The Case of the Flying Lasagna!

Has anyone been to Olive Garden the resto? Well, that was our destination yesterday with my good friend Donna. Upon her suggestion, I relented because there are only two things that she really eats which is chicken and pasta.

We went for a merienda cena time thinking that the place could seat us right away, but we were surprised when we had to wait. Instead of listing our names, the receptionist gave us that circular disc that blinks incessantly when our table was ready.

It was a good 10 minute wait when our waiter showed us a cozy side table nook , and we slid right into the cubicle resting our winter coats and bag right by our sides. I noticed that all the waiters would carry a bottle of wine when taking our initial orders, which of course were the drinks. I ordered a glass of their house wines, while Donna ordered coffee. Normally I would wonder why people would drink coffee right before a meal instead of after, until I read somewhere that coffee can be an appetizer as it cleanses the digestive tract making it ready for a meal. So they say!

After a few minutes, our waitress came back for our orders. I got the 'Stewed Beef and portabella with three cheese tortelini' while Donna got the lasagna, and we opted for a salad instead of the soup, which went along with our pasta orders. Looking around the place, it was pretty much filled with diners even at such an early afternoon. It wasn't long into our chitchat with Donna, when our waitress came back with our salad bowl.

We were each given a salad plate which was properly cooled (refrigerator cold is the word), and then pretty waitress started grating parmesan cheese on the greens. After three grinds of grated cheese, we told her to stop, and she was off again to serve other customers.

The salad was fairly crisp, and had just the right amount of dressing on them. I loved the italian peppers in the salad and wondered if they placed the number of pieces with the corresponding diners at the table. Donna was in her cup and a half of coffee (I think) when our entrees arrived.

On one hand, the waitress had our orders on a tray, while on the other was the foldable table which she opened and later laid the tray on. I was fidgeting for my phone camera while the waitress asked who ordered what. No sooner had she placed the lasagna on Donna's place, when the plate flew off the waitress hand, sending the steaming lasagna down by Donna's side. We all shrieked in disbelief as the lasagna was now sprawled all over Donna's area. I looked to see if she had food all over her, but I could only see some red sauce by the side of her sleeves. Hmmm! She probably took karate lessons without my knowing since she was able to block any food coming her way.

The waitress was more shocked than we were. She kept on apologizing that the plate was hot (and it really was) and tried to scrape any food off Donna. My jaw dropped and my eyeballs almost popped off, but it was only Donna who had the presence of mind. She got her coat and looked at it, found no food, and handed me her coat while wiping off any remnants of lasagna. She then proceeded to the bathroom.

Meanwhile the manager was called to size up the situation and a cleaning guy came over to sanitize Donna's area. The manager inquired for Donna and asked if we wanted to seat at another table. For me, it was no big deal to move, just as long as they cleaned up the mess. A few minutes later, a smiling Donna was back. The manager came over, handed her business card, and told her she would take care of any dry cleaning bill as a result of the incident. Meanwhile, the kitchen made a new batch of our entrees.

As we waited for our new set of orders, we were amused by our reactions. We wondered how many incidents like this happened and how they would react. Some would probably be upset and walk out, or others would curse the waiter for being clumsy.

But Donna and I were just laughing our wits off. We were in so much high spirits that nothing could hamper the moment. We likened ourselves to little schoolgirls giggling as they would talk about boys, crushes, or clothes. But as grown up women, we were talking about MENOPAUSE. Now how funny could that be!!!!!! Hysterical is the word!

And what could be more fun when we were informed that our meal was free and that management took care of it. As we left the restaurant, stomach filled with free food and outrageous laughter, we looked up to the sky and noticed that it was a full moon. No wonder we had such a lunatic time!


Donna's new order of lasagna...she said it was yummmy!!!


My order of the stewed beef with tortelini...yummy as well!!!!


the sign that says it was indeed a LUNATIC evening....

Downtime

I had a pretty good downtime yesterday. Initially, I had slept in till after lunch, not wanting to move from under my thick comforter. It was going to be a chilly day, said the weatherman, so I really wanted to just veg out. But being unproductive often makes me guilty, so reluctantly, I pulled my heavy butt up, and started to dress.

Aside from the bookstores, my next favorite is the craft store. I needed some props and gear for my food styling so off I went. I didn't take much time to shop but the long line to the cashier made me hungry. While waiting my turn to pay off my purchases, I was fantasizing my meal.

After the store, I proceeded to the bus stop to get my ride back home. No use walking , I thought, and even if I was bundled up, the wind chill was stabbing my face. On the ride, I was still contemplating my meal. I though of going to McDonald's or KFC for a quick fix, but I vowed that I'd rather starve than go to those fast food chains. However, if I was amongst friends opting for it, I would be left with no choice. After all, I wouldn't want them to 'stumble' on my account.

I decided to go to my favorite deli to see what I would fancy. The thickness of the rib eye with all its marbling made my mouth water at the thought of a juicy steak. I often wondered why they sold steaks in such thick slices while back home, we were very stingy with our cuts. Then I realized that you could burn the outside crust while maintaining the juiciness and pinkiness for a medium well steak. I often conclude that a steak shouldn't be cooked well done, because it looses its moistness, nor should it be rare- better eat the cow, and I hate to see blood on my plate.

After the deli, I went to the liquor store to buy another prop for my project. John, the sommelier is one of the most important person in my culinary journey. He tells me the best wines to try for my budget, what his latest deliveries are and he would even suggest wine pairings for some food. Today, I asked for some vodka to infuse with my fruits. He immediately went behind the counter and got a bottle of clear liquid which he handed out to me. I looked at the bottle and my eyes almost popped out when I saw that the alcohol content was 96% pure. John explained its characteristics and that he himself did some experimentation by adding spices such as corriander, thyme and mint among others.

As soon as I arrived home, I started preparing my meal by putting a heavy steel pan on the stove. My stomach was rumbling and whining. From the fridge, I took out whatever salad ingredients I could find. Lettuce, brocolli slaw, croutons, feta cheese and whatever fruit I can find, I dumped it in. This time , we only had persimmons so I peeled it up and cut them to size. After seasoning the steak with salt and pepper I slapped it on the hot pan and the apartment smelled of burnt offering so aromatic that am sure God would be pleased. While my steak was cooking, I prepped up my table and opened myself a bottle of wine. Hmmm, I may be alone but boy! I ain't lonely.



my dinner of steak, salad and a glass of wine-- well about 3 glasses...
After dinner, I was ready to work....placed some dancing music of Stevie Wonder, Eumir Deodato and some Earth, Wind and Fire......then off I was grooving away....shutter speed happy, and .feeling chemist happy (I had to make my fruit infussions-- no vodka drink for me when am working)......the pictures will speak for itself.




here's my proof! 96% proof


My studio..The nice thing about food photography is that your models don't complain what their best sides are...And you can eat or drink your models after. Can't say the same for other photographers.. heheheh! (you know what am talking about)


a preview of my work...still needs a lot of practice, but am getting there....

Jews, Jus and Joes

It was a first for me as I entered the building of the Jewish Heritage Museum, where a panel discussion about the 'chosen food for the chosen people' was going to be discussed. As soon as I took my seat, the moderator for the event took to the microphone and started what seemed like a very educational afternoon.

I previously met Jennifer Lee, the author of “Fortune Cookies”, several months ago at another discussion regarding the origins of chinese food in New York. Her wit, humor, and extensive travels abroad justified the eloquence of the topic and it was enough to keep the audience glued to the conversation among the speakers.

Donald Siegel, author of “From Lokshen to Lo Mien” , a New Yorker with Orthodox Jewish heritage, gave his own accounts about eating Chinese food. Lokshen is the noodles of the Jews, and Kosher, often observed by Jews, is the term given to those that conform to the hassidic dietary laws which is found in the book of Leviticus.

