OR 10,519,200 minutes and counting – I think that sounds fascinating too!

Hi Ali!

It’s August 8, 2008 in the Philippines (the 7^th over here) today. I don’t know if there is such a big and official thing as an anniversary of friendship but I hope you remember that at one point, we officially recognized August 8, 1988 (8/8/88 ) as the start of our friendship. It was a lucky day for us alright!

Twenty years, brother! Twenty years of knowing that I have the kind of friend  who will stick by me even if I will be the Most Wanted criminal in the world. You are that kind of friend. And that’s one special lesson on friendship that I learned from you.

I still find myself visiting that happy place in my heart.  A place that tells tales of long hours on the phone, breakfast meals at 10pm, round trips on the train just for kicks, a long list of things to do together scribbled on a folded piece of paper tucked in our wallets (way before PDAs and cellphones became popular), movies, shared tears, road trips, food trips, caffeine and nicotine trips (a-huh!), our RC cars…and even deeper down memory lane: painting and sketching together in high school, the dance number we did (ulgk!), the endless exchange of letters when I went away for college, the unspoken agreement to celebrate the day after Christmas (my mom’s birthday) at my house each year. And you know what I miss the most? Those endless philosophical musings and intellectual conversations I shared with you.  That has been pretty scarce in my circle lately. *sucks*

It’s sad that the road we used to travel has reached a fork that split our ways physically, but hopefully not in any other way.  People evolve, lives do change, and we cannot stop the wheel from turning.  The happy thing is that you’ve found your own bestfriend in your spouse, and so have I in mine. My hubby  doesn’t get jealous when I talk about memories with you. He knows that you are my brother, and are now also his. At any rate, I am at peace with knowing that we are both happy where we are now, and in a good place which we only used to dream of.

I just want to thank you for being my bestfriend through those years, really the “bestest” friend, although there is no such word, only such meaning...and it applies to you. I have been so blessed to have that kind of friendship with you. The same still goes out from my heart to you, and now to your wife, and my godson. I look forward to seeing you all on my next visit.

*squiggles* whatever that means, boy!

Okay. So I ended up pulling my husband’s hair (not the sexy kind) like one wicked and enraged witch the other night (AARRRGGGHHH!). IN MY SLEEP.

I had this dream that someone I knew who’s always been so stubborn and never respected my words and feelings in the past has dunnit again! And if I used to be patient, understanding and tolerant with her, I certainly was the exact opposite in my dream.  Talk about suppressed feelings!  Aggressive and revengeful tendencies! In my dream, I was so frustrated I started yelling at her (YES! finally, after all those years of torment!) then I grabbed her thick wiry hair and started pulling it (like in an overly-dramatic soap opera with flames almost churning out of my nostrils).  GGGGGRRRRR!!!!! ARRRRRGGGH!!!! It was almost cathartic. Aaah, the pleasure of finally letting the floodgates loose!

Then suddenly, I woke up because my husband shook me.  He had this big astounded and bewildered look in his eyes...no, make that thunderstruck...stupefied...flabbergasted...PETRIFIED... as he nervously chirped, “What the hell did you do that for?” I was pulling hard on his hair with such adrenaline-powered grip and his eyes were as round as golf balls.  Oh the poor innocent sleeping thing...

It was hella funny.  I ended up laughing my way back to sleep.  Maybe I should start seeing a therapist for a sleeping disorder (aggressive tendencies in dreams) hahaha or for some minor problems while fully awake (suppressing anger and stuff).  Nah, I prefer to transcend and stay calm.  Too much drama makes one ugly and sick.  Besides, I must admit I enjoyed that hair-pulling drama and I'm not about to let that go *LOL*.

I still can't stop laughing! Hell, yeah!

 "Compassion and tolerance are not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength." - Dalai Lama

I had a blast last weekend.  We performed at the Aloha Festival last Saturday.  I just remembered how last year, I promised myself I wouldn't be just watching at the festival anymore, I would be performing. Well...

Here's something to scratch off my list again! But I'll keep doing it. See you next year! Mahalo...

        It's been a week since my last post and I have been "itching" to write but my schedule has been so way out of whack lately...The whole week had been busy but it was so much fun too that I can't complain.

        My stepdaughter's staying with us for about three weeks or so this summer and that means, we have the rest of the nieces and nephews with us too! It's as if hubby and I are running a huge and chaotic teen/pre-teen daycare adventure with 6-8 kids in tow, depending on who gets dropped off or picked up. We want them to bond and make great memories together so they don't grow apart.  Well, with them, we don't really have to make much effort.  I believe that family members should be friends you grow up with and that really makes all the mayhem so worth while.   Hopefully, by being a part of each other's happy memories, they can be there for each other when they get older.

