Memoirs 8

I was tagged by the lovely, sexy, svelte, demure and beautiful Nona, and here it is my memes.

The Rules:

Each person posts the rules before their list, then list 8 things about themselves. At the end of the post, that person tags and links to 8 other people; visits said people's sites and comments letting them know that they have been tagged; and to come read the posts, so they know what they have to do.

Here goes:

Click picture to enlarge.

1. I was the last to be born. I am not spoiled, contrary to belief that the youngest are always pampered.


2. At age 13 my eyesight began to fail. I had a hard time reading the board, and I was forced to wear eyeglasses.

3. I love to draw, but have not pursued art as my career having been discouraged by my mother that I'll starve if I do so. I took something else, but I'm starving just the same.
4. I was 9 or 10 years old when I had pneumonia and I was sick for a long time. On the way to recovery, my knees were so weak I had to learn how to walk all over again. I laughed each time I fall. When I got better, my brother taught me how to ride a bike (click here for me and my bike) and roller skate. (Sniff...sniff...brother passed on 5 years ago.)

5. I am not a morning person. I hate waking up early; in fact I don't remember my mom waking me up when I was little. I guess that's where she spoiled me.

6. Some of my dreams are scary. Some of them would come true, and at times it would be about someone passing on. In one of my dreams I would be sitting at a chapel at a wake, and a week later someone I know would die. Then I'd go to the wake and I'd be sitting there in the chapel--exact same spot in my dream.

7. I am a very private person, hence there's nothing in my profile. As of now, however, I've bared myself to all...somewhat. LOL

8. It takes a while for me to make friends. I'm just too shy, I guess.

Now I'm free. Since most of the bloggers I know have been tagged already, I'll leave it up to anyone who passes by to write his/her own 8 memes, or 10, or 12. You can write as many as you want, the more the better. Paramihan at pahabaan. LOL

As for the rules, it would be up to the writer to tag or not to tag.

Let the memes begin?

Rolly polly fish heads...

My tanker truck.

Normally when I shop for my groceries at the Seafood City Market -- 25 miles away -- I bring a tanker truck. Well, not really a tanker truck, that's an exaggeration, but I and my husband, buy a lot since we drive that far for our supply. We get a lot of seafood like bangus, pompano, tilapia, shrimps, catfish, and etc. Last weekend, however, we stayed away from tilapia, shrimps and catfish as most of these come from China. Although the importation of these (from China) have already been blocked by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) we'd rather not get any. It's best to be safe than eat fish loaded with whatever they found in those seafood. Click here and here for more.

"My trip is canceled?"

Now all seafood at the store were marked the country of origin; wild caught or farm raised. I never knew before that they come from countries like Vietnam, Mexico, Chile, Peru, Indonesia, India, Singapore, Philippines and Taiwan. Some are US products. Mussels that I usually get come from New Zealand marked clearly on the package.

I wandered to the dry goods area to get a pack of Shiitake mushrooms (dried), and lo and behold, it's from...you know...and all brands. I'm not sure about it anymore, so I passed it. I'm not going to use any Shiitake for now.

The veggies I supposed are mostly local. If not it probably did not come from that far. There were some things I bought that were Philippine products...jars of halo-halo mix - kaong, makapuno, munggo beans, white beans and langka.

Halo-halo would be great to cool us off these hot...hot summer days.

Cute

This cute little girl is so fun to watch. I don't know what language the song is, but it doesn't matter...she's just so cute. She does all the hand gestures, and facial expressions. She would make a good singer someday.

CRASH!!!!

While watching TV last night I heard a loud thud outside. I went to investigate and I found a bird on the ground lying on its side. It hit the glass wall of the house. The poor little thing was knocked out cold. Its left eye was closed as it had hit the wall the most.

I picked it up; put it on the patio table and gave it some water. It sat there motionless, but now conscious. My husband suggested sprinkling it with water to waken it up. I did that with a spray bottle, but it just sat there. I left it for a while, and then when I came back I found it had vomited.

It was getting late, soon it will get dark and I'm afraid that if it's still unable to fly, a raccoon, or a cat would get to it and...gulp...eats it up. Poor thing, it would be defenseless, a sitting duck to all those predators.

Okay, little bird, here's my phone and call your mom.
It's getting late and you're not home yet. She's now worried.

I took a wicker basket to put it in; to hang it up at one of the pergola beams so it would be out of reach of a prowler. Perhaps by tomorrow morning it would feel much better, regain its strength and it could fly. When I picked it up it started to struggle; it walked a bit. I put it back in the basket, but it hopped and walked to the edge of the table. When I turned my back it was gone. It had managed to fly...and I just hope it's strong enough to get away from those predators lurking in my backyard.

Still Sizzling...

We had another scorching day today here in Southern California. The temperature hit over 100 degrees Fahrenheit; it was 90 degrees in the shade by late afternoon. This went on with other states east of California, i.e., Nevada, Utah, Idaho and Arizona. We were asked to conserve energy to prevent power outage that would lead to rolling black outs. Mostly I stayed downstairs where it was much cooler. I have taken one of my easels down to the game room so I can do a little bit of painting. But the heat was unbearable, I didn't feel like doing anything. A little exertion of effort was so tiring it was best to stay motionless.

