JASMINE IN MY MIND

A courier service messenger came with a package for me the other day. This is unusual, I thought. I seldom receive gifts now that I’m a parent except from generous girl friends who happen to have the same initials (my kumareng M, and my good friend M). I was puzzled while alighting from the tricycle as to where it could’ve possibly come from. I signed the tracking form and found out it came from Johnson and Johnsons. Weeeee!!!! Faith loved them and asked if we could share using the products. The violet-colored container (Johnson’s Body Care melt-away stress) suits me well because of its calming effect. Daughter prefers Johnson’s Body Care (24-hour lasting moisture).

share the softness with your friends

mild scents

Faith hiding her mumps

I unearthed two of the numerous poems my husband wrote for Faith and Elmo (almost a decade ago).

Baby Talk
(for our 4-month-old Elmo)

Ang sabi sa babasahin,
kausapin lang raw kita.
At maipupunla sa isip mo
ang mga binhi ng aking salita.
Maaani ng iyong dila
sa pagtanda, upang patalasin
ang bawat katagang
lalaya sa iyong bibig at diwa.

Sta Romana Village,
San Jose City, Nueva Ecija,
August 27, 2000

Leap of Faith
(for Faith, my 19-days old daughter
practice ng stream of consciousness, kung anung pumasok sa isip, siyang sinulat)

This is a poetic irony. Mute as I am,
Here, unable to glue my collections
Of birthing images. So helpless
I might blanket my self in a curse,
But in thinking so, had myself resurrected
From a long death. Only to be remurdered.
Perhaps I should summon spontaneity to choke
Every gap and reason, and let my fragmented
Assortments pair themselves as they please.
Let them speak. Let themselves speak.
Gag my learning of poetry and let it thread
Thru their intestinal souls like your gentle yawning
At the crack of dawn:

Orange-stripped cat with an expectant father,
Barefoot as the female guard calls his wife’s
Name. Grandmother selling us her
Earrings to buy her daugther-in-law’s
Medicine. A hall of visitors waiting
For the clock to strike five and aunts hiding
Formula milk for their nieces and nephews.

And if these seem not enough, recall those
Beads you’ve touched at your fatherly senses
Reciting prayers for last minute miracles
The way God had turned water into wine.
She can be pretty, she can be ugly,
But please let her eyes stay two.
An extra in between is cute for Greek
Myth but we’re more comfortable at the company
Of each for each eyebrow. Curve her the lips
Of Miss Piggy or Kermit but never rest a fault
That would crack the banshee wails and mermaid
Serenades of her chordless adolescence.
I’ll be the best father there is but please, please,
Let her be normal as she ought to be,
No pig’s tails, nor frog’s feet.

But then how should I part this chopped up prose,
When I failed to mention about the illegalities
Of bottle feeding hospital-born babies
After my indented stanza or when at citing my litany
Of prayers I failed to mention the texts messages I’ve sent
Asking for more prayers — my wife’s at the delivery
Room at the moment, pray for her and our daughter,
Please. This is another case of my first son
Repeated. Of communist and atheist fathers
Turning to prayer when a child is in the offing.
Those  Sunday afternoons at UP chappel,
While in-between the Philcoa trip and I is a vast
Sunken garden opening my lack of faith to the fires
Of a moment’s emptiness and distrust. Forgetful of how
A sea is turned into blood and parted at a swish
Of Grandpa’s walking stick. Much like a stream
Of consciousness in paper, violating every rule
There is about norms and order. Just like this moment,
When after Basil had finished his romance of an
Afternoon rain would later court the amplified speaker
Loud with a promise of rerouting to past emotions long gone.

And there you were after four hours of waiting.
Asleep across the silicon window,
Wrapped in your elder brother’s baby clothes.

Here I’ll lay mute images, feelings deaf of spellings —
For gaps after gaps after gaps, we were there,
Feeling each other’s heartbeat in a stretched arm’s silence.
I trace your facial lines the way I mastered my first
Geometric figures when I was three. Comparing your
Features with us. Ah those are not your mother’s lips
This time! Haha. Your nose seems mine but triangular holes reject
My claims otherwise. Which is good.  Very good indeed.
And there is no pig’s tail, there are no frog’s feet.

Then I might have not cut your umbilical cord this time
But something spatial has traversed
The glass partition in between. Connecting us to an
Indescernible point of tangency where the courage
Is paired helplessly with faith to borne forth rhymes
From the pages of the miraculous walking stick.
Seal the lines, bring in the last dot.
This is end, most wanted, most expected.