Jennifer contends there are more chinese restaurants all over America than all the fastfood chains like McDonald's, Wendy's, KFC and Burger King combined. Therefore, it is unavoidable not to be influenced by chinese cuisine. The Jews have many strict dietary restrictions and chinese cuisine is sometimes far from being kosher. But as Dr. Siegel says that if you can't identify the ingredients as used in the food, then it's considered as 'safe trief'. (which the chinese food is notorious for chopping up undistinguishable offals/discards which are considered non-kosher and produce into palatable concoctions) Reminds me of the saying, “what you don't know won't hurt you.” But then again, Dr. Seigel declares that his rabbi doesn't particularly agree with this interpretation.

And speaking about 'chosen people', what does it really mean? Are they 'Chosen' to suffer from enjoying good food like lechon, lobsters and other split hoofed animals or 'chosen' to show what can happen if one abstains from enjoying the good food. LOL! So, what is the chosen food for the chosen people? LO MIEN, say the speakers. But then again it is still a matter of interpretation!

After that event, Staten Island was the next desitination where Mike has made residence temporarily. We chose to have 'a merienda cena' with Mike's new room mate Steve and his partner Dave. Two wonderful souls. Dave, a former master chef of 15 years turned public servant chose not to be a vegetarian for the occassion, preparing our meal of baked potato chunks spiced in fennel seeds and other herbs, tasty fried pork steaks with brown mustard sauce and Steve's sauteed mushroms with 'al dente' veggies . Prior to the main course, we were all enjoying brie which was easily washed down with Portuguese red wine Mike brought for the occasion. Steve's narration about his experiences as a paramedic plus his travels to Honduras was equally entertaining. It was indeed a memorable moment to cherish. Thank God for wonderful souls.

By the end of the day, I was totally relaxed and fulfilled to have spent such a good weekend. And am looking forward to next weekend where another exciting event called the “Chocolate Show” will be happening in New York. In the meantime, back to the grind!



My ticket to the discussion. Very informative..nice


Chef Dave preparing the meal...I should ask for more tips.. sumptuous meal!


Dave, Steve and moi--yummy food, entertaining conversations and full of laughter



Saying goodbyes are always difficult, but we had to since we were catching the ferry back to manhattan. What a day!!!

Hot Plate and a Hot date

Before I get overwhelmed and not be able to write the past, (which was just yesterday), I have to make a short review first. For the past few weeks, Mike and I would scour the downtown area, going through Soho, the Italian neighborhood and Chinatown, sometimes even passing Brooklyn. But yesterday, we decided to go uptown, since it's been ages that we last strolled the area.

We wanted to go to Zabar's, that cool place that sells about a thousand kinds of cheeses from all over the world, and displays top of the line 'high society' kind of epicurean experience as well.. So taking the subway #3 train, and stopping at 72nd st. we strolled upwards to our destination. Along the way, there was a new Trader Joe's (a grocery that sells organic stuff) just newly opened and we purchased some items for home.

Then we stopped at Niko's, a resto offering Mediterranean cuisine, which was a return for us. Our waitress was a beautiful blonde in her 20's, who had a very accommodating attitude that often displayed a smile everytime she came to our table. (we did give her a big tip). During our first visit, we had the cold platter of tzatziki, taramasalata, whipped caviar, roasted beets etc..kinda vegetarian type

This time we ordered a hot platter appetizer that had calamari, crab cakes, spinach cheese pie, stuffed grape leaves and octopus kind of dish. Presentation was at par , food was palatable and I paired my meal with a glass of cabernet wine from Israel. It wasn't the food that really gave me a sense of high, but it was that feeling when you're with the one you love, nothing else matters. And to me, that was the pinnacle of my day. The calmness, the ambience and the lightness of spirit that only two people with like minds can only comprehend.



Our overhead decor....good thing they were faux or I'd have jumped up and grabbed some



This was Mike's drink...an ouzo liquore kind of thing.. You could drink it straight up, or you could dilute it with water (thus the copper like pot) or down it with ice on black olives...



Our order of hot mezze platter....

Asian Fare

Every chance we get, Mike and I try new places to eat. Whether it's a hole in the wall or some fancy bistro, it is always an experience. Of course our middle, working class pockets allows us limited choices. Besides, a place becomes expensive only because of the service they offer, or how fancy they dress up a dish. For as long as the food is palatable and the place sanitizingly inviting, then it can pass.

One of our favorite waiters in New Jersey recommended us to an "eat all you can" buffet a few blocks off the Penn Station in New York. Back then, it was called Todai, and we never really gave it a thought—and all we could say then was – 'someday'. Well that someday turned out to be last Friday.

My budget luncheons always carry a $10 limit because with that amount, I could easily get myself a good Korean rice meal complete with banchans, meat, veggies and soup, or a mediterranean falafel can last me for my next meal some 8 hours later. But when I went to the assigned place, the name had been changed to Ichiumi. I had already processed my mind to spend a few more dollars as what my friend suggested the meal would cost, but whem I got to the place, lunch turned out to be almost twice what I expected.

I really wasn't ready to spend much, but I had invited my hubby to the place and the least I could do was to see if he liked the place before we did an about face to search for another resto. Through the glass window that separated the receptionist and the main dining area, I could see Mike inspecting the dishes lined up on one area or the room. He glanced at me and gave his thumbs up, signaling that we have found our restaurant.

The sushi/sashii station had an assortment of 50 different kind; 10 different kinds of raw seafood including oysters, clams, and fishes; there were 16 side dishes such as seaweeds, sea urchins, portions of tiny grated 'whatever it was' japanese kind” of sides, 7 different soups including miso, and seaweed ; Sho mais and gozas were enclosed in a glass steamer; then there were 23 different hot entrees including tempuras, fried crispy fishes, 3 kinds of rice which included kimchee rice, 15 kinds of appetizers, and about 20 different finger size desserts. It was an Asian fare with a hint of a caesar salad or cheese bits here and there.

In totality, the food was good and we washed it down with warm sake. A great experience and am sure we will be returning customers soon.



there were at least 10 chefs behind the food that kept on refilling the plates.



this is mike's plate...i had about 5 servings...i basically tried everything..but i went slow on the desserts.

Will Facebook Age Me Out?

Facebook is addicting and if you're reading this, you're probably addicted as I am. But nevertheless, facebook is like a life book. Life unfolds itself through your friend's walls and that it's like your morning newspaper which you kind of need a daily dose of to start your day.

We greet friends, share links and occassionaly be naughty, comical, informative or newsy (nosey ?) as we see fit. Sometimes we try to be subtle with quotes and messages hoping that friends can read between the lines.

Every event in one's life as posted in facebook, is part and parcel of one's growth . Like a ballgame, a step, an episode, a battle, Life is a series of success and failures. It is not the answered prayer, but in the waiting or expecting of an answer. It is not in the winning a sport, but how it is played. Every event becomes meaningful especially if shared in a venue called FACEBOOK.

As I read messages/news posted on my wall, I smile at the happy ones, and feel for the not so pleasant ones, Then I recalled an exercise I had when taking a nursing class in Ohio. And it went something like this.

The exercise was to write on 5 separate sheets , the 5 most important things in your life (exclude God in the equation) starting with 5 as the least important building up to number 1 as the ultimate most important one .. So I listed down my answers in 5 separate sheets and placed them right in front of me.

Then she told us to take the number 5 sheet, and I looked at the word 'CAREER', “Crample the paper,” she said “then throw it away. Now close your eyes. If you lost that , HOW WOULD YOU FEEL?!”
Career to me was important because it lifted my self-esteem; it was a source of income and it was a venue for creating friends. But loosing it was no big deal. I still had several fall back positions.

Then our teacher said, take number 4, I looked at the word 'MONEY' , “Crample it,” she said, “ then throw it away. Now close your eyes. If you lost that, HOW WOULD YOU FEEL?!”
Even if you didn't have a job but had savings, then it was all right. Though, money is relative, when you have lots of it, you have lots of relatives, well sort of. Money can be liberating and make you feel self sufficient from this materialistic world, so I thought. But even if I lost all of it, I still had 3 more buffer to go.