How I wish I could lounge in a hammock by the seaside and read a good book; drink ice cold buko and lull myself to sleep. Aah, dream on.

*************************

My husband and I had gone to Redondo Beach, a 50 miles drive down south, last Saturday. It was cool there. The breeze coming from the ocean was so refreshing. After having lunch we took a walk at the pier and watched people fish; fish were not biting. We walked down to the boardwalk and stopped by the ice cream place and we had our usual one scoop ice cream which we shared. The young fellow who usually serves us wasn't there. He quit and went back to school. He knew me already and always had an extra cup, spoon and napkin for me. Two ladies took his place: a mother and her daughter. After we finished our ice cream we headed to our car and drove back to our hot, hot, hot place, near the desert.

Fish were not biting.
The beach was crowded with people cooling off from the heat.

A family filleting their catch.

At the upper level, we watched people stroll the boardwalk.

A boat with a very familiar name.

*************************

Right now, I feel like dipping in a pool. I wouldn't care if I get toasty brown...aarrgh, it's just too darn hot. When is this going to end?

Sizzle...sizzle...sizzle

We are sizzling here. This was how hot it was, 92 degrees Fahrenheit and this was at 11 AM on June 22nd. I was on my way to do some shopping and boy, was it hot already. By 2 PM, we were burning. This was not the only day it was this hot. It's been like this for days now and to this day...this very moment. There would be times the breeze would be warm as well. The only relief we would have is to duck in an air conditioned building, dive in a swimming pool or head to the beach. I would take option number 1 (one) as I'm already medium dark and can't take anymore darkness in me. That would only show my eyes as the only white, or my teeth when I open my mouth. It would make my 2 big front teeth show all the more, just like Bugs Bunny. People would start calling me and say, "What's up doc?"

Good thing, if it's a good thing, is humidity is almost zero. Sweating is to a minimum; unless one has to do some physical work that would encourage sweating, like yard work...aaargh. No way, Jose. It must be horrendous for those people who have to work outdoors.

Note: 92 degrees Fahrenheit is 33.33 degrees Celsius. The formula being: 92 - 32 (a constant number) x 5 / 9 = degrees in Celsius. The formula was easy I never realized that until now. This was Greek to me when I was in school. It seemed anything that has to do with math would automatically shut down my brain cells then. I suppose it was my paranoia of math. Does this means I have finally grown up, matured, after all this years? Hah!

Horror of horrors!

I was talking to my friend, on the phone, this morning when a mother hummingbird flew by. It passed by my window so I followed it towards my kitchen to see if she's going to feed her 2 little chicks lying in the nest. To my horror the nest is gone! The mother hummingbird was hovering around where it used to be; flew beside and under it; pecked on a seashell, and then flew away. She must be wondering what happened to the nest and her little ones.

The chicks with their tiny beaks sticking out of the nest.

This nest has been built by a hummingbird sometime in 2003. And every 2 years another or perhaps the same hummingbird comes back; renovates it, and lay eggs--usually 2. We at home kept track of the activity of the mother hen and watched the progress of the chicks. With excitement we would watch the mother as she feeds them, thrusting her long beak into her chicks' open mouths. There would come a time when she doesn't sit in the nest anymore, but would come every few hours to feed them. We watched the activity through our kitchen window as the nest was only 10 or 15 feet away, hanging on the trellis beam. The nest was built on my parol made of seashells.

The parol with the nest gone.
Photo taken from my kitchen window.

I went to the patio and found the nest laying flat on the concrete slab floor. Some seashells were strewn on the floor; the chicks gone, perhaps eaten by whatever attacked it. I felt so bad, feeling the pain of a mother losing her young ones. How could this have happened? In the past the chicks made it through, they flew away when they were strong enough. We have moved the ladder, which we used to take a peek at the eggs, away from the nest so it would be safe from any predator. Looking around, investigating I saw a broom stick I left at the other side of the wall, and it was slanted somehow. The culprit must have walked up the broom handle (a pole about 1 1/2" in diameter) alongside the wall and pawed on the nest until it fell to the floor. I felt so guilty, that I was responsible for the demise of the little hummers. Ooohhh...guilt...guilt...guilt.

Mother hen mourning her loss.

After about an hour or so mother hen came back. She landed on the parol and she was hunched, she was mourning the loss of her little ones.

All that was left of the nest was this...witness to the killing.

Sigh.

Fortune Cookie Says

"As you slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never
point your way."

Ouch, ouch. That would hurt a lot, I tell you. But it's true. At one time or another we get those splinters. Some of us may get so much of it, while others would hardly feel the pain. That was in my fortune cookie at lunch. We had lunch at a Chinese Buffet. There we pigged out. At least, I think I did, but as soon as I got home, I'm hungry again.

