Insanity

Wow, this whole writing an ebook thing is more difficult than I thought.

I've been stuck on a page for days. Adding stories, deleting lines. Re-writing everything and ending with a blank page with the cursor blinking back at me.

I thought, if it was my story to be told, how can it be so difficult to write?

But you know, even if the memories are etched and carved into your soul, the words don't just come tumbling out.

Like a blotted ink from a really old pen, the memories seem like REALLY old fiction residing in my head. And I have trouble in picking one, and make an apple pie out of it.

I can swim through them, paddle my way across certain scenes and end up on the shore-- empty handed.

Where have the words gone?

Little one was busy playing with the building blocks and gave me this half hour respite. It was almost bath time, so I went to prepare our bath stuff and her pajamas. I ran the water slow and waited for her to finish and for me to finally begin mommy duty.

So, I lit about twenty candles in my bathroom. And I sat there for a good half hour, I watched the lights flicker and listened to Adele. I sat on the toilet seat, with my creased journal and really old pen, I tried to get that much needed Me Time and maybe some lines to add to the story I am trying to recreate.

I sat there for a really long time, and I found myself just thinking.

That moment, I wondered what it's like to have a husband. I wondered how it is to have someone with me in all of this.

Usually, before I allowed myself to cross into that thin ice of a thought, I shake my head and ask if I even need one. Thereby, stopping whatever thoughts that will come dancing through.

Today though, it was different.

After the wondering, I actually wished for someone who I can actually love.
And take care of. (Shit, really!)

Insanity.

My daughter seemed to have sensed it, and stood in the bathroom door with a smirk on her face.
She was covered with chocolate, and her building blocks are swimming in a bucket of home made cocoa.

LOLZ.

She is a bundle that needs a lot of TLC.

I smiled and told her the bath is ready- just in time to get that chocolate covered face look bright and decent again.

So much for husband thoughts.

Name Calling and Maturity

Over dinner tonight, little girl told me that we should just be eating bread for breakfast or for dinner.

Why? I asked.

"So we would lose weight."

I told her, I may have to lose more weight but I don't really fancy giving up great meals.
Besides, I didn't think she needed to have "weight issues" at this age. So I dismissed the suggestion, but I probed a little deeper.
I asked her what made her think about going on a diet.

She spilled:

On her way home this afternoon, a classmate kept calling her "Tambokikay!" (fat-so) over and over.
And though she bit back with a stingy "Stop It!" The other girl didn't seem to care and continued with the name-calling.

I asked her, "So what did you do?"

She replied: "Nothing. I asked myself if I am fat. My mind whispered I am not. Do you think I'm fat Ma?"

I told her she isn't fat. She already lost that round tummy right? The last thing we need right now is planting seeds of insecurity.
Besides, even if she were fat, no one in the right mind should be telling her that and worse, do the name calling!!

All the while she was explaining and relaying the events, my mind was racing. I mean, hell, who the F this classmate think she is, right? I mean seriously?! I'd pound this creature this moment!! But I continued to listen to her story, pretending it's just all everyday stuff to me. (And that I'm not reaaaalyyyyyy affected)

I asked her to tell me everything.

So, I also learned that her nanny, thankfully, did not intervene. (I believe that my daughter needs to address this kind of bullying herself.) The nanny just told my daughter to not mind the other girl and not to dawdle so they can just go home right away.

Apparently, my daughter who was very bothered and also very mad at the idea that she's being called fat, went home with a lot of steam.

She told me she kicked "some" little rocks in the garage, even if she was still in her school uniform. She would have wanted to throw fits right then, I knew. After all, she IS my daughter, I would have done the same. LOLZ

She also told me that she told the Manangs when she got home, and they told her to talk back at the classmate, call her names too: Pangit (Ugly), Payatot (Reed thin) and Way Batasan (No Manners).

And that this made her laugh. She can't believe she's being given the permission to say mean things! Haha

She also told me that she shouted back that she'll tell her mommy if the other girl won't stop the "tambokikay".

I grinned at the thought of being her superhero.

So I said: What do we do with this classmate of yours?

And because we are both born with mean bones, we seem to have a lot of mean things running in our minds at that exact moment.