Then she again said, take your number 3 paper, I looked at the word “HEALTH'. By then she told us to look carefully at what we wrote, “ crample the paper,” she said “ think again for a few minutes. If you lost this, HOW WOULD YOU FEEL?!”
Health is wealth, so even if I didn't have money, for as long as I am able bodied to do what needs to be done and not be a burden to anyone, then I am okay. For as long as I am still useful then everything is fine. Or so I thought.

Then our teacher looked intently at each and everyone of us, as if allowing us to prepare ourselves for something. Then she told us take the fourth piece of paper which supposedly contained the second most important thing in our lives. I looked at the word FAMILY and FRIENDS. Then she said, “crush that piece and throw it away. What if the most treasured family, or the most treasured friend is taken away from you , HOW WOULD YOU FEEL?”

There is nothing more fulfilling than being accepted by your own family even without money to share nor achievements to boast. And often, friends can even be considered family because of the emotional affinity. With no job, money or afflicted of failing health, family will always be there by your side . But what if your very own family starts to shun you and even despises your presence? The thought of such a scenario brought tears to my eyes. My chest tightened and I started to heave sighs of sadness at the thought of a life without family, without the love of children, without the cares of relatives or even the concerns of friends. I tried wiping the snot that was flowing through my nostrils, and even with my eyes closed, the tears incessantly flowed. At this point, the stillness of the room was overcome with heavy sighs, nose blowings and faint signs of sobbing.

Finally the teacher said, “take that last piece of paper which you considered the MOST IMPORTANT ITEM in you life. Look at it well,” Then through misty eyes, I looked at my scribbly writing of the word, 'SENSES'. My teacher then said, “This is the hardest to let go and accept, but think very well for a few minutes, slowly crush that piece of paper. If that is taken away from you, HOW WOULD YOU FEEL?”

Without a job, money or health and no family member or friend who even cared, I am all alone. And worst of all, without the proper functions of my five senses , I would not be able to see the beauty of creation, taste the richness of food, hear the calmness of the ocean, feel the warmth of the weather nor even smell the freshness of the surroundings. Life would have no meaning then. It will even be harder to accept the thought of losing ones mind to Alzheimers or Dementia. I was sobbing like a baby as the thought of myself feeling hopeless, helpless and useless dawned on me. Am I categorically allowed to say, “Can I please die NOW?”

The fate of aging is inevitable. It cannot be postponed or cancelled. It will come. How it will present to us, we'll never know until it knocks itself at our doorstep. It is up to us how we shall accept the unwanted. I don't know myself. I will probably treat it like a blind date, from now on, I will accept it as fate.....fatebook anyone?



at the MOMA, when you think you are...

Being Tambokingking is OK

One day my hubby and I were browsing over the pictures we took in one of our 'laag' episodes. There were lots of silly poses, memorable places and people craziness . Then it went to a picture of me in full frame complete with boots and coat get up.

I smiled at myself thinking how chunky I had become from being someone so lanky and malnourished looking into a gorgeous solid piece of gummy scultpure. With a smile, I looked at my hubby. His lips twitched and pouted which gave me the impression of thoughtless abandon as if to say, “Is this the woman I married? Boy, she's changed—well, I mean, sideways that is.” My grin turned into a quizzical, brows meeting look.

Did my hubby want me to be six again—well size six that is? Or did he want me to be like my daughter's size when I was her age and which was a '1'. But it took me thirty years to be the size I am today! Did he want me to shrink back in 30 days? You must be joking!!!! At this point in my life, I wish I was counting accomplishments rather than pounds.

Then again, I think to myself. Why make myself look like everyone else? I am not opting to appear in any film , nor am I going to be in the cover of “Vogue” or “Penthouse” for that matter. Besides all those women in magazines have magical formulas which they call 'Adobe Photoshop”.

Why will I expose myself to a lot of suffering just to look good? And for who's benefit? I'm healthy, I'm happy and I'm having fun. I don't need any testosteronic jugglers who look out for that willowy, curvaceous figure so they can fantasize on them. I'm contented with what I have, an apple body with an Adam who thinks there's no other apple but me.

In Rhonda Byrne's book “the Power”, ( the author also of 'The Secret'), she mentions that ' the positive force of love can create anything good, increase the good things and change anything good in your life.” Which to my translation is “love what you do, and do what you love.” So for this matter, for as long as I have love (love for my chunky body, hehehe!) everything else is secondary. Shouldn't you do the same?



spring/fall look..secret of a chunky body...wear loose clothing..hehehe!

Iron Chef America: Behind the Scenes and Alton Brown

It is that time of the season when the food and wine festival comes to New York. Anyone in the food industry, from celebrities, suppliers, kitchen appliance manufacturers, dealers etc..come to converge in this 4 day affair. There are culinary demonstrations, parties where celebrities come and join, tour packages, wine tastings ,organic events etc...anything to do with “food and wine”--thats just it!

I am not one to join the food parties because, first, they are costly considering I have a limited budget. Besides, with the amount saved, being in New York just seems simpler to just go to a celebrity chefs restaurant. Second, if you plan to rub shoulders with chefs at these parties, think again! Many have similar thoughts and you'd be lucky to even just have a look.

In events like these, I often look for those that educate rather than entertain. Tickets for the event are put out 5 months in advance for people to plan their trips. And I normally book the events that I fancy prior to being sold out. This year I signed up for 2 events, which were talks at the Times Center. One was “Iron Chef America: Behind the scenes” and the other was “Mixing it up: Alton Brown”.

Upon purchasing my tickets to the “Iron Chef”, my expectations were minimal in that I expected a producer, at least one chef and a moderator to talk about the makings of the show. However, to my great surprise, the event featured three chefs – Bobby Flay, Masaharu Morimoto and Jose Garces as the main speakers and twice nominated pulitzer prize journalist Kim Severson as the moderator.

It was indeed a fun one-hour show where the three chefs were jabbing away at each other and Morimoto clowning around like anything. Just so you know, the Iron Chef does filming only once a year and in the summer. It takes around 3 weeks to finish 23 episodes normally filming 2 episodes a day. So you can imagine the gruesome tensions these chefs have.

The chefs know beforehand who their competitors are since they are provided a list of schedules for the shoots. However, since it is a competition, none of the chefs have any clue what the magic ingredient is, and none of them know who the judges will be. As Bobby Flay would say, “we don't know who to send flowers before the show”. They are given 4 choices where one is a possible ingredient. With this, the chef discusses with his staff their strategies in what to prepare.

The producers of the show would ask each chef for any special ingredient they would like aside from what's provided in the pantry or if they prefer any special tool brought in. The Iron Chefs, though, have a home court advantage over the competitors, since they would have prior knowledge of where most ingredients are usually placed or where a certain utensil or tool is strategically situated over what appliance.

If there is anything that these celebrity iron chefs want is the need to WIN! Bobby Flay has an average of 68% wins, Morimoto has a similar batting average, but Jose Garces has the most number of wins. Probably because he is new and has had less appearances than the former two.

Oh and by the way, when asked who would first present the choices to the judges, they normally just flip a coin. After the one hour preparation and the 5 dishes are presented, they have at least 45 minutes to finish up and present all their dishes to the judges. And it takes about 2 hours for the judges to decide who the winner will be.

After the talk, there was a Q&A portion, and of course I had to ask and this was the gist of it:

“Since most of you have restaurants in key cities all across the U.S and have people come to them, is there a possibility of you making your own food truck and going to the rural areas so these people can also try your food?” the moderator said, “good question.” and faced the speakers. And the only one who initiated such an endeavor was Jose Garces, who informed us that he is in the finishing stages of decorating his food truck.

In between the first talk and the next was a 3 hour interval so I immediately walked out the building to grab a bite. A few blocks away was a hole in the wall kind of Korean take out which offered Bon bon chicken which I gulped down with a can of coke. After my meal, I rushed back to find my spot in the line of growing Alton Brown fans.