We fired the grill in the evening and tossed the steak, pork, potatoes and tomatoes in it. Eddie said he was going to do the cooking, but he ended up chatting with his dad. LOL The steak almost got overdone it was like jerky, but it was good. I did the pork and wow, was I a good cook. He he he I steamed some green beans and corn; warmed up some rice, but no one ate it. It's now 12:15 AM and as I am writing this, I'm getting hungry again.

By late evening Eddie said, "Happy Father's Day, dad," and gave him a big hug.

*******************************************

"With integrity and consistency, your credits are piling up."

I don't know what this really means. Credits as in debit and credit? My brain is not trained to manage accounting and its complicated numbers. I took high maths in college, and I almost failed in some of them, but that must've been the wake up call, when I was on the verge of failing. I focused on my mechanics class; grabbed every guy by the collar to teach me, tutor me. And when I was exempted from my finals my friends were all surprised...their mouths dropped open. LOL "Hey, I'm not thinking of parties and boys all the time." Naman. It was smooth sailing with my other math classes after that. The guys even asked me how I solved a problem in our quiz, I compared notes with them. Hah!

Now if it's credit as in utang. That I can understand. I have statements after statements coming every month, that I don't know how to pay them. "Want to buy a painting, people?" Pambayad ng utang.

If it means I have good credit...good. I can use my Visa and Master Card to buy all the things I want. Then I'm deep in debt. Aargh! Never mind. I'll stay poor and recycle my old clothes.

*************************************************

"Finally, it is accepted as self-evident."

Whaaat? Wakanga!

Just Playing

I haven't done much lately. The oil painting I've started about this time last year is still unfinished. And while I was working on it about 2 weeks ago, I thought I'd start another one while the other older one is drying. Well, now I think I like the last painting I'm working on. So, today I worked on it again, abandoning the older one. Hah! I love the way it's turning out. This painting is again flowers. I did two paintings of red hibiscus (gumamela) which is a very common color. Again this one is hibiscus but it's yellow-orange with violet and crimson. I took the picture of this flower when my art class had a field trip at the Descanso Gardens sometime in 2005. I go for originality nowadays. If I paint it's something that I took a picture of not copied from postcards, magazines and other paintings. I want to be more creative...if I can. LOL

Since I bought a small pack of markers--10 or 12 colors--I started sketching, loving it as I run the tips on paper; as colors explode, mingle and take shape. I did another small drawing of trees and whatever I could think of putting on paper...just what comes to my mind. This one below is a combination of watercolor (for sky) and markers.

8 1/2" x 11" PAPER
MARKERS AND WATERCOLOR
Click on photo to enlarge.

...And The Next Day

I got out of bed a bit later than yesterday (Tuesday) morning; had a very light breakfast of raisin bread toast, again. Didn't have coffee as it is a diuretic and I don't want to make a lot of trips to the bathroom. Traffic was lighter at this time of day, 9:00 AM. I got there about 9:30. I went straight to the 3rd floor. There were about 5 people there already waiting at the corridor. There was one of the ladies I was talking to yesterday and I sat by her. By 10:15, the time we were all to be there, the corridor was full of jurors already. We were all wearing our badges...and were waiting...and waiting again. By 10:30 the court clerk came out of the courtroom and talked to us. There is negotiation going on, he said. And we still have to wait for a few more minutes. So, we waited again, passing the time away by chatting with other prospective jurors. By 11:00 he came out again. They have reached a common ground - a plea bargain. We are no longer needed...we are free. Yippeeeee!!!! He called each our juror numbers, to make sure all were in attendance, and we were to go back down to the jury assembly room. So, we filed to the elevator down to the assembly room once more. We surrendered our badges, and we waited again until a staff came out with some papers. She explained that these papers were certification of our presence in court. We are to present one copy to our employer, for those who are employed, and one copy we keep. It is good for 12 months; we are not to be summoned to court again until after 12 months is over. But in case they do, we are to present them our copy of the certificate.

The first guy who was called to get his certificate was so happy he jumped to his feet and ran to get his paper. We all applauded him. Everyone was in good spirit already. And why not?...we are now free to go. No one there wanted to go back to work the rest of the day. There is still half of the day to play truant. They are paid by the company they work for just the same, why bother. Everyone went home happy.

The Dreaded Day

I was at the courthouse at 7:50 in the morning; went through security, just like at airports, without any hitch. There were already a handful of people waiting by the jury assembly room, which at this time was still locked. In a few minutes one of the staff came to open the door and we all walked in. I took one of the second row seats...I don't like sitting in the front row. It must have something to do when I was in school, where I don't want the teacher to see me right away.

