurable.

I've sworn to myself that I will never want to buy, sell, rent or do business here because I don't want to have to deal with any offices with the word "government" attached to it. And also because here in the Philippines, the people have no sense of urgency, (which, of course, to some degree has some merit in itself) and I equate "slow" with laziness. After several months dealing with business owners, store clerk, construction workers and electricians, I have concluded that the word "urgent" applies only to other people but not Filipinos-- it matters not if they're waiting for a jeepney or a kidney transplant.

I had to demolish an old shack.
Now what do I do with this open space?Uhuh... use it for this. If there's one thing I'd like to wish, it would be that I can go back in time when I hated cats.

Whatever sells...

2011-05-13T17:59:00.004-05:00

Man peddling star apples.

Fixing a flat tire for the pedicab. The pedicab transport people at 5 pesos per person, about 10 us cent.

When I was growing up I sold everything, cigarettes, peanuts, vegetables, but I've never tried going around selling goats.

When I was hungry.....

2011-05-11T19:00:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday, we had teamed together with Jacob Ong and his group to do another feeding in the island of Olango. They provided the physical food, my group provided the spiritual food. I didn't come with the group so I had to take the pumpboat by myself.

Yes sir, No sir.

2011-05-09T20:27:00.006-05:00

Twenty-five years ago, my first real job in America was in a law firm and I would never forget what my boss told me when I used 'sir' before his name. "Ritchie, don't call anybody "sir" or ma'am, because that would automatically put you in a subservient position." Well, I'm here in the Philippines for 3 months now, and it drives me crazy that everywhere I turn I hear "sir" or "ma'am" as if that's a persons name in itself. I can't get myself to feel comfortable calling anyone besides their first name and it makes me cringe when I am addressed other than my first name.

Someone says I'm too Americanized and I say, so what's wrong with being practical? Filipinos are title crazy, we all know that; what with, Attorney this, Engineer that, Mr. or Mrs. so and so. Aren't we just too drunk with ourselves? Come on, calling someone sir or ma'am is not being respectful--- it's being colonial. Otherwise, why are you not addressing your maid who is the age of your grandmother, "ma'am" and address your old and hunchback driver "sir." Sometimes we have to ask ourselves why we do what we do and as my black co-worker used to say when she was unhappy with our white boss: "We're not at the plantation no mo' so I ain't doing that."
And you say that all I do is find something to complain about. Well, that's true, so you can call me crazy, just don't call me "ma'am." Ok?

Of Cats and....

2011-05-05T20:14:00.002-05:00

When I was growing up, we always had animals around us; we had dogs, cats, goats, cows and carabaos. And if you consider frogs and big house lizards animals we had plenty of them too. I never felt a connection to any of them except for the carabao that I used to ride on. So it is safe to say that I was not an animal lover like most people are. So when I heard people talk about their pet dog, or their pet cat like they're their kids, I'd roll my eyes and say under my breath: "You're 1 french fry short of a happy meal."

I didn't even fall prey to Chat's constant nagging for us to have animals in the house when she was young. Then she got married and that gave her license to do whatever she wants, in her house, right? So my misery began. I fell in love. With her cat. I've never known such pure joy until we had this snotty, stubborn, you'll-do-what-I tell you, cat. I won't tell you how many times I've cried when he was sick, how many nights I'd lay awake wondering how that cat managed being alone when Chat was out of town on business. Needless to say, I missed him so bad when I left Dallas to come here in Cebu.

And now I have this new source of misery and joy. After being here for 3 months, I began to get attached to this stray cat who attaches himself to me. He sits and waits at my door and talks to me, then he'd follow me around purring. And unlike Chat's cat, this one here considers me his family and not a member of his staff. (You see how I now sound like those people I talked about?) So last week, when he stopped eating and won't move or talk to me anymore, I got despondent. I had my helper wrap him up in a towel and we took him to the vet a few houses down. He was fine until we opened the towel to reveal his eyes. He clawed his way out and ran-- faster than last year's winning race horse. While the doctor and I stood there helpless. I went home and felt like the world had collapsed on me, that I had no more reason to live for. I didn't see him until two days later. He showed up at my door healthy and feisty. And as I am writing this he's at my door trying trying to claw his way inside. He's purring and I am happy.

Forgive if you want to live

2011-05-02T20:46:00.002-05:00

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."
--Martin Luther King, Jr.

When my newspaper guy delivered the paper this morning, he didn't say good morning or anything, instead, he pointed to the headline and said: Osama is dead, Osama is dead. And he said it with such jubilee in his voice. I told him the newspaper is wrong, because I saw Osama at the restaurant with other bearded men eating pork barbecue and drinking San Miguel beer. He then said: "I thought you'd be happy because you're from America." I then got serious with him and explained why no one should rejoice over someone's death, even if he's the enemy. My reasoning is this: If someone killed one of my family member and the killer is caught and made to serve prison time or put to death by lethal injection, that is never going to make my dead loved one alive. Nor does the punishment sufficient enough for me to feel satisfied that justice is done. Besides, there is no real justice here on earth, period.

I am always reminded of this woman whose family, all 8 of them were killed by her estranged husband. Several years later, she was asked if she was able to forgive her ex-husband. Her reply was immediate: "Oh, I had to forgive right away because I do not want him to own me too." That is wisdom. Hatred is never the solution to anything.

To think or Not to think

2011-04-29T20:25:00.003-05:00

I am a foreigner to my own country of birth. For one, I have to familiarize myself again of how my people think. And two, for thinking that my people even think at all. I say this because of my everyday experience here the last 3 months, compounded by this weeks dealing with the prima care staff. I got very sick again, same symptoms I had in 2009. You ask why I didn't go to the ER? Trust me, as long as I am coherent and can think for myself, I am not going there...at least not HERE. In Cebu.

