Tuesday, July 24, 2012


27 years ago. I was combing Lola Gloria's hair one lazy Saturday afternoon. While I was trying to make two even sections of hair, first step in my attempt to make perfect pigtails of her very very long hair, I started shouting - IPIS! IPIS! IPIS! That was my first encounter with kuto.

Last month, I woke up one Sunday and started thinking about Lola Gloria. I haven't seen her since Lolo Dondo, her husband, died. And that was a little over five years ago. I was flooded with vivid images.

I have Lola Gloria to thank for the very many trips to the kangkungan (kangkong farm) when I was very little until when I was around seven years old - when the farm turned into a depressed community and all the greens were overthrown by people and garbage. I'd tag along when she'd bring lunch/snack, in a hard core ratan basket, for Lolo Dondo. I have Lola Gloria's family, and my father, to thank for close encounters with nature. I remember her everytime I talk to my plants.

During the latter years of her alzheimers, Lola's dementia took away so many of her memories. In fact, when Lolo Dondo died, she thought that one of her sons passed away and she kept saying during the wake that Lolo went to the movies. She also kept saying that we should go home because the owners of the house need to go to sleep (we were in their own house). She couldn't remember the names of a lot of people... but she never forgot mine. Ako yata ang unang apo, I rock. I know, I know...

Last month, when I thought about Lola Gloria.. I wondered if she's just waiting to see me (and a lot of her grandchildren) before she bids the earth goodbye. She's been bedridden for such a long time and I couldn't understand why someone's letting her stay in that condition... She's the kindest person I know. She didn't deserve to suffer.

Lola Gloria died today. I should have seen her last month.


You may disagree, but you'll figure this out eventually. No one graduates from the friend zone. If the passion, attraction and devotion was not around during the infancy of your relationship/friendship, you cannot work your way towards being the one great love of your one great love. 

You don't now the way I feel, oh no
Well, you think we're just friends
So I go along like nothing's wrong
But I know that is only pretense

I wanna be your lover
(I wanna be your lover)
I don't wanna be your friend
(don't wanna be your friend)

Well I don't kow what to tell you, oh no
I just can't find the words
Cause there's so many things That I wanna say
But I just don't know where to begin

I wanna be your lover
(I wanna be your lover)
I don't wanna be your friend
(don't wanna be your friend)

You don't know just how much I love you
Though it's easy to see
Cause if you knew how much I love you
And maybe someday, well you might love me

So I hope in time you'll love me, oh yeah
Love me as I love yu
But if this can't be, I'd rather see
The whole thing come to an end

I wanna be your lover
(I wanna be your lover)
I don't wanna be your friend
(don't wanna be your friend)

No I don't wanna be your friend
(don't wanna be your friend)

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Creepy Egg-Induced Thought

I subscribed to Femilia.Com just because I'm curious about so many things... Haha! The subscription gets me email notifications for when I'm ovulating and for when I'm due to have the red fairy visit. I just ignore these emails. I only check to validate dates or when some weird things happen... just like last week.

On my way to the ladies' room, I had an anxiety attack over when I should get pregnant again. I started worrying about menopause, menopause babies and how the little one's life will be like without a sibling. I started counting in years... if I should stop smoking at least two years before I get pregnant, when do I start counting? Etc., etc., etc.,

I was preparing to talk to the hubby about the baby blues... Then I checked my personal email. Goodness. I was ONLY ovulating. The little scheming egg's only trying to trick me into his/her trap.

Careful ladies! Evolutionary psychology says that our eggs will try to control us --- to fulfill their reason for being. So every desire to buy this... does not always mean you really need/want it. Ok?

From SM Centerpoint, Baby Land, 09/04/11 12:42PM

RIP Covey

When I was a little girl, this was the most expensive item in every sari-sari store in our neighborhood. I could never afford this yummy Yan-Yan. In fact, if not for the blessed hearts of some generous classmates, I wouldn't have tasted these happy sticks until 2001 (when I started working).

I'm not crazy about the biscuit nor the chocolate dip. I've had, continue to have, better purchases from Meiji.   However, I have not gotten over the emotional attachment with this fun snack. All the years of waiting, longing and wanting still drives me to pick up one to three cups from grocery racks - every single time I see them. The mysterious connection got even stronger after I gave birth. Psycho, pathetic, script: my little girl will have all the Yan-Yan she wants for as long as we can afford it.

The Hubby tried to stop me from getting some Yan-Yan earlier this afternoon, at the grocery. We already had so many packs of biscuits, cookies and chocolates in the shopping cart when he saw me throw in four little Yan-Yan's. I'm glad he gave in because I got so close to crying - pang in the chest present - when tried to stop me.

Next stop, Soy Sauce

I cook everyday. And like most people who cook this much, I get attached to certain products. The subject of my little drama in the grocery is Silver Swan's soy sauce.

After a bad experience with a huge kickass bottle of soy sauce, I vowed never to buy them big containers anymore. The stench from the bottle, after almost a year of storage, still haunts me. After this terrible experience, I found something I learned to love. Silver Swan in a 1L bottle. I loved the bottle (can't find any photos online) because of the hand grip. And it's ribbed, like a big mineral water bottle.

Cooking is a spiritual experience. And given that I'm a very tactile person, I find bliss when everything I touch feels "in harmony" with my hands. Hence the love for Silver Swan.

What we found out, this afternoon, though was disappointing. It's more expensive, by PhP12.00, than Datu Puti. My husband's very expense-conscious. He would never budge until I'm able to explain that something's worth the extra funds slipping away from our pocket. In summary, I was not able to defend my Silver Swan.

This broke my heart. My love was taken away from me.

RIP Covey

And so this is really what this post is about. Covey's message has been clear in all his works about listening and empathy - seek to understand, then be understood. My husband's a good man and I totally understand his financial management guru-self. I guess it will be a little easier for me though, if I'm assured that my psycho connection to these little material things are clearly understood before I'm pushed to accept the value of money over emotions.

I'm blogging this now because I feel that I can no longer have conversations inside my head with Mr. Covey. But I know that this temporary feeling is wrong. Now that he's gone, I even have more legitimate reasons to talk to him, as if in prayer.

RIP Mr. Covey. Next to Bob Greenleaf, you're the grandfather I never had.

A little girly note for no one

Pictures like these, from the FB page of RS, make me want to learn how to walk in "heels" without being in pain the whole time I'm in them. Is it too late?

Image is from

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