Plastic surgery. We all could use one. But seriously, I'd be very afraid to mess with it. Well, can you blame me?

And why oh why Mickey.

The boys are adjusting well on their own back in the farm. I am already missing them even before I am gone. They think they're so cool now.

But they also think they were cool back then. The 4th one on the left is one of the 2 I will be taking to the farm when I get back from Dallas.

Here's the other one.

Someone asked why I didn't take girls instead. Because girls get pregnant and guess what then. Need I say more?

Men or boys

When I told Chat that I'm "talking" to someone, (term used by giddy high school kids and graduate students with daddy issues) she said: "So what disease does this man have, since you always like them old and hospice bound?" "He's younger than you, he's very healthy" "Mom, then that means he's got the 'no money illness' because you just don't pick the normal ones." I wish Chat doesn't know me that well.

Several years back, right after my husband died, I was having lunch with a friend of mine who was at the time 55 years old and never been married. He said: "I envy you because you are never without a man, while I could never find a woman." I was surprised by his observation because I was oblivious to that  fact of my life.  I had to think it through and let his statement sink in. Then I realized that he was right. Ever since I could remember, even in my early childhood, I always surrounded myself with men; I preferred the company of my older brothers and their friends over my sister. When  I married at 17 my husband then became the only source and focus of my existence. (I was suffocating him, he said, and made him swore off women. For a few weeks anyway.)  To this day, whenever I come into emotional or relationship difficulties, I am never comforted unless I tell a male friend--first.  I have great female friends, but the comfort and solace they give me is nothing compared to when a male friend tells me: "Enough of that crying shit already, go kick some ass."

Men handle things differently; they won't let you brood over a broken heart, they don't have the vocabulary for that to communicate. They can go on and on about their reconditioned Harley, or why they prefer tits over legs, but affairs of the heart? There's Bud or Jim Beam for that.

I'm losing my point here, oh, yes, Chat said if I get serious with this "boy" she's going to put me in a nursing home. "I will declare you incapable and I will send the boy home, by boat." "He's European, his exchange rate is higher than my US dollar." I tried to bargain. "Then he can pay for his own boat fare." I think she means no way I can have fun.

1. I think I miss mine. I'm still single.

2. The same boat but different accomodation.

3. I plan ahead, but just far enough to get me excited.

4. I stay fit, but just so I can go back and forth to the dining table and choose my own food.

5. I never listen to anyone.

6. How high?

7. I'm a loner

8. You'd need speed to stay awake so you don't get eaten by the cheetah.

9. When I'm stressed, I take no. 8

10.Amateurs are mostly adventurous

11.No argument here.

"If only you're 20 years younger, we would be perfect."  If I was 20 years younger, I won't even give you the initials of my name. Or the sweat off my arse. But no I didn't tell him that, because really, as far as I'm concerned, I'm perfect for everything and everyone.

I have lots of male friends because I love men, (more than women) for the simple reason that I  could spend time in close proximity with a man and our brainwave will not synchronize our menstrual cycle and produce 2 pit bulls. So when my friend teased me about being "old" I simply replied by saying that I may not be in running condition but I walk well, and complete with new parts; hip, knee, cornea.  And porcelain choppers.

"I am Anthony Bourdain. I write, I travel and I'm hungry for more." Yup. My culinary bad boy is coming to my town...in Dallas.

Today, Chat emailed me and subject line said "November 9" I thought: Oh chit, she's getting married again. But then on the next line it said, "You have seat 2c to see your boy in November. Dinner with Anthony friggin Bourdain."

I had to blink several times make sure I didn't have floaters in my eyes. I had to reread it and I had to ask why. "Hopefully, this will occupy your mind so you will stop looking at more land for me to buy." Ok. Ok, I got the point. And the distraction is working because I sit here looking at my breakfast of stewed fish and rice and I could not take the first bite. All I could think of is Tony, busy in my kitchen. He's chopping lemongrass, cutting the rabbit, lowering the goat's skull in the pot. Arranging lavender on the vase. Pouring wine. Naked. 

Yup. I said it.

The consensus here among my Western friends who follow the economic news religiously because of their substantial foreign income, is that the dollar will dip way down to 24 pesos in the next 12 months. So they are busy thinking of ways to protect themselves; some are buying condominiums to rent out while others are buying land or beach front properties. My monthly teachers' pension that my husband left me is below the poverty line, so I have more reasons to worry about when the dollar go further south.

But Chat has paved the way for me to leverage my income when that happens by buying land here in the Philippines. I don't really spend sleepless nights worrying about tomorrow. I do the best I can in the present and leave tomorrow to God who is in charge of the past, today and the future.  Chat is about tapped out trying to cushion my present and future, so I told her "we need to stop buying land, the land has enough coconuts to sustain my lifestyle already."  "Mom, what do you mean "we"? Between trying to balance a demanding job, a demanding love life and trying to raise you, do you really think I'd have time looking into coconuts for income?"  Hmmmm. Ok. I promise I will grow up, soon. I told her.

