My first Knowell

I sometimes ask myself how much longer I can keep up with the Thursday visits, especially when bad news hits you like the update we got this morning from Cynthia the Kythe coordinator. My friend Knowell Placero, my smiling friend who loved posing for my camera in his trademark 'feeling guapo' style.. who I promised - TWICE at that - that I would print out and give him his pictures, finally left us. I was unable to do my visits early February. He died February 8, the day after Chinese New Year. I thought all the while he looked healthy and was getting better, but then they said the added weight was a result of the steroids. I never sent him all those pictures I took of him, I kept postponing, I kept telling myself I'd save them in a CD and bring them to Kameraworld in Shang Mall but I never got around to doing it. He asked for them and I promised him, and I never did it. I am posing your pictures here now, Knowell. I bid you farewell my friend, you're in a much happier place now and you can keep on smiling your big sunshiny smile the way I will always remember you.

I - HEART - DRIVING

Yes, I love it. You can make me drive all the way to Tagaytay and back, lagari, everyday. Driving for me now is such a relaxing activity, almost Zen like; the half hour behind the wheel in the morning and another half hour in the evening are my quiet times of thought and meditation. Yesterday as I snapped out of my faux (or kunwa- kunwariang) trance, I got a bit disoriented - I didn't know which side of Pasig River I was on - the JP Rizal side or the side after Mandaluyong bridge. Both look so alike!

What I'm trying to say is - it is simply incredible how smooth my engine runs, I DO NOT remember ever having driven it like this before. Maybe that was a long time ago when it was brand new. But what that SWAT team on Connecticut street did last month was something close to a miracle. Honestly, I find myself having to blow my horn a lot now -- at pedestrians. My car is so quiet that on busy streets, these bagay-mag-pasyal-sa-luneta pedestrians don't know that I'm just an inch away from their butt or hip or shoulder (for pandaks) so I have to HONK HONK!!

So...once more...with feeling - I HEART DRIVING. Click and check out the blog entry I finally completed.

Brothers and Sisters

With our impending move to a much smaller house, I've started the herculean task of cleaning out all the accumulated junk, mementos, odds & ends, and white elephants in my closets ... And in the middle of everything last weekend, I found this note written by Luis some 11 or 12 years ago about his big sister Ate Nikki. Nagsusumbong.

Those were the days of our lives

My new idol, Freddie Mercury, from the group Queen. Kaso he's dead na. This is from 1991. Just listen to the words, nakakaiyak, perfect for matanda people who've been through a lot, like moi. "...the days were endless, we were crazy, we were young..".



This video was filmed on May 30, 1991. It was Mercury's last filmed performance, as he died of AIDS on November 24th of that year. He knew he was going to die soon when he recorded this and did not tell the public about his disease until shortly before he died.

For cleansing or 'detox'

Posting this here. later na I'll explain.

POTASSIUM ESSENCE BROTH

If you don't have a juicer, make a potassium broth in a soup pot. While not as concentrated or pure, it is still an excellent source of energy, minerals and electrolytes.
For a 2 day supply: Cover with water in a soup pot 3 to 4 Carrots, 3 Stalks Celery, 1/2 Bunch Parsley, 2 Potatoes with skins, 1/2 Head Cabbage, 1 Onion, and 1/2 Bunch Broccoli.
Simmer covered 30 minutes. Strain and discard solids.
Add 2 teasp. Bragg Liquid Aminos or 1 teasp. Miso. Store in the fridge, covered.

Cozy cousins

me, Peachy, Johay and Ichi

I had a very relaxing evening the other night as cousins Peachy, Ichi, Johay and I held our bi-annual (meaning - because kuno of our super hectic superstar superdiva schedules, we see one another only twice a year - when balikbayan cousin Johay is in town) girls night out at this very homey pinoy resto in Greenbelt 5, Fely J's. Yes it was a very relaxing and hilarious conversation among four female cousins hanging on to their forties by a thread or two (or three, sige na nga!). As we were touching up after dinner (complete with kurlash) in prep for our bi-annual photo ops turista style to be taken by the waiter, somebody made a very interesting remark. This was after we had spent a few seconds people watching and noticing men of varied shapes, sizes and vintage. Do you realize, one of us said, wala na tayong karapatan to call any man a DOM dahil kasing edad na natin sila?* Now THAT is just about the scariest remark I have heard ever since I crossed over to the upper side of forty. We all agreed. These men are just one or two multiples of five away, they are OUR generation! The ones we had all the karapatan to call DOMs are now in Manila Memorial Park, if not in some hospital bed lying incontinent and harmless. Scary scary SCARY! This was all the justification we needed to walk over to Cafe Damaso to gorge on very sinful desserts and pretend we were still twenty five (age and waistline).