So we looked at each other, said nothing and laughed like what the hell is so funny.

I wanted to tell her to say those things too!
I wanted her to yell back all the crap she thinks that little bully is.
I wanted her to kick the classmate in the face!
I wanted her to put that girl in her place - i mean, no ONE bullies us. ever!!

But you know, this five year-old daughter of mine, after she was done with her complaints, and whining and venting, she said this with finality in her voice:

"I don't know why she said those mean things, Ma. I mean, she's my friend. I even helped her with the clay project earlier. I let her borrow my stuff too. But I guess, she's just being mean and bad and hurtful. I just don't understand why."

Oh little one...., I hugged her. This is one of the many, many questions you will ask yourself as you grow older.

I told her: Some people are just mean and they say bad things at you, or about you. But always remember to never say the same about them. No matter how badly people act, remember that your mom taught you that and that you were raised right. And that you are a good person who never says bad things about anyone.

HA! I rolled my eyes as I listened to my piece of advice. I mean, really, I wanted to tell her: Punch her in the face!!

Yet, I said that because I truly believe my little girl can grow up to be kind and honest, and better than I was. She will not bully another human being in this planet! So even if I wanted her to bully the other girl back, my 'mature mommy side' won.

My little girl won't fight meanness by meanness. Because I tell myself, she's better than that!

I asked her what she's going to do tomorrow, if the other girl does the same thing again.

She said: "I'll tell her to stop calling me that. Because it's not nice and it's disrespectful. And because it makes me 'feel' Mad."

I swear, I could have stood and shouted bravo that very instant!

She's better at this diplomacy and respect BS I bookish-ly try to teach her, than I am. Hahaha Buti nalang.

I persisted and asked her: And if she still won't stop?

My little girl replied: "Then I will make her worry about things that concern her other than my being tambok. After all, she is just Medyo Gwapa, you know (Just slightly pretty) and tiny. Maybe she should worry about that more, Ma."

With this, I smiled my smile of victory. Way to go, little girl!
Always start with diplomacy. But if all else fails, give them crap they would never forget!!

If It Makes You Happy

I've been long, a long way from here
Put on a poncho, played for mosquitos,
And drank til I was thirsty again
We went searching through thrift store jungles
Found Geronimo's rifle, Marilyn's shampoo
And Benny Goodman's corset and pen

Well, o.k. I made this up
I promised you I'd never give up

***
If it makes you happy
It can't be that bad
If it makes you happy
Then why the hell are you so sad

You get down, real low down
You listen to Coltrane, derail your own train
Well who hasn't been there before?
I come round, around the hard way
Bring you comics in bed, scrape the mold off the bread
And serve you french toast again

Well, o.k. I still get stoned
I'm not the kind of girl you'd take home

***

We've been far, far away from here
Put on a poncho, played for mosquitos
And everywhere in between
Well, o.k. we get along
So what if right now everything's wrong?

***

You gotta love Sheryl Crow - it's a lovely Wednesday morning. Was able to write 1,000 words last night, before hitting the sack. Woke up to the alarm and was able to write 500 more. Amazing! Few more pages, (okay a lot more) I just might beat the deadline.

I've had three weeks of being stuck in the beginning. About a chapter worth of first few pages and introductions, and deleting. and starting over again.

Brick wall. Eyebags. Almost panic.

Finally, last night, I got the introduction I want.

It's almost perfect. well, it's acceptable to get the ball rolling.

I'm not letting this momentum go. So far, it's been the most honest and most raw writing i've ever done. And it's out for real writing too.

So John, I'll be able to submit on time :) Soon.

Say, what?

The best time to receive roses is at the moment when you least expect it. 

Dear (name),

Thank you.

Just when I thought I can't feel this feeling anymore, you always manage to make me smile.

You are, in a way, my miracle.

94.

94 Years. 

Can you imagine what 94 years could bring to your life?

Must be awesome to reach this stage and be surrounded by children, grandchildren and great grand children.

And to be able to laugh.

Love.

Cry tears of joy.

To be able to live to almost a hundred years of a life well-lived.