        And they are getting older!  Yesterday, I was shopping with my stepdaughter in downtown SF (my happy place) when she said "Remember when we used to look for Size 1 pants for me? I can't believe I'm now a 5." Wow.  I've only been here a few years and these kids have shot up like crazy.  One of the cousins is already going to college.  And boy, how they can all eat now too! Each day that they are with us, it's like I'm cooking for a big banquet. Little portions just don't work anymore. But though it's a total rip-off, we still find it cute at the end of the day. 

        The house is utter bedlam too.  We're talking of a gazillion colorful Nikes and Vans by the front door;  overstuffed backpacks strewn around, blankets and sleeping bags piled up in the family room like it's one small refugee camp, our bedroom (with the flat screen, laptops and other gadgets they all flock to) turning into their clubhouse, an array of ringtones from different colored cellphones, kids talking to you while texting (is that a word, by the way!?!) with skill and speed that only teenagers can master, 101 personal issues, concerns and questions about life that mean the world to eight different voices but seem so little to us.  Paper plates, playing cards, hair straighteners and late nights.

        Every night after my chores, hubby and I would sit down (when we're too tired to mess around with them),  drink wine and watch them.  It makes us remember our own youth.  There is a certain fondness in our hearts that we cannot explain.  Time flies so fast.  We're almost two decades away from that kind of carefree fun, that juvenile experience when we were still uncertain and discovering so many things through hits and misses. Our treasured memories are still fresh and we still light up remembering them. That's why we tend to give back to the cycle what we have once gotten and probably have not even given up just yet. After all, we won't lose anything in the process, there's only a lot to gain. Pretty soon, these kids will be in our shoes, reminiscing their own youth and wishing it just ain't over yet.        

        Maybe that's why hubby and I enjoy giving them wonderful summers.  He and I are not done with ours.

I read this from a bumper sticker as I was pulling off the parking lot after church last Sunday:

We are all spiritual beings having a physical experience.

Cool, huh?

        Eureka! But I’m not running out to the streets of Syracuse naked.  I found it at last!

        I thought I had lost my California ID card (not the driver’s license) when I had my right ear cartilage pierced (the same spot that closed up) late last year.  I went through the whole painful process of reporting it to the concerned agencies fearing that someone else might use it, and fearing the worst: harm my credit; or get my identity entangled in some gruesome murder case. Eventually, I got used to the idea that somewhere out there, someone (hopefully a hot-looking minor) might use my ID only to buy some liquor (quite responsibly if it was possible!) and that’s it.   

        Can you keep a secret? I mourned for that ID because I ADORED my photo there.  I was maybe 25 flipping pounds lighter then, my long hair was brushed more than once that day, and I was wearing a good amount of war paint on my face…a definite “hot girlfriend” version of me.  The Driver’s ID that was left with me spoke of hideousness and nothing else.  It was taken when I didn’t know the photo was going to be taken.  I had a house-shirt on, I didn’t brush my hair twice that day (LOL), and I don’t think I took a shower that day *joke*. And oh yes, I was 25 flipping pounds heavier, and I squeezed the shot in between washing dishes and doing laundry…a definite “horrendous-looking wife” version of me! I remember praying for some nice soul to mail that beautiful version of me back to my address but nothing ever came. Then I remember blaming people for keeping it in light of their malevolent motives.  And of course, I also accused the finder for keeping it just because I looked really “hot” there *dream on*. 

        Hubby and I went clubbing last weekend (Plug: Bruno’s in SF) and I took one of my tiny black “clubbing” purses.  I was putting my Driver’s license in the inner pocket when I felt another ID card in there.  It’s my long lost ID!!! I still don’t have any recollection of how it ended up there. Maybe I took it to Blue Light (another favorite) one time.  But I do remember showing that ID to the Piercing Pagoda several months after that.  I’m positive! And I remember coming home without it. How on earth it happened remains a mystery to me.  

        But I’m so happy and relieved that I have my “hot girlfriend” version in my wallet once more.  Now, if I can only go back to looking the part.

This is from Jenny R.  I don't really do tags but they have finally grown into me. When you're in Rome, do what the Romans do! So here's one...uhrm, my very first one here at Bravenet:

1. What was I doing 10 years ago? Doing my graduate studies in Developmental Psychology, dating a medical student, and I was horribly skinny being a vegetarian (not anymore!).

2. What are 5 Things in my to-do list today?
  ~ Mail out a check donation ~ Go to Safeway to buy groceries for the week ~ Fold the laundry  ~Clean the bathroom  ~Call my parents ~ Call the realtor (uncle!)...did I just mention 6?