* translation - we have absolutely NO RIGHT to call any living man now a Dirty Old Man since they are about as old as we are!

Longing for Luxor

My commitment when I started this blog was that it would be a happy blog, and thus far I have never written anything to merit a tear or anybody's sympathy. However once in a great great while - such as now - I feel compelled to write about something sad. But the sad (or funny) part about it is that it doesn't even concern a person. Nothing romantic or tragic. No deep angst or emotion. No cheating by a lover or unrequited love. No suicidal urges. It is simply about a place. A thing. Four walls. A house. I've grown accustomed to this house.

I live in a spacious high-ceilinged three-story 3-bedroom/5-bathroom (one for each room plus the guest and the servants') / 1 maid's room/1 drivers quarters(which we converted into a bodega or storage room) /1 roof deck /1 medium sized kitchen / 1 reception cum ante-living room area / 1 spacious living room and dining room Townhouse. (My unit is the one next to the unit with the white car in the driveway photo below.) I am one among ten townhouses nestled cozily amidst the woody tree-filled area beside White Cross Children's Orphanage. I call it luxurious luxor. The name is Luxor Villas. It has been a villa of peace and luxury for us. Located right beside the main road - BUT secluded enough in the sense that you would need to go down a long long driveway in order to reach us (click on this google earth image to enlarge). You don't even see us from the road, all you see is a tall peach gate manned by either Mang Rene or the security guard on duty. I hear the orphan kids either laughing and playing or howling and crying when I have my breakfast in the mornings, since at the back of my unit is the tall concrete wall overlooking their nursery. I hear cocks crowing as the sun rises, just like in the province! I hear my gay neighbor Pocholo screaming at his maids, I hear my neighbor's spoiled little girl whining next door. These have been the sounds of my home the past four years.

As the end of my contract approaches (with my contrabidang landlord not willing to extend), I am frantically looking for a replacement. Most that I've seen fall short in comparison, and the few that come close are twice as expensive. Daughter Nikki says that's because our Luxor is a 'fluke'. The broker must have made a mistake in the price four years ago and never corrected it, or my landlord probably didn't care about the potential income lost when he priced it WAY below market value. Whatever it was, I was lucky to get this piece of spacious heaven at rental that I simply CAN'T find anywhere else, something that will probably now just get me a studio in Boni or an up & down in Lot xxx Block xxx Barangay xyz.

And so as we spend our last few days here, I linger just a few seconds longer in each area of my house as I go about my daily routine, I stroke the banisters slowly as I go up the stairs, I breathe the fresh air on my roofdeck, I recline on the sofa in my living room and my heart takes a picture of every corner, every wall. I love, I lust for, I'm longing for Luxor.

Code Red

What else could one expect? In keeping with tradition, our office family of simple joys (and simple minds) donned RED on Valentine's and had a blast posing for this very cheesy theme, complete with toy bears, baduy hearts and long stemmed roses. That's Sunday perched on top of the ladder, and from left to right - Princess, May, Eliza and moi. Not content with that, we e-mail blasted the entire Midland Buendia Bldg attaching our group pics and wishing our co-workaholics and "stress mates" a heart-y, heart-ful, happy Valentine's!!




























That kinakalawang steel ladder is always part of any shoot in our office ...

check this out: White is right

V day

Every mother experiences Valentine surprises -- a normal yearly thing ... be it from their cute little devils who make crude handmade cards with their lagpas lagpas drawings to their grown up young men who send them gigantic bouquets as thank you for all those back breaking, nerve rattling years... Well, my in-between/not kid /not adult/ young /but feeling old teenager still managed to surprise me today. I spent the day thinking that at 17, he had grown jaded like a middle aged man. With a "bah-humbug!" tone early in the morning as I drove him to school this morning, he said he found the whole valentine idea "cheesy". End of story. Nope, no card, no greeting, no nothing. I thought to myself, yeah, maybe this is what happens in the end as boys grow up, they just forget about their poky old moms. I thought about all those sweet, crudely made cards year after year, the hugs and the sweetness, and felt a pang of...nostalgia? I got home from the office, it was the usual 'hi mom' greeting, but no card. I went upstairs to my bedroom, glanced at my dressing table, computer table... still no card. Well, I decided to just forget about it and get ready for bed, me, the poky old mom. And guess what - I saw it! a sweet, crudely made valentine card from my very practical son -- attached to the shelf at eye level in the bathroom right infront of the TOILET SEAT.

Absolutely horrifying!

Sis-in-law Mel sent me this horrifying piece from Good Housekeeping circa May 1955... Apparently this has been doing the rounds over the internet and has sown world wide terror amidst the hearts of the women of the 21st century. CLICK to enlarge.