26 December 2001

But I am sure that I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round… as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely. - Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

my daughter loves to pose for the camera

One more week to go and we’ll be celebrating the most fun-filled event of the year. Christmas in the Pinoy tradition is considered the merriest season for it allows people from all walks of life to share blessings, material or otherwise. Old grudges are erased and genuine acts of forgiveness are welcomed. Chilled hearts are defrosted and mirth is spread to one and all hence, bringing us closer to the Great Example that is Jesus Christ.

Children are especially thrilled to receive avalanche of gifts from ninongs, ninangs, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Never forget as well how they look forward to Santa Claus’ presents. For adults like me, it can mean ignoring the temptation to pig out which can be quite too hard to resist. Or forgetting about the ordeal one has to go through just to have a decent weight. It’s a time when one can take a pass at constantly estimating cholesterol intake.

As a true blue Pinoy, I definitely wouldn’t want to miss the fun that this joyous season brings by dwelling on negative emotions. There may be some gripes (thanks but no thanks to recession, calamities, and forces beyond human control) but hey, wouldn’t it be nice to end the year and start 2010 with happy thoughts? Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche, a humble Tibetan Lama, guru and a master of well being said to attain happiness is akin to what experts do.  Constant practice. That being said, I am channeling positive (electrically-charged) energies! Don’t get bothered if you see a lady laughing like crazy. That person might just be me.

Anyhoo, this year we didn’t have a tree but it’s okay. What counts is the Yuletide spirit within us. After all, Christmas cheer does not depend on the amount of lights or trees or decors you put inside your home. Initially, we planned of disposing the  old tree to make way for a new one. Its been with us for two years or so, you can literally visualize the battered branches and faded color. Unfortunately, hubby’s been neck-deep with work. It was impossible to scour the nearest malls and supermarkets for decors. Nevertheless, I still found a way to make full use of it by recycling. Using a small pliers, I cut some of the parts and formed them into circle, placed christmas balls and ribbons around, and voila! Got a colorful Christmas wreath.

In the spirit of Christmas, I say sorry to those whom I have offended. Sorry everyone. Hihihihi. For those who gave me heartaches, headaches, tummy aches, toothaches (all the aches there is!) - I forgive you. Peace, love and happiness be with you all!

Maogmang Kapaskuhan satuya gabos. Dios mabalos!

Eight years ago, at this very instance, I was counting from one to five  in an attempt to overcome painful contractions. Then I’d take long, deep, breaths. One-two-three-four-five….breathe in, breathe out…one-two-three-four-five…breathe in, breathe out…

The vehicle’s accelerated momentum, hubby’s gentle reminders and instructions, all the previous Lamaze infos blurred instantly. What was clear then was the excruciating pain brought about by an effacing and dilating cervix, as if a giant’s pushing hard from within me. I thought, my goodness, it doesn’t make any difference at all whether you’re a first-time mom or a second-time mom. Why didn’t I have the same luck as other women who can deliver a child just by standing!?

You’ll know the baby is coming out once labor pains happen at regular, closer intervals. And so I distracted myself from birthing anguish by counting. Did it made things easier? Partly, yes but I still made a promise not to have another pregnancy. My only concern was to make it through our destination without my daughter dangling between my legs. When I reached the hospital, the scenario was even weirder. They took a blood sample from me since my skin had a pallid-yellowish color. The doctor suspected I might have had a jaundice. Right after that, I was told to undress and put on a green gown with the entire back area exposed, was put on a stretcher, and was told to wait until the dilation reaches 8-cm. Other would-be moms beside me were wailing endlessly, commanding the attending nurses to call the doctor and send them to the Caesarian section. They were like “Dok, biyakin nyo na…” I was suppressing my laughter while the others were in their semi-acrobatic stint. Kanya-kanyang porma na. May nakatuwad na, may nakadapa, may nakataas ang dalawang paa. Hala.

Somehow, I was proud that I managed to keep my cool, despite the throbbing sensation. I shut my mouth and observed instead. The pain was no joke! It felt like the baby’s boxing my innards out. Twice I gave birth, but during those times, it was only myself and the husband. I did not experience giving birth with my mother’s comforting presence beside me. Despite that, and deep inside — I know my mother was praying hard for me and her grandchild’s safety.

After two hours of laboring, my second and youngest child was set to see the world. But being the KSP that she is, the entrance must have with it some drama. It has to be grand. My MONTHS of practice and breathing exercises did not work. I was battered and hopeless. I told myself, alright, you’ll have to do this one last push okay. What I did instead was to shout horrendously while pushing hard. The doctor, who was gentle at first, started to panic. I was really shouting at the top of my lungs, the other moms outside thought I was dying! Finally, Faith came out. And she came with the loudest cry a newborn infant could muster. The doctor said, “o yan tuloy misis–nagmana sayong anak mo, ang lakas humiyaw!”.

Happy 8th birthday, Faith! We are so blessed to have a daughter as sweet, as bright, and as loving as you are.