We were supposed to be there at no later than 8:15 AM. So, there we were sitting, waiting for our fate. By 8:30 the guy next to me started complaining. He wasn't happy to be there, he has other things to do, he said. Sure. I'm not happy either, but I don't want to be fined $1,500.00 for not showing up. The guy left for a while to get something to eat. Me, I didn't have a decent breakfast. I tried eating 1 1/2 piece of raisin bread toast, but I couldn't eat most of it, though I tried stuffing them in my mouth. They were tasteless. A little before 9:00 a staff showed up and welcomed all of us unwilling participants. She explained everything to us, though most of it was in the handbook, but she did it more detailed, down to the places where we could get our lunch, enumerating the names and at which corner we could find them. A judge came to the room to welcome us and gave us a pep talk. He sounded and talked just like Robert Shapiro. He understood how we felt about the whole thing, but he reminded us that it is what makes this country great; that it is our moral duty to participate in the justice system; that if we try to dodge it and go to another state, it is the same; and the only way to escape from it is not to be here in this country. He said further that we are all immigrants or of immigrant ancestry.

After all that talk, we were given our badge holders, handbooks, parking permits, and we surrendered our summons. We were instructed to wear our badges at all times, visibly on our chest, in any part of the building. It's a way for the lawyers to identify us as jurors. The reason for that is there are times the lawyers discuss cases out of the courtroom and they are not supposed to let jurors hear them. So, if they see a juror nearby them they quit discussing the case. If a juror happens to hear them the case will be dismissed. All cases in the courthouse are criminal in nature. Civil cases are heard in another jurisdiction.

When all was said and done, we waited...and waited...and waited. It was getting close to 12:00 noon. I was praying already that they would let us go...send us home. But by 11:45 a staff started calling names for the jury panel. I waited with apprehension praying that my name won't be called. Then my heart skipped a bit when I thought it was my name, but it was not. Oh, I heaved a sigh of relief. But she went on to call some more names...then...my name came out of the speaker loud and clear. "Here," I called back.

We were instructed to go to the 3rd floor, Dept. G. So the 50 or so people filed out of the room to the upper floor. There we waited at the hallway near the courtroom, and in a few minutes a court clerk let us in. We sat down and the judge greeted us. We barely spoke...it sounded more like a whimper, and the judge said, "You can do better than that." So we all replied in unison in a much louder voice. He understood our feeling...that we were not happy to be there.

Finally, I saw what was inside that very courtroom. It's unlike the ones we usually see on TV. The jury seats were metal padded foldable ones, and the spectators', were spring-loaded to fold automatically, and were made of plastic. They were cold to sit on; not comfortable. The judge, of course, had the best seat in the room--swivel, leather upholstery, high back with arms.

We were each given questionnaires to fill up at home, and were instructed to return the next day at 10:15 AM. I'm in, but still praying to be dismissed, hoping that they get the 12 jurors and 2 alternates before they get to my name.

I had lunch then headed home; I was so tired and sleepy I went to bed and took a nap.

A Long Weekend

Monday the 28th is Memorial Day, a holiday, and this means we have a long weekend. Some people have gone out of town, but I have opted to stay put. I am not going to any campground, amusement parks, or out of town visiting some friends who could be out there celebrating. It was not TGIF for me yesterday. I've been fidgeting in my seat since last month every time I'm reminded to do my duty as a citizen. I received a court summons to be present at jury service selection. I have registered by phone as instructed within 5 days of receiving the summons. Since then I get anxiety attacks every time I think of it. I don't want to sit at a witness stand and be cross examined by the prosecuting and defense attorneys. But, I have to do it; my duty as a citizen. Ngeee. I know it's my duty, what else can I do? But it seems not fare to me.

Sometime in the 1990s I twice received this same kind of summons from the court. The first and second time I managed to exempt myself, being a licensed business owner--freelance consulting. But nowadays, that excuse is no longer acceptable, it was deleted from the list. I may be exempted if I'm mentally disabled--comatose siguro. Well, there are exemptions still but the list had been reduced to a few and I'm not in any of those. Then in 2004 I had my third summons and since I can't be excused anymore I availed myself to the court. After the number of jurors the court needed were satisfied, I and the rest of the assembly were sent home, which in essence means we have performed our duty. So, now, again I have this summons. This is my fourth one!

I have today, Saturday, tomorrow and Monday to be away from it. On Tuesday the 29th I have to be up early and be there at the assembly room at 8:15 AM. Hopefully, nothing's going to happen to me driving to court and coming home. The last time I went there in 2004 I had a car accident. Yeah. Remember that Nini? LOL I was looking at signs or landmarks on my way to lunch to familiarize myself with the place. The courthouse is about 15 miles away from my place, but it's not one I always go to. Well, as I was driving I didn't notice the red light until I was too close, and didn't have enough time to stop. A van was coming out of the intersection, and I prayed as I plowed into her front ripping away her bumper. As I did that I prayed and said to myself, "This is it. This is the end of me." But lo and behold, I managed to park my car on the side and got out unscathed. I was unhurt but shaky. I hastily got out of the car forgetting the key in the ignition. My car engine was still running as I stepped on the sidewalk. People who heard the crash all came out of their stores and shops and gawked at me and the mess. I didn't care, I was shaken. A couple who owned the store where I parked came out and called a police officer. The officer was very courteous and understanding; he noticed my JUROR BADGE on my chest. He didn't give me a ticket for running a red light, but made a report about the accident. The guy...err, woman who was driving the van kept asking me if I worked for the city--a government official or employee. He...err, she saw my badge, as well. I should have told her I did...lol, but I didn't. I work on my own, man...err, woman. Intiende? He he he

My car was a total loss.