Memorable photos

Joel my friend from Bulletin finally sent me photos from last Saturday! ... Posted them two entries down... "From presidents to cabdrivers"

EUREKA!!

I had a eureka moment over the weekend. "I FOUND HIM! Where has he been all my life?"

"Him" here refers to a place - a SHOP - actually, a CAR REPAIR SHOP. Where has this shop been all through my car's life and its many near-death experiences? It was the same feeling I had when I finally found the perfect dentist for my root canals or pedicurista for my in-growns, and swore undying loyalty on the spot.

I thought my 18 year old car had sputtered its last breath last Friday when it suddenly died in my arms without warning. The classic 'TUMIRIK' situation - the nightmare of any female driver, the quick plunge into that dark world with the foreign sounding language -- where scary words like ignition coils, cylinder heads, clutch cables and oil seals abound. After I did some mental exercise and reviewed my options, I thought it best to take a leap of faith and entrust my dying car to a man named "Joemer". It so happened that for many months now, Joemer, one of the trainors in my gym, had actively been promoting his car repair shop to me, but for some reason it was the classic case of I-can't-break-up-with- my-boyfriend-of-15-years- syndrome -- I just couldn't, simply couldn't say goodbye to "Oasis" - my talyer for more than a decade.. Oh so many memories - this band of merry little men was there during the many instances my car would break down at odd hours... timing belt that snapped at midnight along Ortigas (good thing I had the presence of mind to glide it towards the Lasalle gate), battery that conked out amidst torrential rains outside Santuario de San Antonio, engine that died for no reason at all right after the Shaw Blvd underpass (timing belt again. TWICE in a span of three years, why kaya), simple flat tire inside Valle Verde 6 at 10pm (Ryan came to me, reeking pa of pabango! sweet guy. He had obviously splashed himself with it when my frantic call came in. By the way, he's a stock clerk, not a mechanic. Those Oasis guys got tired of sending me real mechanics at some point I think.). The list goes on. Melchor, Jerson, Ding, Jason... All of them had had their hand at my car and I honestly believe they were sick and tired of it. No, of ME. In fact whenever they saw my car coming back for yet another complaint (on a monthly basis, without fail) -- pumapalya, nag-ooverheat, parang may "sound", and so on, from afar I could already see the smirk on their faces as they shoved one another to be the one this time. Yes, indeed it was time for me to make a clean break from this relationship gone sour....

Enter Joemer's team.. a new band of no-nonsense men who swooped down on my car like a SWAT team. The whole process took close to a week, as they undid all the bad stuff the merry men had been inflicting on my car for years! What I really appreciated was the way Joemer himself would take pains to avoid the usual car gobbledy gook jargon and resort to simple baby-talk (or woman talk?) analogies like... "just imagine a garden hose riddled with holes so the water can't pass thru smoothly"(telling me why my high tension wires weren't conducting electricty properly).. OR .. "it's like a one year old trying to blow out all the candles on his cake" (some nut in the past had replaced my original auxiliary fan with a much much smaller fan, the type used for aircons, that's why my car kept over heating because nga, the fan was too small, like a one year old kid). He very patiently showed me each and every part that had to be replaced and calmly explained why. For example - and this is just one among many - he pointed out all the cracks and frayed edges of the poor quality timing belt which the merry men had just installed last year (it would have snapped a THIRD time this year!).

My car is now back with me, and has never run better. I still have to pinch myself to make sure it isn't a dream; I love the way the engine just purrs and runs as smooth as a new car! Problems of pumapalya, nag-ooverheat, ayaw-mag-start, humahatak -- all these are a thing of the past. It is unbelievable how this old jalopy has come back to life, all thanks to that SWAT team by the corner of EDSA and Connecticut street. A million, gazillion thanks to my new hero "Joemer"! Let me type out his full name here so in case somebody googles him , it leads to this entry: Joemer de Leon. That's him, folks, look for him at the Petron Service Station on Connecticut corner EDSA if your dying fit-for-the-ICU car needs a new lease on life.

Bag lady

No this is NOT the head of the marketing communications department. This is probably some contractual clerk/data encoder who went crazy encoding the whole day and decided to live out some fantasy mow-delling moments...

From presidents to cabdrivers

It was the cocktail party to end all cocktail parties, and for once NOT a trace of the fashionista, party hopping, 'it' girls and 'it' boys, posing-by-the-logo-wall and smiling-for-Alex kind of crowd, ... JUST the likes of - ahem - President GMA and her cabinet members, senators and congressmen, the diplomatic corp, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court along with a tropa of judges and justices galore, former presidents Cory Aquino, Fidel Ramos, and a host of others, if you get the drift... I was at my poise-est best of course although I must say alighting from a dilapidated taxi cab onto the red carpet amidst the flash of a hundred million bulbs was a wee bit off. You see my car, true to form, made tirik YET AGAIN last Friday and had to be towed from Makati all the way to the shop in Mandaluyong. But that is another story for another blog entry. Yesterday, Saturday, having no other alternative, I had to hail a cab to take me in all my cocktail dress finery to the heart of Intramuros where the 108th anniversary of Manila Bulletin was being celebrated.