Being early always catches the better seat, and I did get front row center aisle as well. Right smack the speakers, Mr. Alton Brown and author/moderator Julia Moskin. Alton is who he is on stage as well as on t.v. All his food shows are composed of three points: Entertain, Inform and Teach. He was primarily a commercial director before he joined the food industry. He did go to culinary school but not to become a chef, but to have a knowledge of food and present it as information rather than experience. In totality, that is just what he has done. Alton Brown is who he is, entertainer comedienne par excellence, food historian, teacher and a great guy-- Should I need to say more?!

MEN Just can't Leave me Alone

I don't know what's in the air, but lately, I've been having my shares of flirtatious moments. Not that I am the one initiating such actions, but it's just that these dirty old men won't leave me alone.

Last year, on my way to a food show, I was briskly walking to the train station when a man a few meters walking opposite me stopped in his tracks and upon nearing him, he asked me, “you look so pretty.” I smiled and said thank you, but he followed it up with, “would you like to have a date with me?” Shocked was my reaction that I almost gagged at my reply, “Gotta go, am late for the food show.” And this was broad daylight at 10 in the morning. Geesh, loooweeessss!

Then another time, while waiting for a subway train, an MTA attendant at the station struck up some light conversation. Why he chose me amidst all those people waiting, I had no clue. But then I realized that his chit chat was leading to asking me out that I had to cut him short and say I was meeting my husband uptown, and that was when he backed off.

Don't get me wrong, but love affairs here in American can start out in situations like this. Just like with my friend, Kay, who I was to meet up at a mall with her sister. She had met her beau while traveling on a train, they chatted while in transit and one date led to another. And yes, they are now a couple.

So I was suppose to meet her at a mall last Saturday, and while I was waiting for the bus, a man driving a light blue car pulled over, right in front of me and said, “I hope the bus lines are working good today.” And I said, “Oh yes they are, one just passed by but am waiting for a friend.” (not true since I was really alone and the bus takes longer on weekends) Then he smiled, and said, “okay, have a good day.” And then he sped off. I instantly knew that was a pick up line, because why else would he stop on a busy highway to talk to me, right? If only he drove a lamborghini instead of a clunker, I might have reconsidered...heheh... they have to have some CARacter to be considered.

And a week earlier, I posted on my wall a similar situation were a guy from the post office wanted to engage in some communication. MEN!!!!!

AT my age, it is very flattering to be noticed and appreciated even if the wrinkles are visible and the love handles are oozing out of my clothes. It is good for my esteem, and I do get different reactions everytime I tell people my experiences. My kids would say, “yuk! Ka lu-od nimo!” which to them I can only conclude that I am way past my egg producing days, thus I am useless in those flirtatious moments. But to my husband, he is proud that his wife is still desirable. (kuno)

Friends my age, have experienced similar incidents theirs are even much more applauding. I like the incident where a young male in our group went up to my classmate and told her he fantasizes about her many times.

So what do we do when faced with moments like this: Smile and be glad that at our age, we're still “hastang lami-a”( eatable as my husband would adjectivize) ....and of course, brag to your friends about it. That's just what we did last Saturday, and even if you get older, story telling your experiences will get good laughs always, like this story:

Three old ladies were sitting in their retirement home reminiscing. The first old lady recalled shopping at the greengrocer's, and demonstrated with her hands the length and thickness of a cucumber that she could buy for a penny.

The second old lady nodded, adding that onions also used to be much bigger and cheaper. She then used her hands to demonstrate the size of two big onions that she used to be able to buy for a penny each.

The third old lady remarked: “I can't hear a word you're saying, but I remember the guy you're talking about.”

On Beauty Queens

The newspapers in the Philippines recently covered many issues about the recently concluded Miss Universe Pageant. Miss Philippines, who had an equal shot at getting the title, did a 'major, major' blunder in the question and answer portion. For someone who is suppose to be top of her class, Venus Raj's reply was short of being impressive.

To add insult to injury was the statement made by a former Philippine Miss Universe (saying her name just makes it stinky) insinuating that 'Cebuanos hardly speak English' is just a denigration to the dignity of a Bisaya.

Any Cebuano's reaction to that statement must have blown their top thinking what an A.H she was. I too was not spared from being angry. But then again, what if Pokwang ,Annabelle Rama, or Pilar Pilapil , true bloodied Cebuanas, would have said it, will we be as offended as we are now?

How is it when the blacks insult their kind or that the gays make fun of themselves, it is okay. But if someone other than their kind makes fun of them, it is derogatory and discriminating?

In his book, “the Four Agreements”, Mexican author Don Miguel Ruiz advises on truths that lessen the sufferings of men.

One of the agreement is to speak impeccably the truth and without malice. Which probably the ex-Miss Universe failed. If she meant that beauty queens should speak in a language and manner comfortable to them, then she should have said it in clearer way instead of saying what she did, as seen in the video being circulated.

Another agreement from the book states that we should not take anything personally. What most people normally say and do is a projection of their own reality, and is as much a scenario in their own dream. When one is immune to the opinions and actions of another, then one can not be a victim of suffering. How many of us are often victims of statements not really intended for us, yet we take it as if it were our own. In my Philosophy class in college I remember Madame Quisumbing and Miss Hernando make statements of “If's...thens...” So if given the statement, “Cebuano's hardly speak English”....and I rephrase that statement to , “I am Cebuano,but I speak English.” is the statement true or false?....

Although ex-beauty (in her follow up statements) erred in her words about the language, the gist of the matter is that Cebuanos have hard tongues---oh! So that's it! Didnt someone say she has a Cebuano boyfriend? In case of power failure, he has the--- Oh! Oh!!! and OOOOHHHh! See that's why our Cebuano men are great lovers...hehehehe!

Making assumptions in any situation often leads to misunderstanding. The word 'assume' has the acronym phrases that when you make assumptions, you make an ASS out of U and ME. It is better to clarify than conclude. The reporter who re-interviewed the ex-beauty should have showed her the video of her statements. Not only has she earned the title of EX-Beauty, she has now garnered the title, “MISS DENIAL QUEEN”.

It is very difficult to unscramble a beaten egg, or to collect back feathers that flew. It is even harder to take back what has already been said. And added to that, the three most difficult words to say is ,”I AM SORRY.” Pride has its cost, and could be a very expensive one.

As a Cebuano, I can forgive what Ms. Gloria Diaz said,(there I gave her name) but the pain I have with my fellow Cebuanos can only be healed through time. I do not know how long this scenario between the Cebuanos and GD will end, but I hope it will be a happy ending. We are after all Filipinos.

And I do like what MARGIE MORAN ,Miss Universe 1973 replied when she was asked : "What’s the difference between being Miss Universe and being a Filipina?" Her reply: "Being Miss Universe is like having a birthstone, you may lose it. Being a Filipina is like having a birthmark, its forever."

Now that's what I call ….good answer!...good answer!!!...and being Cebuana to me is just icing on the cake....




the one and only beauty queen of my heart...gorgeous..stunning...

Two Birds with one stone

What does a girl do right after she has gone to school and is ready for the 'real world'? As far as our culture is concerned, weren't we taught to be good girls, learn to cook and sew so that we could catch our Mr. Right? How many of you were taught like this, raise your hands.

Nevertheless, those story books that depicted of a prince saving a damsel in distress probably rubbed into us the wrong way. The prince would come running to our rescue and would save us. From what? From strict parents who deny you freedom even at 21?, from poverty? From being an old maid? My take on this is we're jumping from one Calphalon pan to another Creuset one. Same fried dish, different frying pan. Rescuing us by a Prince Charming is the number one myth we all grew up with..

Once rescued, (so to say) the next thing a Prince has to do is protection. Probably in the prehistoric era, women needed protection from the bears and the wolves . But in our day and age, we're probably better off protecting ourselves. Besides most men nowadays only want one thing---to get into a woman's pants...not that they're gay---You know what I mean.