3. Snacks I enjoy: Triscuits (Rosemary & Olive Oil and Roasted Tomato & Olive Oil), Quaker Chewy Dark Chocolate and Cherry Granola Bars,  Roasted Almonds, Red Ribbon Ensaimadas, Crunchy Chicken Wraps and anything with rice (yes, for a snack)

4. Places I’ve lived: Batangas, Manila/Makati and this quaint and beautiful island in NorCal

5. Things I’d do if I were a billionaire:
  *set up a foundation in the Philippines with the main thrust of increasing literacy: scholarships for poor children, book drives, better libraries and access to books (real books!) --copyright that for me!
  *buy properties all over the world -- I would love to stay in Italy (aah my Limoncello!), France and Spain for a while. See castles in Ireland, hide for a long time in Greece                                                   *settle in a Victorian House (with a ginormous private library) and run a Bed and Breakfast just for kicks, I don't care about having maids or not, but I could use a chauffeur! (I miss you, Mang Romy of PI *sob*)
  *buy a private jet to shuttle me to my different homes
  *make all places I like earthquake and calamity proof *shiver* and everyone I love disease-proof but I guess money won't change God's will...prayers will.

Ok, am I supposed to tag others? LOL. Everyone then!!!

Our office is supposed to be a scent-free environment though I’d sneak in a spritz or two of the faintest smelling body spray whenever I wake up too late to wash my hair in the morning (me filthy thing!) I hope I don’t get written up for it one day.  And I think someone’s doing the same thing!  Once in a while, I would catch strong whiffs of pomade in my cubicle. Old man’s pomade—the scent that you’ll get if you mix coconut oil with old dried up garden soil. I’ve been secretly accusing someone for it. He’s very nice, funny and very smart by the way, but just the quintessence of the pomade-slathering league. But lo and behold, this place is reeking of that odor today and he’s not even here! Hence, I’m moving on to Victim…er…Suspect #2: the co-worker in the cubicle next to mine. There is nothing conclusive yet but if I’m right this time, then I therefore conclude that not all women who come to work clutching an original Gucci purse have good taste in the fragrance department. (If my co-workers can read my posts, I will soooo get in trouble).

I digress. 

Suspect #2 got in trouble with The Manager lately. If my eavesdropping data is accurate (which most often isn’t especially when relying on audible data---in other words, I’m biologically deaf aside from having Attention Deficit), she has been lagging on some important tasks involving BIG accounts.  Aside from that, I heard from Suspect #3 (she doesn’t stink, I just don’t know how to refer to her---but since she works on the cubicle across mine, she’s not fully acquitted just yet) that Suspect #2 got into an argument with The Manager while she was being reprimanded for not doing her job.  It allegedly graduated into a yelling match with Suspect #2 coming out of it claiming that she felt “harassed”. Suspect #3 and Suspect #4 (I don’t think this one should even be a suspect at all) asked if I heard it myself because they only learned about it from the grapevine; #3 was off sick that day, and #4 was on vacation. I could swear I didn’t hear any yelling at all so they figured it must have happened on my lunch break. But I never leave on lunch breaks! I eat my lunch in my cube while I write blogs like this one! I must have been in a different “realm” that time…

But it could be true. I hate taking sides but I believe that the manager had a point. I hear her yakking on the phone with friends for long periods of paid time. So seriously? It only proves that how we behave dictates how others will treat us. Our attitudes and behaviors in the different aspects of our lives court how we will be treated back. Give out sh*t, and you’ll get some sh*t back. Love and you will be loved back. Maybe not in all instances, but it improves your chances. But this shouldn’t even be the main goal.  Be nice, just to make the world a better place. Love, just because.

And don’t wear stinky pomade.

Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first. 

Frozen Banana.  Tucker's Ice Cream, Alameda CA

I was hoping I could keep my JOTW-OMG post up as the first one you’ll find here forever but a blogger’s gotta do what a blogger’s gotta do, right?  It feels like I have been bitten by the blog bug all over again. I started in 2005 –and couldn’t stop since—but now I’m actually omnipresent in the web *wishful thinking*.  Okay, I’m still just a tiny dot in this vast blogiverse (I just made that up) but last night, I was inspired to secure me a seat in the WordPress table. I think WordPress rocks! I test-drove it last night and it seems professional and organized thus far; and I thought the "dashboard" was kind of novel -- or maybe I just haven't been around! I think it’s a good platform for my daily hum, and I mean “daily”. But that doesn’t mean I’m turning my back from my birthplace nor our dear Bravenet Community (with the award and all? no freakin’ way!) I think I’ll never win a journal award anywhere else ever again even in my next life, so I owe it to Bravenet (you’re still the best!). It’s like comparing apples and oranges anyway -- well, I’m eating both. Oh and another thing, I was blog-hopping yesterday (around Bravenet ofcourse!) and amidst seeing enviable digital scraps made by wonderful people and which I wish I can have time to tinker with, it hit me how enormous the earning potential is with this growing blogging field. In the near future, the occupation check box in standard application forms will include:  þ Blogger.   I might as well get compensated for something I love to do, right? Plus with a soon-to-be “California” real estate mortgage potentially eating up my income as a nutraceutical pee-on (don’t tell anyone I said that *LOL* I so love my job!), I could use some extra dough to afford my hula dancing costumes *pathetic* and the indispensable caffeine fixes *more pathetic*. But I ain’t mixing business with pleasure. So yeah, SPECIAL thoughts stay put, mundane ones wander around in WordPress. (check out my new sites: Steel Magnolia in a can of Diet Coke, and Miscellanea from the Future Renaissance Woman). If I only know where or how to start raking in the moolah. I’m so wet behind the ears. Can anybody help me?