The Mist

The Mist

At times I see the mist

As the sun rises in the East.

I see it among the trees

Kissing the yellow, amber and green leaves;

Clinging to their branches and twigs;

Saying hello to birds and bees,

As they await the morning sunburst.

Life moves--a seed from ground would burst;

Behold! as leaves unfold seedlings;

Life awakens in all our surroundings.

The sun rises higher...and higher

The mist can no longer linger

And it's shape and form disappear--

Vanishing into thin air--

Dying in the atmosphere.

It reappears tomorrow

On every Green Pine bough

An end, there'll never be

As mist is born in every new dawn.

A Birthday Party For A Lady

I called my friend and I said, "Jay, you know I'm here at MOSS? I forgot about this party we're going to this coming Saturday (May 12) and I'm looking for a dress to wear. I got the invitation a month ago, and now I have only a few days to find a dress." I found one, but my friend and I have a good laugh at my forgetfulness. It's a cute 2 piece dress: top is white and bottom is black with white flower design, and ruffles at the hem. I liked the ruffles it made the dress really feminine.

Yesterday, Tuesday, my husband and I looked for a suit for him to wear and we found one at the mall near our place--about 4 miles away. It is navy blue--well, almost black so it could pass as black. Requested attire is black and white, formal or semi-formal.

The celebrant is a young woman who's turning 80; still energetic, witty, and full of life. She always held parties at her home where she lived by herself. She had a car accident late last year, and decided it was time for her to quit driving. She realized that at her age her reflexes are not what it used to be. She sold her car; sold her small 3 bedroom house and moved to an apartment. She can still move about with the help of her family and friends. She's very active in church functions and members of her church are always there to help her. I met her at the Luau, one of the church's fund raising events. She was one of the committee members and I was the artist (kuno) for the flyers, posters, signs and program cover design.

This party will be one big celebration; it's only once that she'll turn 80. The chance of her reading this is nil, but just the same I'm wishing her..."Happy Birthday Manang Fely."

On The Flight to Frankfurt

I wrote the poem below right after getting back from a cruise on the Black Sea in Eastern Europe. My husband and I boarded the Lufthansa Airlines in Los Angeles, California headed for Germany, our first stop. Next we headed for Athens, Greece where we embarked on the ship Insignia of Oceania Cruises, in Piraeus.

On the Lufthansa

Like sardines we were packed

Air turbulence--we rolled and rocked.

Food served on trays, tiny and cute

But, it almost made me puke.

Chicken with sauce so creamy

Made my stomach queasy.

The food inside me tumbled,

It complained and grumbled.

Oh no! I have to go.

Line is long; hold before I let go.

Finally, my time has come.

I sit and poof, it's gone!

Only air, sigh, what a relief,

Now I can relax and breathe.

Aaah!

Sept. 13, 2004

Good-bye my gumamelas.

It's time to say good-bye to my gumamela paintings (click here). I have enjoyed them for a while, but now I'm sending them away. A lady in New York wanted to have them.

I pulled a spare balikbayan box from behind a wall unit and fashioned a small box that would fit 2-16" x 12" oil paintings.

I then wrapped the paintings in plastic then carefully wrapped it again in bubble wrap...

closed the box...sealed it...typed the recipient's address on a piece of paper, glued it on and took it to the post office for delivery and bade it farewell.

I tracked it down on the internet and it's now nearing its destination...perhaps tomorrow, Monday, or Tuesday the mailman would be knocking at her door delivering the package. It will soon hang on the wall of her home--my paintings' new home. Sniff...sniff...I'll miss them. I had them for over a year and now they are gone, my two lovely gumamela paintings. Maybe, I should make another one, and this time a larger one, and of different color. And then, maybe, send them away to another home. Or, maybe, this time I'll keep it. ;-)

Can't Leave Home Without It.

I pulled my pants on, a knit shirt, slid on my flat shoes, grabbed my purse and headed for the door. My husband and I are going shopping for our groceries. But before shopping I'm going to send a package to a friend, so we'll stop by the post office before going to the market. I took the package with me. I have my purse with me already, but it seems light, not it's usual weight. Something is amiss. I went back upstairs, checked on the night table to see if it's there. No, it's not there. To the home office, where my computer is and where I usually put that thing, it's not there. It's not in the bathroom either. I went back downstairs to see if I missed it; in the kitchen; in the den; and in the living room. It's not in any of those places. Now where is that thing? Where did I lay it on? I went back upstairs again. Maybe I missed a room or I just didn't see it. While climbing the stairs, something clicked in my head. I have not checked the room on my right--that little room I call my studio; the place where I do my work and put all my junk on the drawing table. Aah, I was right, it's there.