Those story book tales and cartoons of yesteryears are such a misconception. Popeye rescuing the screamy, whiny Olive with her shrill voice that could waken the dead. For all its worth, Popeye is better off without Olive. Considering how thin she is, she probably doesn't know how to cook. And by the way, if you were a teenager, would you want to marry a guy that smelled like your grandpa, just like Popeye with his pipe?

Protection and Security expected from your prince is a thing of the past. If you marry for protection, you might as well get an insurance guy because he can give you the best policy for your protection. And Security?...get a guard from an agency, or some policeman who moonlights---both will give you security, don't they?

Sometimes marrying Mr. Right has its challenges. It's just like saying, you won't know how strong the tea is until it has been thoroughly infused. You just have to take chances and calculate your risks. Because, in life there are no guarantees except taxes and death.

A few years ago, Mike placed in facebook his status as “open relationship” which to me meant that we had no secrets between us. Our friends went abuzz inquiring, “what's with you guys?! How are you doing?” Frankly, I didn't know what the term meant until I looked it up, and it had something to do with promiscuity and sexual liberation. So I myself, had to ask my hubby “is there something I need to know?” He laughed and said, “what do you think?”

Mike and I have been married for 33 years plus 5 years of M.U. (in today's lingot's Mutual Understanding, but during my time it's Mag Una-una). We are not a perfect couple as we do have our quirks and misunderstandings. But there's a saying, the best gift a dad can give his children is to love their mother”, and that's just what Mike has been doing since and continues to do so. For that, I am forever grateful....... So to my hubby,

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!!!

by the way an advise for those guys wishing to marry - - since most of you at one time will forget an anniversary, why not get married on your birthday. ....that's just what my hubby did and he has never forgotten one single anniversaryyy ever since......sooo, to my palalabs!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY as well!!! TAGAY ta ron!

August 29 for us is just like hitting two birds with one stone



a pensive mike on our way home in a train....what is he thinking? did he make a mistake in getting married? hmmmmm

Wisdom with Age and Reunions

A few weeks ago, facebook was bombarded with high school reunions, especially since STC Cebu was having their annual alumni celebration. Most of the pictures of different levels from the Theresian community, consisted of parties, trips or just get togethers.Even if I wasn't there, reminiscing about those carefree days brought about such humongous nostalgia into my system.

In many reunions I would recall a classmate who revealed to us that while seated in class, she would fan both her knees to reveal her underwear to the delight of our male physics teacher.(but really, she wore shorts-- didn't we all, because then kulots was making its graceful exit out). And those tea parties we had during high school, making the nuns think that this was a noble way to socialize with the opposite sex under their very watchful eyes, was hilarious.

Then when we were in our Junior year in high school, there was an exchange of letters with boys from the junior class of an exclusive boys school. We used aliases and during the year, we'd receive letters from guys we didn't know. By the end of the schoolyear, we revealed ourselves, and you can just imagine the mixed reactions we all had. Every reunion brings about same stories of high school days, and it always makes us laugh everytime. But then new stories are added because we had moved on to much bigger roles and more challenging responsibilities.

During our silver jubilee many years back, we'd talk about careers, husbands and children. Intermixing with tales of the mundane to that of exhilarating experiences. We all have stories to tell and the few years away since high school, can not be compressed into the weekend getaway with the girls. Too many experiences to tell, too little time.

Then fast forward 5 years later into the next reunion, it is the same high school friends, reminiscing that same high school scenarios and still laughing at it everytime. But then, new experiences have emerged like a soap drama that has not completed its story. The twist from earlier events have turned into a mellowing crescendo. Deaths of schoolmates, love affairs , children marrying and births of grandkids. Each tale holding a special meaning to the story teller.

As I look at the pictures, I cannot help but smile. My classmates have grown – some sideways, others well, just like what my classmate Lennie S. said and I quote, “.... Each of you has developed into different variances of vintage wine. Some have developed like the sparkle of Champagne, characters with the richness of character of Merlot, the tenderness of a White Zinfandel, the deep commitments like the Pinot noir. All in all, 1975 was a year of good harvest of girls that have transformed to the basketful of varied, quality, vintage wines that gets better with each year.”

Lest we all get drunk and be carried away by our rambunctious thoughts, I cannot help but smile and be hopeful to take part in the next reunion !!! So before I end, let me tell you about this story, so graciously adopted....

A 72 years old cook was walking through the woods
and was looking for truffles to make some soup for her king.

She stopped and sat on an old log to rest,
when she heard a voice say, "Pick me up."
She looked around and couldn't see any one.
She thought she was dreaming when she heard the voice say a gain,
"Pick me up." She looked to her side, and saw a frog sitting on a tree stump.

The cook said, "Are you talking to me?"
The frog said, "Yes, I'm talking to you. Pick me up, then kiss me
and I'll turn into the most handsome man you have ever seen.
I'll make sure that all your friends are envious and jealous because I will be your groom!"

The cook looked at the frog for a short time, reached over, picked it up carefully,
and placed it in her apron pocket.

Then the frog said, "What, are you nuts? Didn't you hear what I said?
I said kiss me and I will be your handsome groom."

She opened her apron pocket, looked at the frog and said, "Nah, at my age I'd rather have a talking frog."

With age comes wisdom.....

Okay, by the way, Mike , my hubby was named “Baki” (visayan translation of frog) by his siblings. Why? Dunno, ask them....So, I had my groom when I was young, now I have my talking frog. Hehehe! I am blessed!

mama mia!!!

If my mom's life story was to be portrayed in a movie, we'll probably be rich. It has all the makings of tragedy, romance, drama, mystery, horror, war stories and tons of comedy to boot. And my mom can shame the acting prowess of Meryl Streep or Vilma Santos many times over.

Oh and yes! She too had the proverbial slap that most tagalog movies are famous for. It would be interesting if she were to write her memoir, because this was one turning point of her life. It was after the war (1940's kind of thing) when my mommy was a teenager, that she was prohibited by my grandma from seeing my dad. But the rebelliousness in her defied this rule. So one day, a snitch told my grandma that my mom was watching a movie with my dad. Off goes lola, waiting outside the moviehouse until the show was over. When lola saw mom come out with my dad in tow, my mom got the slap of her life . From then on, after the humiliation she got, mommy vowed she will have to marry my dad no matter what.

As a disciplinarian, my mom brought us up in fear with the “don't do this or else....” If there was something she didn't like in us, she would then relate to us about making the moomoo, the abat or the madre unhappy and they would sweep us off to their abodes! By the way, the mabolo convent at that time was really horrifyingly huge for a child and the carmelite convent had invisible nuns singing from a caged enclosure. So you can imagine how careful we were lest we displease the spooks mommy talked about.

But the one thing that my mom was famous for was her being a comedian and the life of many parties.
My mom was comfortable with just about anyone. She could rub shoulders with the crème de la crème of Philippine society and make them laugh. And she could also be sipping sikwate and eating budbud with the tinderas of carbon and pasil, while reading them their fortunes through playing cards.

Then in one of her friend's reunions, she would don a colorful long gown (mumu) and decorate herself with whatever fancy jewelry she could handle just for fun and then make a grand entrance. Her friends would laugh and cajole with her even while she was limping from walking with high heels she never was accustomed to. If there was a lady gaga in costume during her time, she was it.

In the later years of her life, mommy became very religious. She would attend prayer meetings, often hear mass and join bible studies. She and Tita Nena Garcia, her confidante and best friend, would be seen together in many of those events. Last year, there was an occasion where she graced a function intended for the widows/widowers of Bukas Loob. A young lady obliged her in a conversation and asked, “Tita Lolly, when diay namatay imong husband?” (Tita Lolly, when did your husband die?)
My mom looked at her with a devilish glance, “Na unsa ka man, inday (What ever happened to you?) I have two husbands and they're both alive.” After which my mom would guffaw to her hearts content.

Lately, my mother was not feeling well. And in many of our phone calls, she often reminded us that if anything happened to her, we were not to come home but instead move on with our lives. She had also told that to her sisters, who are all residing abroad. Then the inevitable happened.