Thank you all so much! I've been drooling over JOTWs for the past months now. I thought I needed to submit my journal to win...and I never did because I thought it wasn't worth it yet.  Well, maybe it is! Now, I'm bouncing off the walls!  Thank you, Miss Holly! I know you have something to do with this!!! Thank you, Bravenet Community! Thanks for all the greetings! THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART (and liver)...

What else can I say??? I'm speechless.

Yeah. Speechless...

America was lighting her fireworks when I arrived the first time and I always choose to look at it as a glorious personal welcome. Since then, Fourth of July always had a different meaning for me; every firework sent up in the air is a celebration of my new life. I’m not a different person, just an evolving one. And I’m only in a different place but my heart is always where it’s supposed to be. It rests in the people whose hearts I also carry in me.

 I saw it the instant I came out the front door of my workplace. There is a small parking lot in front of our building adjacent to a 25 miles/hr road. It was moving about lazily in the middle of the road in slow turkey waddle. What was it doing there, I mused. A wild one, perhaps. Since I work close to the ocean, I get my regular dose of ducks tapping on our glass doors, seagulls crying in the distance…hawks (hawks?) hovering up above. It was a turkey alright, even if my close encounters with a whole turkey are limited so far to #1) the zoo when I was 5 years old #2) Thanksgiving dinners – the turkey sandwiches and ground turkey I use a lot in lieu of beef don’t count. Maybe it’s just my imagination, this one almost had a personality. "He/She/It" almost had a name. ALMOST HAD.

        I went straight to my car, fumbled for my phone in my purse (shucks, I thought I left it again) and then pulled right off the lot and unto the road. To my shock, when I was almost at that part where the turkey was, I saw instead some bloody turkey pieces...mashed and unidentifiable turkey parts. I’ll spare you the other gory details. It bothered me like hell, like a heavy dark cloud was cast upon me and followed me. At home, hubby gave a loud “What? Who did what!?! What the f! What an irresponsible son of a b! What was he thinking?” – it could make tree-huggers and animal rights activitists grimly jealous.

         Poor turkey. One moment he was lounging about oblivious to his impending demise, 5 minutes elapse and he's a random roadkill. It seemed more like a gruesome murder to me, if there is a difference at all. Did he have parents? Did he have a spouse? Did he have kids? Uhm...Grandkids? Hahahaha. Is there turkey heaven? or turkey hell?  LOL. Is someone gonna miss him? What was he doing there? What was he thinking? Did he have dreams? Did he have goals? Did he have a list of things to achieve before he dies? A turkey's brain is about the size of a walnut and it is said that is has fewer brain cells than a cockroach. So the tragedy he met probably didn’t mean much. They are somehow predestined to be on someone's dinner plate  anyway (sorry, vegans).  But the scarier part of it was…the incident jolting me to the eventuality and randomness of mortality. It could have been our pet dog. It could have been my neighbor. It could have been someone close. It could have been me. 

         I didn't mean to ride the hype of the now cliche "Bucket List" when I started to write this. Oh the ever-proverbial list of things one wants to do before he kicks the bucket!    Maybe it matters. Maybe it doesn't. It's your choice. It depends on how you see the world and life itself. I'm just creeped out by the turkey's misfortune.I do have a bucket list but I prefer to call it dreamlist...I wrote one before the movie came out (click to see my old list). Yes, it keeps growing. And yes, Tiger Woods is still part of it and I'm moving closer and closer to that one. Woohoo!

        But I believe that everyone's list should include: 1) Forgive ALL those who wronged you, especially those who didn't really mean to; 2) Say sorry to those you've hurt; 3) Thank the people who did a lot for you (even the smallest things) throughout your life; and THIS ONE SHOULD TOP THE LIST: 4) Tell the people who mean very much to you that you love them. Now. Really.