And so the evening wore on as I exchanged pleasantries with this refreshingly different sort of crowd, the geriatric society looking men, and the women who called me "hija"... Some of them were judges, some were deans of colleges from notable universities, some were the chapter presidents of this and that association, having retired from their real jobs decades ago . "HIJA"!!!?? It's been AGES since anybody called me that .. me... this forty plus (as in plus plus plus) matronly me... suddenly felt young again when the lady from the Board of Regents of Chaing Kai Shek College turned to me and asked in a very soft motherly manner "And what do you do, hija?" When I mentioned the Rustan's group, she and the rest started reminiscing about the San Marcelino days!

Highlight of my evening - Joel Ontong (a young gay fashion stylist, my favorite person in all of Bulletin) and I had a blast posing for photo-ops with President Ramos - one on each side, we linked our arms thru his, and then the three of us made a thumbs up sign, as Joel and I posed nangangampanya style. Of course we were more demure with Senator Mar Roxas who we found so handsome especially when he extended his hand and in his deep guapo voice said "Hi! I'm Mar."
I died.

Going home. Problem number 1: I had to hail a cab from SOMEWHERE. Number 2: Those guys at the lobby couldn't help me because Pres. Arroyo's car was still parked at the driveway and taxicabs were absolutely OFFLIMITS in the area. (This was at Muralla cor. Recoletos Street, way inside Intramuros. The Bulletin office. ) Number 3: My feet were killing me after standing for two hours in four inch heels, and no way was I going to walk to 'doon sa rotunda' where they said I could easily grab a cab.

Well, prayers ALWAYS work, and before I knew it, I had actually struck up a conversation with two kindhearted guests who happened to be going home to Quezon City. They dropped me off at the very busy corner of Timog Avenue and Quezon Boulevard. So there I was, standing all alone on this busy intersection in my spaghetti strap evening dress and high heels, waving frantically at cab drivers on a Saturday night...

From presidents to cab drivers...what an exciting life!

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The legend of Mariang Alimango

Michael Perico's favorite color is yellow. His wishlist included a set of crayons, but it could very well have been a set of YELLOW crayons. He grabbed the coloring book I brought and proceeded to shade everything bright yellow...the leaves of the trees, the petals, the bee. Michael is a cute 4-year old boy with dark eyes and the longest lashes, cute dimples and a sunshiny smile. He has ALL (acute lymphoblastic leukemia).

9 year old Cassandra Capispisan, also with leukemia, listened intently to the story book I read to her in TAGALOG, and was enthralled by the legend of MARIANG ALIMANGO, a story about an orphan girl and the magical giant crab that granted her wishes. It was fun dramatizing the important scenes, from the facial expressions of the sungit step mom and step sisters, to the losing of the shoe as Maria rushed out of the palace at midnight, to the dramatic fitting of the shoe by everyone in the family and finally by Maria. By coincidence, Cassandra had a bridal doll from last week's visit - in full wedding gear, with veil and tiny white shoes! So as I held the tiny white shoe dramatically, she was in total awe and absolutely delighted when i tried fitting it onto her big toe to check if she had a chance with the prince!

Marl's another cute one. That's Marl Antonio Villareal, 5 years old, surrounded by colorful pillows. His limbs, actually his knee caps, are very very painful. Every few minutes he would moan to his mommy who was at his bedside to massage his legs. Very painful limbs are one of the symptoms of ALL. He is due for his first round of chemo soon.

Jessica Rebusion is almost a lady...but not quite...at 14, lying on the bed, she still looked like a helpless little girl. No toys for her please. All things showbiz - yes. When I mentioned I might be able to send her a showbiz magazine or two, her eyes lit up, as her mom said she was an avid fan of Sarah Geronimo.

And finally Rexon. Rexon Endaya from my visit last October!! I felt good when he recognized me, and I recognized him too, as -- the number one jigsaw puzzle maker! It was so heartening to learn from his mom that he was much better now. That's him beaming happily, in the bright orange shirt.

And thus concludes another Thursday morning at Kythe. How I wish I could give each of these kids a magical Mariang Alimango that would grant them their wishes, make Jessica an actress, Cassandra a princess, and the boys - boys who could spend the day flying kites or even just fighting with other boys!

Check these out:
What is Kythe?
Kythe Volunteers' Experiences (click on the three No Roses articles. They're mine!!)


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