Three weeks from today, I will be on that bus with wings and take the 17 hour ordeal, squeezed in cattle class seating. I am just giddy thinking about it--I mean the landing in DFW airport. But departure is always bittersweet. Leaving this.

And my punks.

Seriously though, the boys are adjusting very well in the mountain. They told me they don't miss the street. I teach them how to live a civilized life; no peeing on walls and posts, garbage has to be contained and that work and keeping a job is basic for a dignified life. But most of all, the giver of life, the God who created them wants their praise and worship.

Since I have no experience in raising boys, I just invent tricks as I go. I try to work with their God given gifts and talents on how best to use them to enable them to go out into the world and become productive members of society. Their highest education is grade two, so I teach them basic arithmetic and reading. And because they hear me speak English to my American friends, they asked me to teach them English also.Words and phrases. The first word they came up with is "lulu" (heavy emphasis on each syllable). It was JR, the youngest one who raised his hand and said that the 3 of them wants to know the English word for it. I was caught offguard, not sure if I want to translate it anyway. But when I looked at all 3 faces, all serious and waiting for my answer, I said: "Masturbate" Junjun, the quiet one with artistic temperament of the 3, then asked, "How do you spell it?" I don't know why  he's suddenly interested in spelling when he can hardly spell his own name. "When you can pronounce it, I will teach you then how to spell it."

I knew I was bordering on insane when I took these bums in to begin with, but now I'm afraid this adventure would push me to the edge.

Well, after 5 days in the island with the surviboys, I came home last night half comatosed. But it was fun, I have to admit. The 2 were excited to have the 3rd one I brought because now, they have their own slave.

And I teach them how to be my slave.

I show them the power of knowledge: "Arithmetic and reading I can teach you. Let's just not ask me about Math". I told them.

They get creative and make their own slingshot when they're not hunting for spider for spider fights.

And they go relax and scrub their remaining street grime in sea water. But not before rolling in the dirt one more time.

And as for me, when I want to get out of my cave in the mountain, I go down and see my friend Paul in his waterfront home. One,he has a refrigerator loaded with cold drinks--and chocolates from his native Belgium.

I've mentioned before that I don't watch tv, well, I should have specified and said, "I don't watch tv shows." Before Chat insisted that I should have that giant flat screen, I watched movies on my little dvd player. But with the arrival of the big screen tv and Netflix streaming, I started to act like a hobo with a touch of class ; I watched tons and tons of documentary films, foreign drama and classic films. Tv and Netflix subscription all free from Chat. That was in Dallas.

Now, I have a small flat screen tv that my male friend (yes)  insisted I should have here in Cebu. "I will pay for shipping, don't worry" he assured me. I didn't tell him that  in order for it to have people appear on the screen he would have to give me a monthly sustenance for a cable subscription or all I'd see is the flickering rainbow. Or the 2 local channels that shows nothing but Filipino women who are either screaming, hitting each other or crying, if not wailing.  And since I could not stand all that Filipino drama and the freakiness of it all, I have not watched a single tv show for the last 10 months now.

I could not watch Youtube either because I did not subscribe to a "real" internet connection with real internet speed, instead, I am using the load and pay method which is enough for emails and blogging. And sometimes uploading pictures. I said sometimes.

Anyway, in 6 hours I will be heading to the island and check on my surviboys. I miss those bums, I mean those boys. Also, I am taking the 3rd one. Ya'll might wonder what I am smoking, why I'm doing this. I don't know either, I just do.

Ants in my pants

If God is willing, in exactly 28 days, I will be heading back home to Dallas. I will begin stripping my life again of the things in my apartment that I can live without. For the 3rd time, I will be making Cebu my base again. I know. I know. You're saying, 3 times?

When I was young(er) I knew exactly where home was, but as I got older, it has become very difficult to decide. Because I am a loner, America is perfect for me, but because I suffer from this constant agitation of restlessness, any place regardless how perfect would never be able to cure my malady. I am so aware and so thankful for God's mercy and generosity for having given me the flexibility I am enjoying now.

Chat begs me and says: "Mom, please settle down and change. I hate to think that I'd be like you in my 50's-a restless old woman." (I don't know why she has to add the last 2 qualifier.) So I tell her: "Ok, if you buy me more land with coconuts I'll settle down and call Cebu home." She oblige, but not without the subtle rebuke. "Mom, in less than a year 3 Birkin bags that I wanted to get, kept turning into coconuts." I know I need to grow up. Soon.