        So we finally meet after 5 years. She finally meets the woman who her ex-boyfriend fell head over heels in love with. I finally meet the woman who loved and cared for the man I married for more than a decade before I came (pun unintended) into his life. She finally meets the woman she referred to as the “fat b*tch” and I finally meet the woman I referred to as the “ugly b*tch” (Out of disdain, I always thought, well you can lose “fat” but what do you do with “ugly”? Plus, she wasn’t so skinny to begin with).

       It wasn’t so bad. Just a bit of formalities here and there, a shaking of the hands (I offered mine first –brownie points!), uttering the automatic “nice to meet you” that goes with the handshake (did we really mean it?), partying with the rest of the crowd and maybe scrutinizing each other in stolen glances. Simple. So bitterly peaceful. It has been five years anyway. I guess we both anticipated this meeting. It is a small world after all.

        At one point, we were all singing and “Dancing Queen” came up. I announced to everyone, in between sips of beer, that it is my song. No one, except for her, volunteered to sing it. And I danced to it. I know, she wasn’t doing it for me…she was just having fun singing. I wasn’t doing it for her either. Dancing Queen is my anthem, I will heed its call anytime. I am a Dancing Queen --which I know she isn’t! I must say though, even if she doesn’t sing as good as Cristina Aguilera I definitely pale in comparison. I should give it to her. (uhrm…)

         Two concerned guys asked me if it was okay that she was at the party. And because I wanted to prove unfazed by the situation, I confidently said “No worries, you're asking me now when I finally proved to myself with my very own eyes that I’m really a lot more beautiful than her?”  My husband always said too that I’m 100 times nicer.  Better inside and out.  But I kept that part to myself.  Good thing.  I should have kept my mouth shut to begin with. I really wanted to kick myself for not screening my words. I hate it. I just put myself down. I was embarassed with what I said even if it was supposed to be a self-appreciating joke directed to two carefree guys. I stooped too low. It was definitely a self-defense done in poor taste. Look who's ugly now???

         How can I be so proud? How can I make fun of being prettier than someone else, even just as a joke, or to casually prove a petty point…when we all know too well that beauty is only skin deep.  What matters is what lies beneath. What is important is who the person is inside. As the days go by since that meeting, there is a ball of guilt that keeps on swelling in my heart about having said it. She didn’t do anything bad to me anyway. And even if my husband and a lot of other people who both know us tell me I’m a lot nicer, observing her…I saw that she couldn’t possibly be too far behind. I know for sure she is a great friend to her friends. She's probably great with the kids in the facility she works for. Maybe. It takes one to know one.

         I don't want to hurt people. I should take care of this inner beauty. It is what is important. It is what is worth preserving. It is what is worth being proud of.

         When the party was over, she said goodbye and if smiles were worth ten seconds to a dollar, she flashed me a 10 cents worth.  Good enough.  Then I said “Goodbye, drive safe”.  Did I mean it? YES.

I’m about as sought-after in the softball field as a tall glass of ice cold Coke on a hot summer day (doused with two tablespoons of mashed-almost-liquefied lamb pancreas, 1 1/2 shots of Parigoric and topped with a generous sprinkle of Borax and 3 pieces of Mentos--ground). I had the privilege to play with my hubby’s co-ed softball team last summer on Tuesdays when their team is short. Me, whose skill is confined to a batting average of 100% -- in hitting flying invisible balls.  The only thing I can recall now is how I dragged the team to a few pathetic losses (“You’re already out, Clarisse, you can let go of the bat now…easy..easy…”), because toward the end of the season hubby started coming up with 1001 Time-to-Spare-My-Spouse-(and-me)-from-Embarassment Creatively-simulated Realistic Excuses. One time, his friend J asked, “Do you want to play with us next Tuesday, Clarisse?”  and as soon as he overheard this, hubby ran toward us like a victim of an uncontrollable downhill-rolling shopping cart, thereby butting in before I could exercise my freedom of speech, “Her Carpal Tunnel has been acting up and I don’t want her hurting herself any further.”  There goes my softball career.

Fast forward to a year later. Last Tuesday, I was sitting on a bleacher after hubby’s softball game when I overheard the boys talking about the upcoming co-ed league. J (as if he never learned) blurted out, “You're playing with us on co-ed tuesdays, Clarisse!” giving me that “You better do” stare. Or maybe he was just trying to vie for an Oscar – the Most Polite Script Ever Delivered to a Teammate-slash-Friend’s Wife in a sports film Award. Hubby quickly said to me in a loud and thunderous voice audible to anyone within 20,000 miles, “But you’re dancing at the Aloha Festival in SF, you’ve got other shows lined up for the summer, and your classes…your practices fall on the same day!” He even muttered vaguely about a hula competition that hawaiians probably haven't even thought of (LIAR!).  I don’t know if he’s just really being proud of me, OR he is trying to pull off Excuse # 542 of the 1001 Time-to-Spare-My-Spouse-(and-me)-from-Embarassment Creatively-simulated Realistic Excuses. Because I’m pretty sure that if that one didn’t work, he will plot to make my lactose intolerance act up by putting powdered milk in my multi-vitamin pills on Tuesday mornings. Pretty soon, he will be traveling into the future, inventing excuses for sports-related proposals I haven’t even received yet.