Greek couple

Ireland couple

USA

UK

Serbia

Poland

Source: http://www.thatwasfunny.com/husband-of-the-year-awards/1492

The thing with too many blog templates is that it makes you downright schizophrenic. Wordpress has a wealth of really nice ones. I tell you, the designs are so awesome you would want to try all of them at once. Themes saved in my dashboard numbers up to thirty nine. Figure that out, 39! And I sooo liked all of them. But for now, I settled with this template called brainstorming. Hubby was also quick to offer his two cents: pwede ba, wala nang identity yang blog mo, palit ka nang palit. Well, I deserved it. I’ve been bugging the poor guy to download every new set of templates I find online.

On a different note, I was invoking my natural abilities to create so I can kill my number one enemy. Boredom. The leftover paints stuck on one corner of the house seem to tell me, pansinin mo ko. Maybe I can use it to do a makeover of an old dresser that’s about to collapse.

Here’s my newly-painted (red) dresser (it used to be mahogany-colored).

I also used the paint to add color to these pots!

We are on the last throes of November and soon after, its Christmas time once again. Unlike the previous Christmases though, we may not be visiting folks in Bicol for the traditional Noche Buena and Media Noche. Hubby and I are to spend the Yuletide season together. Here’s the story. Faith and I left for Pili last year, while he and Elmo stayed in San Jose. So we were actually miles away from each other.

We are also saving to buy something we’ve been wanting to have.

Some good news.

My daughter, for several days now, has been coming home wearing a beaming expression on her face. Faith is naturally a happy kid, so you can imagine how she behaves when elated, as if in a trance! Last time she proudly showed us two nice-looking key chains given by her teacher. It’s because she’s consistently getting high scores in her subject. Today she’s jumping with joy for getting plus points in her art project (a paper weight made of stone, painted with watercolors) Nice piece of work, bebegel!

No, going outdoors is absolutely out of my plans for today. Besides, Sunday is supposed to be spent on relaxation, isn’t it? Forget about the relentless demands of human existence.  It’s a day that might as well be devoted to setting aside chores and savoring a much-needed body rest. However, right at this moment while blogging, I’m also washing baskets of laundry! Rock ‘n roll!

Sundays are a perfect time to have family bonding moments and experiment on new dishes. Fortunately, I’ve come across easy-to-whip recipes from an old magazine. I’m trying it out this afternoon for a change! My culinary skill has rapidly slid down to its decomposing stage. Wait a minute. The question is, do I have the “skills” in the first place? I am very talented at eating, but cooking? We’ll see…

The recipe is called Penne Alfredo Pasta with chicken and pimiento. Its a pasta dish with cheesy cream sauce jazzed up with the flavor and aroma of pimiento and chicken. Preparation time takes 15 minutes and another 15 minutes for cooking time.

I will need the following ingredients:

1 pack 500 g penne, cooked
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp minced garlic
1 1/2 cups flaked roasted chicken
1 1/2 cups low fat milk
1 1/2 cups all-purpose cream
1 large can pimiento, drained and chopped
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves
1/4 cup grated cheese
salt and pepper to taste
grated cheese for garnish

Procedure:

1. Heat olive oil in a large saute pan. saute garlic until soft and fragrant.
2. Stir in the cooked chicken and saute for a few seconds.
3. Pour in the low fat milk and all-purpose cream. Stir and simmer for one minute.
4. add in the chopped pimiento and basil leaves. Stir and cook until the basil leaves are wilted.
5. Stir in the grated cheese and add some seasoning. Put some salt and pepper.
6. Toss the cooked penne into the sauce. Transfer into a platter and top with more grated cheese. Serve.

Yum! I can’t wait to try out this recipe. Well,  need to fast track my laundry-washing. Go sago!
- - - -

Here’s the finished product. Sad to say, I didn’t find Basil leaves. But it tastes good just the same. Hubby ate 4 plates of it. Hmmm, am getting better.

With everyday headlines screaming violence, soaring fuel and commodity prices, never-ending corruption and politicking — finding happiness seems much too elusive these days. How can you flash your winning smile or have genuine laughter when you know people around you are unsafe, deprived, and vulnerable? But sometimes, one has to make peace with his limitations as a person. Definitely, we weren’t born to be problematic about the nation’s burden. Even superheroes have their own weaknesses. How much more about us? We’re only humans. Too much focus on the macro, rather than the self isn’t going to be that helpful.

Once, I wrote my shout-out this way:  When does happiness stops becoming an illusion and starts being real? Is it when you have mastered the art of getting everything at your hands? or is it when your soul can be merry even when you have been stripped of wealth, fame, power and all else in between? Of course, that sounded a bit like “emo” (or jolemo, if you like: jologs na emo).