Years ago when I leave the house I take my purse filled with my survival paraphernalia for the day, like a lipstick, a compact, keys, driver's license, my wallet and other little whatnot. I survive the day with these junk in my purse.

Nowadays, I can't leave home without this little gizmo. I have to turn the house upside down to look for it before heading out the door. It's now a necessity, this little thing that connects me to all while I'm on the go, this little thing called...cellphone.

A Real Mom

I have been tagged by the lovely, gentle, compassionate and romantic writer Ghee. Thanks for the tag!

Here are the rules, put up a post "Real Moms (insert what they do here)", followed by an explanation, a photo, and a "Real Moms. Making...". Then tag five people.

Real moms are super. They can do anything; they can leap tall buildings; fly like a bird; and are strong they can carry heavy loads like a cruise ship. Hmmm, sounds like Wonder Woman.

A real mom knows all the answer. Guides and helps with the homework, and can say the multiplication table by heart. NOT! So I made Eddie memorize the table himself. He he he

A real mom is fearless. She can enter a dark room without fear of ghosts coming out from the dark corners. Little Sue got her fearlessness from mom, but she can't eat balut like her (mom).

A real mom doesn't get sick. She has to be up and about, to do her motherly duties to all--kids and hubby, even if she's running a fever and feels yucky.

A real mom never gets tired. She'll do everything to help her kids without rest. Ay, hirap talaga.

A real mom makes everything better. She can kiss that bruise away and reassures that everything will be alright by her warm hug.

A real mom guides and teaches what is wrong and right; how her kids should behave when, where and with whom. She's their best buddy, their confidante and playmate...but she's still the mom who disciplines them.

Tadaaaa!!!

Now I'm tagging Nona and Ann, who are both mothers, and since I don't know any other mothers here I'll tag some singles. They'll write what they think of their moms or what their moms do. The young ladies are: Tina, Sasha and Cat.

Nothing Much Going On

Update...this just in...

I've been busy lately taking a nap on the couch. He he he...so now it's midnight and I'm wide awake. I was making a box earlier this afternoon getting ready to pack something. I would soon send this thing away and bid it good bye. I'm having second thoughts about it, if I should send it away. But...sigh...I have to.

tQERQASDFHJKIP

Fill in the void...

Just like it said, fill in the void. There's nothing much going on. So, in the meantime, I'm going to post a short poem I wrote as a comment to my friend Nini. I've been thinking of doing this for quite sometime now, but I've been napping too much, my hair in back have been rubbed off and my scalp is showing already. Time to do something more productive, like take a walk to the fridge and get some ice cream.

Now with the poem, but first let me quote what Nini wrote.

"Just Vanity

Logging the time
Counting calories
Making the trips
Diet to keep
There’s but a face
I still chase ...
Mine!
Of years ago :-) "


My response.

Mine of years ago
Now that face I don't know.
Over the years,
Wrinkle here and there,
Have come
And have not gone.
I chased,
It was a waste.
It picked up speed
down the hill like a sled.
I gave up...
I'm grown up,
And grown old
With so many folds.
They are here to stay
And I can say,
Been there, done that.

Scenes In and Around the Valley

FLOWERS

Spring has come. Flowers have sprung, wild and otherwise.

Gazania

African daisies

Potisporum tobira

The scent of these flowers reminds me of sampaguita.

Bees have followed the sweet aroma of this dandelion flower....

...and these violet sedum flowers.

BIRD

It's nesting time for our feathered friend here with two of her chicks. She's lucky to have hatched them before a cat got to them. Last year there were 4 birds nesting on my trellis and all nests were attacked by something--cat, rat or lizard--and the eggs were all cracked open on the ground.

LIZARD

Could this lizard be one of the culprits?

FASHION

Wild hair style

Pants - as low as they can.

Fancy back pocket design.

CLOUDS

Dancing clouds

The wild one

The eagle...

...and sunset over the valley.

Hocus Focus

I have so many things on my mind to blog about, but I can not focus on one. Scatter brained? I suppose I am. And I have so many things to do as well. I start one project and then go on to another one. I get sidetracked so easily. I need to focus. I thought I would resume painting what I have started a while back, so I started clearing my drawing table of junk. I then got my palette and scraped the dried up oil paint that has been sitting there for months. I got those 2 things done. Got my easel with the unfinished painting on it and dusted it. Somewhere along the way I got distracted by something. Soon the cleared drawing table started to fill up with junk once again.

Now I remember what had caught my eye and distracted me. It was a pencil drawing I have done, 2 of them in fact. One was of little Sue's when she was 5 years old and the other was of Eddie's when he was of the same age. Eddie is 5 years older than Sue, but those were the 2 pictures of them I found nearby when I thought I should try pencil drawing. I had done portrait before when I was in college, but that was a long time ago. And those days I used grid. Now I thought maybe I should not do that and do more freehand style. Grid for a small drawing, I think, is amateurish. It would be alright to use it for a big painting as in a mural, like those I've seen on the side of skyscrapers. Come to think of it. I should take a picture of one of those murals in downtown Los Angeles when I happen to be there. I hardly go there anymore. It takes about 50 minutes driving time to get there. And then there's the parking that would take more time to find.