I rest my case. I’ll be dancing my way all summer then. I’m about as sought-after in a hula show as gobs of hot white rice anyway.  Plain, but edible at least.

Obviously, I am floating merrily at a lucid interval these days. Not exactly bouncing off the walls, but still oooh-ing and yeah-ing at being able to outdo myself in some demands of everyday living, that being a small issue in my daily hum as a workin’ wifey---sans little rascals to contend with at that!

So what’s up with us these days? We’re trying to put an offer for a condo/townhome! TRYING…It’s really a leap of faith for us. We’ve been waiting for Daisy for soooo long (Daisy- that foreclosed house on the next corner from where we live, which I drive by EVERY afternoon after work to make sure no one has bought her yet --apparently, the bank has yet to quote a price-- I named her Daisy the day I found myself talking to it *really* –which I still do everyday…*insane*). Well, we found this small fully-fixed-ditch-the-sweat awesome townhome in Bayfarm…let’s call her Frankie (http://www.pacunion.com/40343677). She’s got more pizzazz than old approachable and conservative Daisy. And like any well-dressed woman on Manolo Blahniks (I can’t believe I’m riding the SATC hype), she will potentially rip us off. But it might be worth it over the long haul. May the best girl win! This house-hunting is truly exhilarating and it does shove us into a state of desperation at times. I do see a light at the end of a tunnel. Do you see that flicker? Over there! Oberder!!!

I’m still having a love affair with the crockpot. And my hubby was cleanin’ scrapin’ and washin’ until his grill went a-shinin’ last weekend. He made grilled steak for supper last Sunday. We’re still gastronomic slaves and we’re liking it!

We’re quite done with long-overdue spring cleaning in “our little studio” (LOL). Quite. Mess throws my mind off-kilter most of the time that I always have to battle a strong urge to retreat to one corner of the room rocking back and forth as overwhelming disorganization abounds. Really. But we’re finally getting ahead, with a better schedule and a slower-paced social life. We’re still working on it. You see, I’m a big fan of flickers at the end of the tunnel (think positive!)…and now a big fan of humongous (and duly-labeled neurotically color-coded) plastic storage bins.

Work. It’s been slow and the economy is going nowhere but plummet south. There’s a soft buzz about shifting into more economical “4/10s” (4 ten-hr days). 3-day weekends forever and ever! Just the mere thought of it already sends me astral-traveling to the mall, the gymn, to Joey (our little bedroom studio--I like giving names now hahaha) to do my sketches and wire craft, and all the way to Hogwarts—that last unread Harry Potter book that’s probably bored-to-death-it-wants-to-set-itself-on-fire on my shelf by now, among others. Or sleeping in on Friday mornings! What joy! Maybe I can find a part-time job on Fridays too! I’m thinking too far. 4/10s will work for me if it happens. As long as everyone’s happy. Well, they gave me this huge box (it was on top of my desk I thought hubby shipped me a present or something--- nice try) of my own personalized business cards last week. I’m casting a good spell on that.

I haven’t bought a single thing for our implement dance in hula class. Not even an ii! I guess I’ll be dancing with imaginary ones again tonight and hope I don’t get penalized for it. I’m pretty good at this pretend stuff anyway *jk*. Imaginary friends like Daisy and Frankie. And dear ol’ Joey.

        So I’m really back in the swing of things. I don’t know why I should even make a big deal out of this; I was not gone for eons! But I’m psychotic. LOL. Anyway, last night was hula night. I finally made it. I missed it for two weeks since I got here because the first week: I was sick (real sick) and the second week: I was lazy (a different kind of sick). My middle has gotten so thick (read: fat) that I wasn’t sure if I was fit enough to kaholo. Excuses…

         So I finally dragged myself to the studio last night. I was being a little depressive anyway; I did need a dose of endorphins. It didn’t take long for me to catch up. They did a show while I was gone anyway, so I didn’t miss much…just rehearsals and not a lot of new dances. But they were already starting on the “implement” dance and the other wahines already have their implements and I don’t. I had to dance holding imaginary implements. It’s funny. I felt like a little kid whose parents forgot to send her favorite toy for Show and Tell.  Well, in this area, I am my own parent now. I’ll be ordering those a little at a time. Boy, they are expensive!!!http://www.alohahulasupply.com 