I got a number of comments from philosophic, profound, to trite. What I really like to say is that being happy doesn’t have to have a reason. But yeah, happiness can also lead others to think that either a) you’ve won millions in a lottery draw, or b) you’re out of your mind. In a society such as ours, we were conditioned to think that way, as if the only road is through material possessions.  My happiness these days are really, really simple. I think it becomes parallel with age? Growing by the minute means being less and less demanding. Winnie Monsod said to be happy means wanting what we get and success is actually getting what we want. What do you want? Hehehe.

I’m happy just by having a daily dose of these:

1. Good conversation with Nanay and Tatay. For practical reasons, J and I decided to live in CL and not in CamSur, leaving us all far from each other. Its been 10 years now and we don’t get to see each other that often. The only consolation is that I go home every once or twice a year. To remedy this,  I call them almost daily and you bet, I am filled with joy always! Nothing can beat having a truly wonderful exchange of words whether its plain chismis or something serious and important.

2. A kiss from my children. Thank God these children I bore weren’t as suplada as I am! They were very “malambing”. In fact, my youngest is fond of hugging and kissing and pinching my body fats. The son (since he’s nine, and already starts becoming conscious) makes “mano” instead of kiss. There are times though that he gets uber-sweet like when he wants me to buy him a toy.

3. Shared laughter. Laughter is a good medicine, but it heals best when shared with others. I am a self-confessed non- laugher, but you have to stop me once I start (that means you are a great company or the best clown in town). Need I say more?

4. A whiff of fresh air. My window faces an old lovely oak tree (or is it a narra? never mind, basta its a tree!).  When I write and stare at its swinging branches, I felt like being hypnotized. It gets even more perfect if I have by my side a freshly-baked pandesal filled with keso or butter and black coffee with creamer. Haaay. Now I’m craving…

5. Watching a good movie. Bless be thy Torrents.

6. Sweating it out. Thank God for treadmills, they give me happiness. Wanna know why? I am losing weight. 2 kilos off, 5 more to go.

7. Farmtown. Planting, plowing, buying, selling…only in Farmtown.

8. Sipping a coffee or ginger brew. For coffee lovers, a day must not pass without gulping one. When making my coffee, I make sure that I put on a little amount of cold water and stir the coffee, cream and sugar for the aroma to become stronger.

9. Finding a nice blog template. Yesterday was an all-time high. I got some pretty blog templates from Wordpress. 

10. Listening to music. Good music is calming and makes me comfortable, which is great for relaxation, study or reading.

Like one writer puts it: loneliness is optional, happiness is a choice. Loneliness, next to love, inspired a lot of artists, writers and musicians in crafting their obras/masterpieces. Yet, its also one of the most devastating of human emotions, enough to send some into suicide. Choose to be happy no matter what. That’s only when you can lead a fuller existence.

I super love my blog’s new layout! Maraming salamat, Wordpress.

My real intention’s to churn a decent entry for the day. But actually this is what I wanna do. I want to get a pair of scissors, sharpen them until they glint like gold, then cut my hair till I look like Britney! Why should you do that, you wanna ask. Because I am so bored right now.
Forgive me for the bland title though. It’s the kind J would mercilessly point as “walang kalibog-libog”. You bet it’s pretty normal for one to lose all tinge of creativity after burying his head into FB for a long period of time. Por Dios por Santo, what do I expect ‘noh? I’ve been hinting the only benefit I derive from FBing is a temporary respite from ennui. Thanks to the geniuses of FB apps. Thanks also to the daily barrage of status updates, links, pictures (ranging from pro, pseudo, to plain human-peacocks).

Pick your choice. Either you join the bandwagon or friggin’ regurgitate into caveman-hood. Facebook is like a marketplace of distinct personalities and ideas. There are intellectuals, artists, musicians, etc. and there are newbies who somehow find a way to “friendsterize” it. And this vast new world of online social networks — Facebook, along with MySpace, YouTube, Twitter —has certainly affected many parts of our lives. (See, I’m blogging about it all the time.)

On a different note, I promised myself to be more diligent in updating this blog. It’s what the deity of words revealed to me after offering a sackful of coffee beans from Yemen and a truckload of fresh sugar canes imported from Brazil. Nah, shoot me in the head. I’m just pulling your leg. (Hey, I’m gonna make a confession!  I was dozing somewhere when God gave mankind the gift of humor. Now you know why…)

To learn to appreciate the purest rhythms of life, to listen to silence, to stay still are essentials in the quintessence of writing. Sadly, we have been accustomed to chaos that mere silence translates immediately to boredom. Moments of silence are opportunities to slow down and recompose the self. Hear your own breathing. Listen to your heart. Talk to yourself.

I guess that’s all I can say for now. Have a nice day.

(Doesn’t look like I made any sense at all. haha)