3 B pencil on 8 1/2" x 11" plain paper

Interesting reading...

From The Week
March 16, 2007

Good week for:

Getting even, after a 7-year-old Wisconsin girl called police to report that her grandfather was cheating at cards. Police have decided not to charge either party.

Overkill, after opponents of late Serbian President Slobodan Milosevic dug up his corpse and drove a stake through his heart, apparently to minimize the odds of him returning from the dead.

Making the trains run on time, after President Alan Garcia of Peru kicked off a national punctuality campaign by ordering all citizens to synchronize their watches. Peru's famously carefree attitude toward time, Garcia said, is "a horrible, dreadful, harmful custom." (Uubra kaya sa Pilipinas ito? Isang oras nang huli, okey pa rin.)

Bad week for:

Neutrality, when a group of Swiss soldiers accidentally invaded Liechtenstein during a night-training exercise. The government of Liechtenstein (population: 34,000) said it hadn't even noticed the incursion across it's borders. "It's not like they stormed over here with attack helicopters," said a government spokesman.

Observing wildlife from the air, after an enraged Alaskan moose brought down a hovering helicopter with its antlers. No humans were hurt, but the moose did not fare well in his collision with the spinning rotor and had to be put down. (Poor deer.)

Romance, after Maria de Jesus Flores, 98, of Mexico filed a complaint against Manuel Martinez, 48, a grocery deliveryman who has fallen desperately in love with her. "I can't have sexual relations anymore," said de Jesus Flores, who added she is weary of fending off Martinez. "I'm 98." (Di kaya malabo ang mata nitong si Martinez?)

Back to normal I hope.

I suppose my blog is back to normal for now. No one knows what would happen next. There are glitches that come once in a while; blogger or any other blog is not perfect. What I was thinking when my toolbar and post editor were missing is that someone had messed up my blog. That happens. There are a lot going on out there, scams, spams, phishing, defacing, and copying. This last one happened to my friend Nini. A blogger lifted her postings and pasted them on his/her (blogger's) blog. It was thievery or in literary term plagiarism. What we don't know is if it was done randomly and she happened to be the victim, or if it was done to her with malicious intent. Luckily she found out in time, before all her postings were copied. With the help of her friends said blog was flagged which eventually caused it to be suspended.

It doesn't pay, this crime
Might as well clean that grime
Underneath that smelly toilet
That's a better outlet
For an anger one might have.

Yuck!

I was in a quandary when my toolbar was missing. I sought help and went to several places, but I could not find the solution to my problem. In frustration I gave up. I thought it might regenerate and correct itself, and it did. Later on while blog hopping I found the solution to my problem at this blog. It's blogger for dummies...ha ha...just right for me.

Hooray, it's back!

My missing toolbar is back, and so are my compose and preview modes. I'm happy...I could cry. Ha ha ha Now, whoever made magic, I should thank. Google people I'm sure did their best to correct this problem. I was not the only one who had this problem. Thank you, thank you.

Happy days are here again, you bet. I'm not ready to post anything yet. My pictures are still in my memory card. I didn't have time to put them in my album, but I will for sure share them with my friends.

Blogger, I have a problem.

Flowers by a friend

A painting in colored pencil done by my friend Nancy. She's a very versatile artist; she can do anything in any media--oil, colored pencil, water color, charcoal pencil, pastel and others. She did this drawing in her spare time, while watching TV--one eye on the TV and the other on her drawing. Just kidding. And right after she finished it she sent it to me via her cellphone to my cellphone. What technology can do nowadays, we can send copies of pictures not only through the internet or fax machines, but also through our cellphones. And the colors never changed, it is as vivid and striking as the original.

I love this painting. Her blending of colors, color combinations and composition are excellent. She truly is a great artist; she has honed her skill with the help of her tutor-- her loving artist husband.

Tula

I dabble in poetry. I was inspired and encouraged by my good friend, Nini, a poet. I can say, without any reservation that she is one of the best, and I'm sure some of those who have read her poems agree with me. (Pssst...you agree? Right? Come one say something.) Her poetry takes one off to her world; to her feeling of joy and soars with her. It is a gift. How I wish I could write just like her, but, alas, I am not to be. I am a mere rhymester...not a poet.

Here's one I wrote in Tagalog.

Ay, Hinagpis

Si Mang Isko ay naghihinagpis
Di makakain; singnipis na ng ipis.
Ang paningin ay nagkaekis-ekis
Nang ang mahal niya ay umalis.

Ito ay nangibang bayan,
Tumawag o sumulat nakalimutan.
Si Mang Isko ay nagmuk-mok
Kanyang ulo'y ipinuk-pok.

Sa pader na walang bukbok,
'Sing tigas ng martilyong pamukpok,
Hanggang siya'y nagkabukol-bukol
Animo'y kalsadang Maynila na bakul-bakol.