         Speaking of parents, I’ve been thinking about them too much lately. I guess that’s why I have been feeling very low. I got married and moved here. The second one followed suit.  And now that my youngest sister’s wedding is over, she’s moving with her hubby to his job assignment abroad as well.  Reality sets in. My mom had been crying to me (one time saying “wawa mommy, wawa daddy”. My dad, well, he tries to heal his sadness by doing creative things…but I bet he’s lonely just as much.  There’s no denying that it seems like we have deserted them one at a time although we never really intended to. I didn’t really intend to. Why would I? But life simply unfolded on its own, a big part of it not being a product of choice. But still, we could have changed some major choices. I could have chosen to stay back home. (But that would have meant turning my back on Aldred---how’s that???).  I wish I knew that my other sisters won’t be able to stay eventually.  But that’s too selfish of me for thinking they would stay. They have their own love, happiness, dreams and life to pursue. Just like me. 

        I’ve been mulling over this since I got back from Philippines. My parents are still strong, but not without challenges to health here and there. Eventually, they will grow older. They will need us more and more --- running the household, maintaining the house(s), going with them on medical check-ups, running errands or just being there to talk to at the end of the day, walking with them and making sure they are alright. But who will be there? In my heart, I really can’t close my eyes to their every emotional and physical need. I can’t shut the door to every knock. But I also can’t travel at every whim. Last night, Aldred brought home my favorite burrito for dinner because it was my hula night. It reminded me how simple but very happy we are. Very happy. But somehow, my happiness doesn’t sit well in the same scheme where my parents aren’t happy. I’m so torn I think I’ll go crazy sometimes. Other people seem to find it easy, perhaps they don’t have as much great family memories to keep. But I can’t judge. Perhaps, they have other reasons.  Financially too, our family is quite comfortable and with a relatively good chance to survive despite a dwindling economy (hopefully) so we were not raised nor groomed to seek greener pastures elsewhere that required air or sea transport as soon as we were launched into the professional arena.  Dynamics-wise, our family isn’t perfect and not without flaw like the occasional psychological games some TV soaps are made of. BUT compared to other units, ours is definitely close to ideal in the happiness spectrum. We’re so way up there, I know it. How could one walk away?

        So maybe, it’s really just about squashing down other feelings in favor of some as one grows older. Still, it doesn’t sit right. I’ve been praying so hard about this. The Bible teaches that marriage is an intimate union. "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife and the two will become one flesh" (Mark 10:7-8 ) . When you marry, you leave your parents and bond with your spouse. A totally new, intimate union is formed; this union between one man and one woman is meant to last a lifetime. Yesterday, a line in 90210 (yes, the Beverly Hills series!) struck me so timely. Donna’s father said “You’re old enough to stop worrying about your mother and start thinking about your own life”. Is that God responding to my incessant cries? It makes healthy sense. But I guess, in my culture, it still doesn’t fully absolve me. My mom stayed and took care of my grandmother. She was hoping one of us can follow suit. But with the direction my choices have gone, it doesn’t seem to be in the picture just yet. But who knows. I wish I can take care of them. I envy those who are blessed with this opportunity. It could be a struggle I know but it's a blessing nonetheless. No, my parents are NOT demanding from us. In fact, my parents have selflessly let us go…despite their sorrow and feelings of insecurity in their hearts about their own future. With our visits, I hope they see it more as a glass half-full, not half-empty. But then again, that’s a lame way to forcefully adjust their perspective at this point.

         I have great dreams about my own family now. I can’t wait to buy our own place, and we’re getting closer and closer to that dream. I can’t wait to have babies. I can’t wait to travel more. I can’t wait to achieve other promising things with my hubby in the future. I can’t wait, yet in the same breath, I want to freeze time. I wish I can freeze time so my parents will stay young, able and strong forever. If I can keep this scenario at status quo: me being here, them being there, phone calls and some visits to suffice, that would be perfect. But not possible. Am I selfish? What am I so worried about? Am I worried about my parents or am I worried about me? About making eventual sacrifices or going through painful emotional processes here and there. Or maybe I’m worried about them going through those? Or am I just being consumed by guilt and/or succumbing to a guilt trip? Am I trying to carry too much imaginary load on my shoulders again? Maybe I should try to trust my parents more about having the ability and the wisdom to transcend through this stage? Am I forgetting to let God direct my movie? Maybe all of the above? This love is so positive yet convoluted. I wish I knew the answers or at least how to numb their feelings and/or my feelings about eventual answers.  All I know is, I wish I can be there for them. And I wish I can be here with my husband. I like my life here too. My independence, my freedom, the way of life. I love it. I wish I can be at two places at one time. Help me, I am not a bad child. And I’m trying to be the best wife (and mom) there is. But I’ll be there when and where I’m needed. Promise.