Last week my mom was hospitalized and her health was slowly deteriorating. She was rushed to the hospital and stayed in the Intensive Care Unit, where tubes and medicines were her bed mates. My oldest brother Steve, who is techno savy, was burning the lines from facebook, emails, text messages etc , informing us of her condition every moment necessary.

Every day, I would cry when I'd hear that although she would respond to the medicine they were treating her for, another complication would arise. It was a roller coaster of emotions, because when you think you'd have hope for a treated finding, a new one would occur.

Then the inevitable thing happened. A life threatening decision of which only the immediate members of the family had to decide. We had to be pragmatic at the same time sensitive to the many issues presented. Is it about the quality of life she will go through if ever, religion?, money?, time?, relationships?

It is moments like these that make a family (even the extended ones) closer together. It is moments like these that you will know and realize who your true friends really are. And it is moments like these, when prodigal children, sibling rivalries and broken relationships slowly ties you back like the umbilical cord that you once had shared at one time in your lives. And that was a good thing.

A couple of days ago, we had decided to let nature take its course and ease her suffering by not allowing too many tubes poke into her. From the ICU, where she would receive only one guest at a time, we believed that she wanted to be with family, listen to them and be with them. So, together with only the necessary machine mates, she was transferred to a regular room. The doctor said we had to hope for the best and prepare for the worst...And that's just what we did....Wait, Pray and Love...

Yesterday, I had a chat with my sister. She said mommy's tube had been taken off, her color is returning and she is now on her way to recovery. She has started to talk but with a blur. ALLELUIA ! My GOD BE PRAISED!

Things are steadily getting back to normal. My mom is being herself again, arguing with the doctors orders of wanting to go home. Welcome back, mom! And in this comedy of life, my mom had the best laugh after all!

And as my tita would say........to be continued...sa susunod ulit na kabanata....(until next time)






my mom with 'the look"...you know, that kind that a kid knows there's something going on. Maybe mom was kinda upset that i wore my favorite dress which was too small for me revealing my undies..."but MOM, it's the trend nowadays to show your undies and I set the trend 50 years ago."

Eat, Pray and Die

Not many people know how to eat, and when I say that, I do not mean it in a derogatory way. The majority eat to live but there are those that live to eat. The former basically do so for survival and the latter is either a connoisseur or a glutton.

Hunger is the best appetite, and for many underpriviledged ones, for as long as that pang is satiated, the quality of food is not in their primary concern. There are those, however, who have relationships with food in the sense that all their senses come alive. What am I saying?

Well, imagine you're in the green market, and you see a mound of bloody red apples . They're so beautiful, you pick one. The firmness and plumpiness in holding them just excites you. As your mind goes through the databank of recipes, you can smell the overwhelming freshness in the atmosphere. Then as if not contented with the touch, you bite into it like a vampire claiming it's victim. Soon all the juices start trickling down the sides of your lips and flows through your neck. It's sweetness and juiciness just absorbs you. You have finally met your mate. This time, you take it home with you, and there is no turning back. The sin has been comitted, your affair with the apple begins.

And of course, there are those who don't care so much about food. And I'm speaking about those that feed their souls first before the body. And don't confuse this with soul food—now that's a different story.....anyway...

The Supreme Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama ate his way to enlightenment. That's what they say though. Legend says that a woman took milk from a thousand cows and fed it to five hundred cows. She milked them and fed it again to half that number and so on. (talking about degressing multi level marketing scheme)..Anyway, from the final milk of eight cows, she prepared a sweetened dish of milk-rice, which was served to Gautama in a golden bowl. Gautama divided the meal into 49 rice balls and consumed them. He then tossed the golden bowl in a river and declared, “If today I am to attain full enlightenment, may this golden bowl swim upstream.” And it did.

The meal of 49 rice balls sustained Gautama for the next forty nine days, a time when he ate nothing and sat under a bodhi tree, and became Buddha.

Okay, and talking about Buddha, why is it that they often show him as a fleshy creature considering how frequently he fasted? And to top it all, his meal normally consisted of ONE sesame seed, ONE grain of rice, ONE jujube, ONE pulse pod, ONE kidney bean and ONE mungo bean...(the best organic diet to loose weight for anyone who wants those excess pounds off)

The Bible depicts Jesus Christ as a kind and forgiving man, but the story about the fig tree seems to repudiate that quality. It is said that a hungry Jesus entered Jerusalem, spotted a fig tree in the distance and approached it. But finding no fruit, he cursed it to remain fruitless forever. So the tree quickly withered. Why did Jesus pick on the tree which appeared to be harmless and blameless, right? And according to the gospel of Mark, it wasn't even the season of figs. Now that's what I call 'hunger kills.'

And if someone asked you what your last meal would be, would you know what to answer?

Well, for Buddha who often was a very gracious guest at many social events, a blacksmith named Cunda invited him and his monks for dinner. He served a dish called 'sukaramaddava' which translated into a 'pig's delight” Religious scholars have long debated whether this dish was pork or it could be one which is delightful to pigs such as truffles, roots or mushrooms.

Anyway, the Buddha alone ate the dish, forbidding his companions to partake. This is a tip-off, since Buddha wasn't really a selfish guy. Soon after eating, he felt violently ill but did not complain. He said it was not the food that was to blame and Cunda should feel no guilt. In fact, Buddha said, Cunda should be honored that he had served the Blessed One's final meal. Which indeed he had, because the Buddha soon died.

And as for Jesus, we all know about the Last Supper, it's pictures are all over. But what did it really consist of? Some unbelievers would probably consider the picture as a group of Jews having a men's night off, drinking wine and having bread with oil as amuse-gueule (sumsumans). Scholars believe that since they were all Jews, they'd probably have the Jewish seder dinner which Mathew, Mark and Luke depicted it to be. But John says that the supper occurred too early in the year to be a seder.

But if indeed it was a seder dinner, it would have consisted of horseradish, parsley, hard-boiled egg, celery leaves, lamb shank, and haroset (a mixture of nuts and chopped fruit). But there were several sweeping changes about the seder traditions after the 1st and 2nd century CE.

Oh and speaking about the Last Supper paintings, Leonardo de Vinci's last supper shows both lamb and fish on the table. Salvador Dali's “The Sacrament of the Last Supper” includes only bread and wine. But of course both paintings didn't come from memory.

And finally, have you seen Joey Velasco's version?...He's one great Filipino artist who just recently died. His version of the Last Supper is really one to behold.

Oh, and one more thing, does anyone know what kind of apple Adam and Eve ate? Was it granny smith, fuji, gala, delicious,McIntosh.........hmmmm....

Independence!

Ever since I first came to America more than 20 years ago, I was already impressed by what I saw. But the one thing I didn't like to hear was when an American asked if we Filipinos were perceived as people living in jungles. I did take offense in that, and even if I thought of the white foreigners as living in a developed society where they were high up there like monkeys on trees, from my point of view of looking up like cave people, all I could see were assholes. But I am not getting into that......

I like the perception of that so called 'freedom' and the land of opportunity that America advertises but I shall not forget the tropical paradise that my own native land entices . It reminds me of some that I will enumerate a few which are very distinct of both places.

1) Filipinos marry for money...well, pretty much I should say. Many families, because of the economic situation would often push their children to marry someone with that “CARacter” and the “PESOnality” rather than love. The proverbial visayan quote of, “sagdi lang kung saging, basta labing.” (it's okay if we just eat bananas as long as we are in love.) does not hold true anymore. In those days, (or shall I say ''during my time') bananas were just picked from trees in anyone's backyard. But now, with smoke belching cities and well guarded farms, bananas are sold 5 pesos a piece...so there's always a math involved.....
On the other hand, Americans DIVORCE for money. Pinoy families come here for a better life, own a house, accumulate wealth and then find themselves into uncompromising situations that end up in divorce. I know of some Pinoy couples who have gone awry but the classic celebrity examples are those of Tiger woods and Paul Macartney to name a few...