Maawaing kapitbahay ay di pansin
Kahit may dalang bibingkang kakanin.
Maawa na sana ang mahal niya
At bumalik na sa piling niya.

O, hinagpis.

Aug. 19, 2004

Interesting reading...

From The Week Magazine.
Feb. 23, 2007

It wasn't all bad.

A Thai woman who got lost 25 years ago has returned home. In 1982, Jaeyaena Beuraheng left the remote southern province of Narathiwat to shop across the nearby border, in Malaysia. But on her way back, she mistakenly got on a series of buses that eventually took her to Chiang Mai, 745 miles north of her hometown. Unable to make herself understood, she ended up living in a homeless shelter until three students from Narathiwat, visiting the shelter on a research project, recognized her native Yawi dialect and pieced together her story. Last week, Beuraheng was reunited with her seven children, who had long assumed she was dead. "She remembered all of her children's names," said a local official.

Bad week for

Fatal attractions, after a 70-year-old Japanese woman went on a trial for bombarding a 79-year-old man with more than 200 love letters and forcing her way into his home seven times. When the object of her affection did not respond, she told him, "If it comes down to it, you could die." (Naloko na...masama palang tamaan si lola.)


Workplace

What drives co-workers crazy
The people you work with might say otherwise, said L. M. Sixel in the Houston Chronicle, but they really hate your cute ring tone. Ringing cell phones annoy 30 percent of working adults, according to a Randstad USA survey. The only workplace pet peeve that ranked higher was loud talkers. In fact, your co-workers can't stand anything about your cell phone. Besides the distracting ring tone, they don't like the ensuing conversations. People tend to discuss more "personal, medical, and romantic issues on their cell phones in front of their co-workers." They're not interested in your furniture deliveries, dental appointments, and marital spats.

A few rules of cell phone etiquette will keep your co-workers happy, said Cynthia Hubert in the Sacramento Bee. The moment you step into your office, put your phone on the vibrate setting. When calls do come in at work, let them roll to your voice mail. If you must take a call, walk to a private spot to speak. Forget about the bathroom. "Chances are, the person you're talking to won't relish the sound of flushing toilets in the background." If you can't leave your workplace, tilt your chin downward so that you're speaking toward the floor. Then your voice won't carry so far.

In A Little Corner

At the Island Pacific, a Filipino store in Van Nuys, California, there is a painting that I've been admiring for some time now. It looked like an oil painting; and most probably done by a Filipino painter. It's colorful and painted in an impressionistic style. But somehow this painting was hanging so high, about 20'-0" from the floor; and at a corner where hardly anyone would notice it, unless, one's eye wanders around and up. It is right above where shelves of tofu (tokwa), dried fish, dried shrimps and jars of shrimp paste (bagoong) are. A few feet away are the fresh fish section. From here it gets, maybe, the proper amount of humidity and perhaps could've absorbed some of the fish smell. It could be for lack of room to hang it was relegated to a small dark corner of the store. What a shame, a beautiful painting cast aside. Sana ibigay na lang sa akin at ilagay ko sa sala namin para makita ng lahat ang ganda nito.

Here's the painting taken with my cell phone camera.

Will it Catch my Dream?

It was a surprise package coming from the eastern side of the continent. I don’t remember when it came; it must have been in the early part of January of this year, 2007. The small envelope was bulging and something hard inside was in bubble wrap. I opened it and there it was, a beautiful piece of art--intricately woven tiny threads with colorful beads in a ring wrapped with leather ribbon and tassells of feathers. I never knew anything about dream catchers until I got this one from a special friend.

The enclosure in the packet gave me a synopsis of what it is.

Dream Catcher

It is believed that each woven web will catch your dreams in the night. The bad spirit dreams will get caught in the web and disappear with the morning sun. However, the good spirit dreams will find their way to the center spirit hole and will float down the sacred feather.

The Legend of the Dream Catcher

A spider was quietly spinning his web in his own space. It was beside the sleeping space of Nokomia, the grandmother. Each day, Nokomia watched the spider at work, quietly spinning away. One day as she was watching him, her grandson came in. "Nokomia-iya!" he shouted, glancing at the spider. He stomped over to the spider, picked up a shoe and went to hit it. "Nokeegwa," the old lady whispered, "don't hurt him." "Nokomia, why do you protect the spider?" asked the little boy. The old lady smiled, but did not answer. When the boy left the spider went to the old woman and thanked her for saving his life. He said to her, "For many days you have watched me spin and weave my web. You have admired my work. In return for saving my life, I will give you a gift." He smiled his special spider smile and moved away, spinning as he went. Soon the moon glistened on a magical silvery web moving gently in the window. "See how I spin?" He said, "See and learn, for each web will snare bad dreams. Only good dreams will go through the small hole. This is my gift for you. Use it so that only good dreams will be remembered. The bad dreams will become hopelessly entangled in the web."

My dream catcher hanging above my drawing table. I'm hoping that my dream of painting a large masterpiece in oil would fit through the hole.

Thanks, D’Chrysalis. I will treasure this gift. Muah!