Scene 1: I walk in to the reception desk of Prima care clinic. Lady asked me to fill out paper on what I want done. I give the paper back and she told me to go to the Cashier to pay. (Remember: No money, no treatment.)I went and then I asked cashier if I can get my temp done before my blood test. "I don't know ma'am, you have to ask reception." Blood pressure up and now at boiling point while shivering from chills. I
sidle up to the reception."Miss, can I get my temp taken before my blood work?" "I don't know ma'm. Ask them at the back." Blood and horn now spurting out of my head. I looked around for an ax. And murder her. Didn't find any.

Scene 2: Eva Braun called me to sit down and clinch my fist. Her "look" made me behave. Unable to get blood on left arm she went for my right arm without saying anything. I'm going to behave. "Miss, can you get my temp when you're done?" "No, it's not included in the service." I looked around for a match. I wanted to burn down the whole place and didn't care if she was Hitler's wife.

I walked past the cubicle of the half-wit cashier and the smiling robots at the front desk. I sat and behave in my corner, but Even with my brain dissolving fever I was still able to come up with a solution to this country's misery. And it's not money. But a good supply of sharp ax, lighter fluid and matches.

Happy resurrection!!!

2011-04-23T16:14:00.003-05:00

If Christ is not risen from the dead, then we are still in our sins and if our hope is only in this life, then we are most pitiable. 1 Cor 15:12-20

Tradition that kills

2011-04-21T21:01:00.008-05:00

Now I know why I am so messed up in the head. I came from this country who believes that self mutilation is cool and enough to atone for your sins. WARNING: IT'S GRUESOME PLS. WATCH WITH CAUTION.

Jesus said that He died that we may live and live abundantly. The only atonement for our sins that God will accept and will reconcile us back to Him is the death of His son on the cross. We were bought with a price: The blood of His Son and not with gold or silver or blood of bulls and goats. Our part is to admit that we have sinned and that Jesus paid for them on the cross. We are saved by faith and not by works, so this works of flagellation and crucifixion is simply horse crap and for the stupid and ignorant.

When I was growing up, our whole village took Holy Week seriously. We were sad from Wednesday to Friday,and in my household, it was a sin to smile or laugh during these days. "You can't be happy, Jesus is dead this week." My parents would tell me. And I better not bathe on that Saturday or I'll be accused of bathing with the "bad Jews, as they clean the blood from their hands."

Thank God, that I read the bible and now freed from man's deadly tradition and the grip of the misguided priests.

It's complicated

2011-04-20T10:12:00.002-05:00

Politics or Religion is a volatile topic to discuss, but I've observed that when the discussion is about men or women, you're always left hanging because each claim to have it together. Men says women are conflicted, and we women says men are so complicated. Well, some woman made this observation and I'm not sure what to say about it.

The nice men are ugly.
The handsome men are not nice.
The handsome and nice men are gay.
The handsome, nice and heterosexual men are married.
The men who are not so handsome, but are nice men, have no money.
The men who are not so handsome, but are nice men with money think we are only after their money.
The handsome men without money are after our money

Just chillin

2011-04-19T05:46:00.008-05:00

I had too much of the city this week so yesterday I took the bus and went to visit some preacher friends of mine who live in the southern end of Cebu. It's a 2 hour ride. After we walked around the public market we came to this place. Some German guy owns this place, he rents two rooms of his house and serves delicious German foods. We spent all afternoon here just chilling, then I took the bus back home.
You see why I had to get out of the city? This is a garbage truck. That's right, the truck is a garbage itself, but some days it really works and comes to pick up our garbage. Mostly around election time.

Musing, longing, who cares

2011-04-16T23:07:00.005-05:00

Not so long ago, I had power surges....hot flashes. I would feel the bottom of my spine smoking and burning like someone just lit my behind, (as in a rocket launch) then I would turn red in the face and sweat profusely. I was miserable. And so was everyone else around me, because behind all that energy was the raging blood pressure. My blood pressure was bordering on dangerous, but I was able to think, I was quick on my feet and I had plenty of energy to be irreverent and sharply disagreeable. Then my doctor started messing with my life and threatened me to take medications to lower my blood pressure or the worms will sign my death certificate sooner than I'd prefer.

So now, I have low blood pressure, low income and low IQ. You can now insult me to my face and it would take weeks before I can figure out what you just did. But I still have urges to want to kill annoying people though (and just tell God they died) but I'm too lethargic now to pick up a bolo to do it. I had fun when I had hypertension...... Now, I stare and drool on the keyboard trying to figure what this musing is all about to begin with. Well, I'm tired, I need to go take a nap, but should I eat breakfast first? Now where's my glasses so I can go find my teeth. So I can eat. Oooh mylanta, the cost of being alive.

Memory or lack of it

2011-04-15T10:09:00.005-05:00

When I forget that worrying is bad for your health, I worry about my loss of memory. Today, I got very frustrated because I could not find my glasses. I am not totally dependent on this glasses as long as I am in the house, in fact, I don't use it around the house. (I find that my house stays clean when I don't have them on.)But I am totally useless and dangerous without them on outside of my familiar surroundings. As I was going out the door this morning I could not find my glasses, and with this postage-stamp-size apartment I got, you'd think that finding it would be easy. I turned the place upside down, but they were nowhere to be found. I got agitated, weary, worried. I thought food would help calm my nerves, so I opened the refrigerator and you guessed it.....my extra set of eyes were cooling nicely in the middle shelf of the refrigerator. Instead of feeling happy that I found them, I got more mad because I know someone placed them there, I just can't remember who.

2011-04-12T22:12:00.000-05:00