2)“ON TIME” in America is just that. Seldom can you see schedules listed that are not followed, unless something comes up, then an announcement of a reason is made. In Pinoy land, whether its a function or a plane ride, people are always late, and even a bizarre explanation is never an excuse. Otherwise if the event is on the dot, then a foreigner must have been the organizer.

3)The Philippines which is predominantly Christian with Spanish influence can send conflicting messages to those that adhere much to its teachings. For one, the submissive wife is not meant to be a doormat and be considered a light house (ilaw ng tahanan is what I mean). It is difficult to become a Maria Clara on the outside when inwardly one feels like a Paris Hilton. It just doesn't work. The dictates of cultural values and christian upbringing does not jive with the modern way of thinking. You cannot be yourself without scrutiny from those that comply with traditional beliefs and/or established norms. For majority of the Americans who are broad minded and have been exposed to instant gratification, life just comes as you please it to be.

Having been in America for a while, I have learned to appreciate the diversity of customs and heritages of many countries. Communicating intellectual conversations with people from all walks of life with different cultural backgrounds has broaden my myopic views of what the outside world is. Such is the life here. As I freely learn to educate myself in this country, I tend to be more understanding, more liberal and less judgmental. I am freer to be me.

But I also miss my motherland, the Philippines, where the people are more respectful, more courteous and more generous with the less they have. I am grateful for the roots I have, since it brings substance and meaning to my existence. And no matter where I am, the home of my birth will always be where my heart is.

Okay, so before I go here's one for you, guys:

A man was walking through Chinatown when he saw a sign saying, “Hans Schmidt's Chinese laundry
Being curious, he went into the shop and was greeted by an elderly Oriental man who introduced himself as Hans Schmidt.
“how come you have a name like that?” inquired the stranger. “you don't even look German.”
“Is simple.” said the Oriental shop owner. “Many, many year ago when come to this country, I stand in immigration line behind big German guy. Immigration lady look at him and go, “what's your name?” he say, 'Hans Schmidt.' Then she look at me and go, 'what your name?' I say, 'Sam Ting.'”

HAPPY JULY 4th everyone..

Generation Gap

I always thought that I was a cool mom, and that my children were proud of me because we were on the same 'wavelength'. The relationship was not that of someone in authority over juveniles but rather like 'dudes/dudettes with limitations', after all, I am still a parent.

It was only many years into motherhood, that the tide shifted from that of a disciplinarian ally, to being that of a submissive follower. One time as we were on our way out for dinner, my daughter insisted I change my wardrobe. “Why?” I asked.
“you look old and your colors are not coordinated.'
“who cares, “ I said,
“WE DO!!!” cried my husband and children in unison.

I'm not a fashionista, so I guess it was more for their sake of facing embarrassment than my being criticized as having no taste. Oh, and speaking about taste and intelligence, my husband and I would have countless debates on who was the smarter person. But in the end, I would concede that my hubby was the more intelligent one and the one with taste, after all, he married me.

Even when it came to music, I thought my kids and I were synchronized. We were woodstock baby boomers, and today's head banger music is no comparison to the led zepilin and jimi hendrix of our days. To me, music is universal and therefore had no barriers, but I guess I was wrong because when I asked my son if he wanted to watch a concert, our conversation went something like this.

“Isaiah, you want to go see the APO? They're good you know.”
“Who are they, mom?” asks Isaiah. (my 21 year old son is clueless about this group)
“ You know, they're those three funny guys who sing and dance and tell jokes.”
“am I suppose to know them?” ask my son.
“YES! They're icons of the pinoy music industry, they're famous, anak!.”
“what do they sing? English, bisaya or tagalog.” asks my son.
“they sing English, but mostly tagalog, and I think they did some bisaya songs for fun.”
“but I have a hard time understanding tagalog, mom” he said, “and why should I see them?”
“because one of them is my friend and I want you to.” I said.
“Oh! Now I know who those three guys are. And which one is your friend?” He says.
“The tall cute one.” I answered.
“Ah you mean Tito and the other two are Vic and Joey.” said Isaiah ......... I fell off my chair.!



Two weeks ago, I posted in facebook some pictures of the Philippine parade in New York City. The TFC float featured young stars, whom I had no idea as to their identity, but my friends knew them as a Sarah G. and a Christian B. Then a week later, I posted again pictures of the Puerto Rican parade where a picture of a famous rapper I photographed whom I later found out was a p. diddy.....diddy know him at all is what I can say.

I normally take it when my kids call my attires baduy or my music bakya, but when they start ridiculing me that 'am old' I say---”WAIT A MINUTE!!!” But then when I reflect that life is indeed moving too fast at a speed I can't even keep up with, I now think twice.

Being termed as 'old' has its advantages, it depends how you perceive it to be. For one thing, your secrets are safe with your friends because they won't be able to remember them either. And besides, experience is the best resume just like the best wine and fruit cakes taste excellent when aged.
And before I end let me make you smile by reading this:

Having been playing outside with his friends, a small boy came into the house and asked, “Grandma, what is it called when two people sleep in the same room and one is on top of the other?”
His grandma was surprised to hear such a forthright question from a six year old but decided to answer as honestly as she could. “Well,” she said hesitantly, “it's called sexual intercourse.”
“Oh okay,” said the boy, and he ran outside to carry on playing with his friends.
A few minutes later, he came back in and said angrily, “ Grandma, it isn't called sexual intercourse. It's called bunk beds. And Jimmy's mom wants a word with you.!”

Surprises! Surprises!

Today is to be my dad's 80some birthday, and I was suppose to surprise him with a phone call. However, he surprised me instead. AGAIN! This facebook has its way of startling you with the unexpected.

After my morning rituals done, I sat my mug of espresso and logged on to check my emails. I was perplexed at someone who wanted to befriend me and included a note asking about my dad . Apparently, she had longed to know of her maternal grandfather, and the video my brother posted plus my essay seemed to resonate. She gave me details and finally inquired if my dad was her long lost grandfather.

As I read her note, my jaw dropped realizing that indeed her mother was the long lost child my dad wanted to find but didn't have any idea of her whereabouts. Instead, they found us.

Surprises are the spices of life. Whether they be fun, perplexing or unpleasant, they still come in many packages. Mine came in astonishing disbelief. The memories we have can only be triggered by the emotions it carries with it.

Male infidelities or promiscuity is not without its share of thrills in unwanted delusions. More often than not, it is not surprising for a woman's anticipation of a child. After all, she is part of the act and it is her body that can only bear witness to the coming of life. But for a man, his seed can be thrown, without him knowing if it blossomed or not. Such is the biology of life.

Earlier in my married life, I've tried some tricks on my husband to see if he had any flings or affairs on the side. One favorite prank I did was to wake him up in the middle of the night, while he was sleeping. I then whispered his ear, “Sir, mata na. Uli na sa inyo, basin naghuwat na si Misis.” (Sir, wake up. Go home. Your wife is waiting) He didn't budge at first, and I kept poking him. “Sir, mata na lagi, basin di na ta ka usab. Uli na diha, bah!”(Sir, wake up. We might not be able to repeat this. Go home!!!)

To which he would just turn on his side and say, “saba diha! Tulog na oy!” (shut up and go to sleep!)Then he would turn his back on me. I've always wondered what that meant? Should I give meaning that he doesn't have any side kicks? Or is he too smart for such indecencies...One never knows.

Last week, my son wrote on his Wall , “I live in a world full of stories.” Indeed, everyone has a story to tell. And it is only through our memories that we can relate to those stories. As I ponder and write many an amazing anecdotes, I realize that the stories we recall, are those that carry emotions with it. They are the ones we remember that changes our lives, redirect our intentions and shape our destinies.

There is nothing new in life that has not been experienced. Names, places and dates have only been changed but the wheels of human emotions, beings and experiences have always been a continuous existence.

Celebrities are not spared from such scrutinies, but simple people like us have as much intrigues by our neighbor's gossips or by the society we associate ourselves in. Some are more secretive about their lives than others, but as for me, I always believed that how painful or fun filled a life we have, the truth shall always set us free

Goodbye, Dad!