         Lord, I'm lifting up this blog to you.  Please direct my movie. But if I can request one thing for the mean time, please let it be a fantasy movie...where I wear a hula skirt that transports me to two places at one time and a tiare on my right ear that gives me the superpowers to freeze time...for a loooooong time.

Do you have reasons why you choose certain things over others? I am sometimes biased against people who MUST always have a rationale behind choosing something. I know someone who would always choose to back up to a parking space so the front of his vehicle would point outward, that way “I can drive away real quick in times of emergency”. COOL but UNCOOL. Or “eat a lot of tomatoes, it has Lycopene in it”. I find that too square for me. 

I’m usually not picky. To me, I would use tomatoes on my dishes if need be. But I won’t let it rule my life. I usually would let things happen when they happen. I would use things depending on accessibility. Simple. Recently though, I’ve been going gaga over some new stuff! It might be passé for other people…but I just can’t hold it to myself when I get excited! It must be rooting from a fantasy to have my own magazine (okay, what am I up to this time???), I’ve been meaning to write about “PRODUCT PICKS OF THE MONTH” or something in that league. I thought about that (light bulb above my head!) when I first tried the Cholula Hot Sauce. But then again, that’s considered passé since I have been pouring it over my eggs, hashbrowns, pasta, ground meat and anything you can imagine for about a year now. It started when this really nice Mexican server who always had a smile pasted on her face recommended it to me at Tilly’s Diner after I asked for Green Tabasco. I’ve been hooked ever since. 

So, I am evolving (we are always evolving, I’m just a little bit on this obvious point right now).  Here are some really good findings I wish to share:

1. The Joys of Crock-Pot cooking. Okay, where have I been? It’s only now that I really truly discovered the joy of slow-cooker cooking..uhrm…slow-cooking.  I would toss all the ingredients into the pot/set it on low for about 8-9.5 hours before taking off for work, and I’d come home to the aroma of a hot and delicious home cooked meal. That gives me at least one or two more free hours after work to do other things instead of devoting it for preparing supper. Two hours are precious if you are a working wifey! What joy! I checked the energy consumption too. (OFCOURSE).  I gathered, based on Typical Appliance Energy Use and Costs, a crockpot uses about 100 Watts while a large electric range uses 2400 Watts. Let’s take a closer look at the formula for average costing:  Watts/1000 x hours = Kilowatt-hours (kWh) x rate = cost.  Ergo, even if a crockpot operates for a longer period of time, it still comes to a smaller figure than a range would in terms of Kilowatt-hours before computing the cost. Lovely!

2. Cross-action Pro-Health Oral-B. Yeah, it sounds more like a new model of Nike running shoes than a toothbrush. I never paid close attention to what kind of toothbrush I use.  But this one, which hubby and I picked at Target hurriedly because we misplaced our toothbrushes after our vacation to the Philippines, just about slapped me on the face, shaking me to reality with the gift of painful guilt over the realization that I have been maltreating my teeth for the past 30some years. For the first time in my whole life, I feel like wanting to keep brushing my teeth over and over simply because it leaves me feeling good each time (uh-oh…compulsion).  Just kidding!  But it sure suggests what it feels like to be a kid discovering the joy of toothbrushing for the first time, with a mickey mouse toothbrush in hand slathered with red-and-white-striped strawberry-flavored toothpaste. I’m not a dentist, but do check it out: http://oralb.com/us/products/manual/crossaction/.  Why just brush your teeth when you can clean your whole mouth? It provides 7 oral care benefits to help you achieve a cleaner, healthier mouth. They have to pay me for this.

3. A HUGE personal water jug at work. I just got this yesterday, after a Kidney-ailment-scare at Kaiser last saturday. Apparently, I have not been “watering” myself enough lately.  Looking back, I think I guzzle only…let’s see: 1 mug of morning coffee, I mug of water for lunch, half a mug of water on my afternoon break, 1 glass of water at dinner, half a glass of water on my bedside to tide me over during the night on dry throat moments. Bad girl. If I was a plant that depended largely on 8 glasses of water a day, I would have transformed into natural fertilizer a long time ago. So I guess this is an experimental solution to my dehydration malady and hefty water quota. I'm so relieved I don't need to stay away from salt just yet. It is a 64oz jug with water level indicators.  It even has a straw and a big handle for convenience. Just remind me not to chew on the straw because it’s just washable, not disposable. It’s cute too! Anyway, check out your IWI (Ideal Water Intake) here: http://wellnessndiet.com/calculators_iwi.php.

Perhaps, I should start making a living by endorsing products. HAHAHA. Or rather, I should start putting more “purpose” into my actions.