It was 4 in the morning when I woke up with a slight asthma attack. I've never had asthma, but the spring allergies have caught up on me big time. So I ran to the bathroom and drank my ration of Claritin to suppress my incessant cough. I didn't know why I still couldn't sleep, so I took my laptop and started checking on emails. I was still high from the messages my friends and my daughter were raving regarding the previous APO show, that my demeanor was light and cheery. I was happily chatting in facebook with my bff when my half brother in Manila, just popped up and said, “Ate, namatay na si daddy kanina.” (Big sister, Dad just died awhile ago."

 Confusion and disbelief was all I could feel. I then made small talk enough to gain the information needed to relay the news to my siblings in Cebu . I thanked him for the information and told him if there was anything we could do, to let us know. My dad was not sick nor did he have any lingering illness. For a man nearing the eighties, his mind was lucid and sharp. Probably the years of analyzing, speculating and investing in the derivatives market plus that of a trader has kept his mind in constant progression of his mental faculties. But the one investment that he gambled and failed was that of relationship. And I speak only for myself . 

 The hurts and humiliation of having an absentee dad was what prompted me to create a wall of indifference and apathy towards him. Unanswered issues made the barrier even higher as the years went by when his visits to us where scarce and few, as he had other responsibilities that needed his attention. It was only when he was back in Manila and on the verge of retiring, did my dad try to reach out. I was already abroad and we communicated by emails. At one time, he disowned me and vowed never to write again after I hurled some invective insults. He was giving me vague answers of “that's life” which was insufficient for my inquiring mind. But then he would reconnect by greeting me on my birthdays and christmas.

 About 2 years ago, I had the opportunity to speak wholeheartedly to my dad, when he came for a visit. In those few weeks that we were together, he had laid bare his soul and the gaps that were once darkened with doubts in my growing years, inched its way with some specks of light. Slowly as revelations were uncovered and issues addressed, I saw a different side of my father. When the news came of my father passing away, initially I did not cry. Maybe the years of absence had numbed the pain or that I was just in denial. Then I thought of him during my childhood years when he was very visible and alive to me. I thought about his life and everything associated with it. I remembered his last words as he was leaving the apartment on his way to the train station for the trip back to the PHilippines. He uttered an “I love you ,van.” I smiled as I hugged him, but I couldn't give him the same reply he wanted to hear.

 And just as these thoughts were going through my mind, tears started to flow, first in trickles and then I broke down into grueling sobs like a wounded child. I cried not because I had lost a father, who is in a better place now than I am. It was more on the realization of what an egocentric person I had become. I was empowered by my own selfish desire of wanting my own father to beg for my forgiveness for being an absentee dad. I was held down by my own ideals of my own righteousness. It was all about me.

 Life does not come without its flaws, including the choices we make. There are no wrong choices in this world, there are only consequences of those choices. By accepting all that has happened, and releasing them is a step towards recovery. As Paul Boese says, “Forgiveness does not change the past, but it enlarges the future.” 

 My dad will be laid to rest today, so I am told. I imagine myself being transported back in time as a little girl. I look out of the window waiting anxiously for my dad to come home, but he never does. Then, I remembered what he told me two years ago about life, then I understand. It is part of death. And as I bend my head down, I release a whisper, “I'm sorry for waiting dad. But that's okay, I'm all grown up now, I can take care of myself. You have your rest. Goodbye, Dad!”

Of Politics and Sex

The political atmosphere in Paquiao land is getting into full gear what with a few more weeks before election day. Presidential candidates who are sliding in the polls are resorting to black propaganda just to win back which really was never theirs in the first place.

Time and again, we have been told to vote “Wisely”...But time and again, even if the ideal candidate wins, they will be absorbed in the zarzuela of what we call politics. Where the actor makes the rules, and the politicians act them out for entertaining.

But who are we to know the face of “Wisely” and how can we discern his sincerity. Even the learned and knowledgeable would have difficulty to choose the right candidate, because appealing to which authority on best to follow, is really tricky.

The problem here does not lie on the candidate, but on what the candidate would say that will make us happy on what they would say. Like this joke: IS SEX WORK OR PLAY?

A man wonders if having sex on the Sabbath is a sin, because he is not sure if sex is work or play. So he goes to a priest and asks his opinion.
After consulting church teachings, the priest says, “My son, after an exhaustive search, I have concluded that sex is work and is therefore contrary to the commandment to rest from your labor on the Sabbath.”
But the man thinks, Is a celibate priest really the best authority on sex? So he goes to see a married minister. The minister consults the bible and reaches the same conclusion: SEX is work and therefore not permitted on the Sabbath.
Not pleased with the reply, the man turns to another authority: a rabbi. The rabbi ponders the question briefly and says, “My son, sex is definitely play.”
The delighted man replies, “Rabbi, that's wonderful news, but tell me, how can you be so sure when so many others tell me sex is work?”
The rabbi answers, “If sex were work, my wife would have the maid do it.”


We all have choices this coming May for the leader we want....But, don't feel bad if your own candidate wont make it...Like the saying goes, “there are no mistakes...just consequences.”

Of Birthdays and Facebook

What is the significance of blowing birthday candles that corresponds to your current age? Tradition says that by blowing, you release the smoke to the skies for the 'gods' to grant your wishes.

If they are right in their thinking, then I might as well broaden the ritual and not limit it to birthdays. Like, when I'd fry food in the apartment, and light several candles to camouflage the after effects of frying then I could make more wishes. Now that's what I call increasing the bets...

Now, on the other hand, if wishes on birthdays are longer than the smoke that a candle can handle, then it would be practical to use an incense stick so the flow of smoke is continuous and the flow of several requests are also ceaseless....

Oh and talking about birthday cakes...I am suspect to eating a cake with candles that were blown by a celebrant. Why?...the germs, hija...you just never know. And imagine if it was a trick candle wherein you blow it once, it lights up again, and you have to blow again and again and again.....Gosh! Before you know it, the celebrant's saliva is all over....So this year, no cake for me, even if it was my own drool that is involved...yukkk!...gross!!!

Waking up to the long list of well wishers on my birthday is such a pleasant....and yes, I mean a pleasant surprise. Those that think facebook is a waste of time don't realize the fun they are missing. The things that people do are just what makes them 'compos mentis' in this insane world.

So what if you're telling the world you're drinking orange juice at the moment, or in the airport waiting for your flight? So what, if you're eating cebu inasal lechon and showing pictures of it. Who cares if after 15 years you suddenly paste your picture to show your balding hair or that your bulging bilibilations are parallel to your boobs. As Bing Cosby says, Middle age is when your classmates don't recognize you anymore....So what?!!!

Facebook is just one of those programs that get you in touch with the world and reconnect with friends from your past. It can also make your fantasy virtually real. Such as being an haciendero in farmville, or a villain in those war games. It can make you word savy in scrabble or a super secretary in typing maniac. Whatever you want to be, even for a moment, is just a touch of your fingertips.

And to many who uplifts you with scriptures, phrases and quotes from everywhere I leave you with a part of a dialogue from a christian friend I met at Union Square- c.s. Black's Inherit the Mirth:

Jesus: Come, follow me.
Simon: You mean on Twitter?
Jesus: No. Just follow me. I’ll be your Lord, your Savior, your Friend.
Simon: Friend? We’d better make it official on Facebook.
Jesus: Look, I simply ask you this: Do you want to live life to the fullest and help reveal the kingdom of God to the lost sheep of Israel?
Simon: Sounds cool! Is there an app for that?

All this new technology can be wonderful. It’s making our lives better in numerous ways. But sometimes I think Ralph Waldo Emerson was right: “Things are in the saddle and ride mankind.”

agree...agree...agree.

Thanks again to the many people who have greeted me on my special day.

oh and by the way, people are asking me for my age....I am very consistent...I am 38, and if you ask me next year, I will still be consistent at 38.



this is the only dish i made during my birthday...Bacon Crusted Meatloaf....see my grandaughter in the background...she loved my dish as well