Makes you think of classic books like One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Or maybe curl up with the classic Love in the Time of Cholera.

If you sit with Lola and listen to her stories, 

We will know that life has never been easy for her as it will never be for any one of us.

But the life with all its trials and triumphs make the 94 years worth re-living.

She is 94 today.

She has had 94 years of Ups and Downs.

And she plans to live on to a hundred and more.

We hope to share more years with her.

And make each day count.

For the dreams.

For the past that we lived through.

For the present that never fails to inspire us all.

Cheers!

We love you Lola Donya.

I hope one day, when I am old and grey, I would also get to tell a million amazing stories to my daughter (s)(and sons), grand children and great grand children!

I hope one day soon, I'll be able to find my own Florentino too.

My Breaking Dawn

Yesterday, I had the chance to stand in court and testify to the nullity of the marriage that barely existed.
My legs were literally shaking when I was called to the stand.

It didn't help that the room was full of people I don't recognize, because these people are about to hear one of the most private moments in my life.

It didn't help  that I was the only woman (apart from this one lady lawyer) not wearing slacks, because it made me feel like either the dress made me look like a stuck up or a snob. or simply out of place.

It didn't help that no matter how I kept my head down, there is always this one person who would look at me and make me feel like they know.

It didn't help that I had to say my name- and explain my relation to the person who performed the marriage civil rights. It made all things complicated.

But shaky legs, shaky hands and heartbeat pounding in my ears, I swore to tell the truth. And nothing but.

So I did.

(No matter how embarrassing it was.)

It was a good hour of non-stop questions, from the most obvious to the confusing.
Some questions made my hands shake like a leaf, some just drew blank stares from me.
Other questions made me relive the past, the others made me smirk (ok, maybe laugh a bit inside).

The drill went from:

Lawyer: In the Marriage Contract presented to this court, do you recognize the name (*****)?
Me: Yes.
Lawyer: What is your relationship with (name)?
Me: Silence. (I'm thinking, what IS my relationship with this man? I barely know him!)
Lawyer repeats the question.
Me: Husband? (me rolling my eyes in confusion and of course, in my mind only)

And the judge managed to smile. (LOLZ) - maybe inwardly smirk like me too. haha!

To

Lawyer: Is (name) your first boyfriend?
Me: (what's the relevance of this question again?) No.
Lawyer: Compared to your other boyfriends, how was he?
Me: (Seriously?!! How do you want me to answer that? LOL at crazy thoughts) SILENT.
Lawyer raises an eyebrow.
Me: He's okay. (SAFE!)
Lawyer: Okay what?
Me: (WTF.) Okay, in the sense that we didn't quarrel much. (Really. lolz)

To the clincher:

After asking the counsels to sit, the judge turns to me and motioned for me to stay put on the stand.
Judge: So, the reason for your separation is (*****)
Me: Yes. (And so many other things omitted)
Judge: Did you love him?
Me: (Wow, I haven't paused about this for a really long time already) Yes, I did.

Judge: Do you still love him now?
Me: (Without a doubt, or maybe for just a nano second there, I asked myself how I really feel now and then finally blurted a phrase I've always wanted to say honestly) Not anymore.

And that, my friends, I believe is my own breaking dawn.

I am no longer trapped in the wheel of my what if's and regrets. Five years worth of tears, now simply broken down and laid out to me in about 8 pages of petition and testimony. And all questions I kept repeating to myself have seemingly been answered by a 5 page report of a medical expert.

The process has not really broken dams of truth or enlightenment, but the whole procedure, the whole testifying and telling my honest side (okay, a part of my side) of the story to a bunch of strangers is, surprisingly liberating.

And as I walked out of that courtroom, I, for the life of me, am finally, truly, really sure of my NOT Anymore.

Thank you, Heaven.

Hugs from the Heavens

I had a restful sleep last night.
And in my sleep, I believe God spoke to me.

It has been a difficult few days- and I've had trouble sleeping: worrying too much, running after options that seem to be out of reach and almost panicking that things are just spiraling downwards from here.

I worried that the problems will not end, and I worry more that we will give up. I am worried that my strength will not be enough to support the other.

But I know now, I am wrong.

Before I closed my eyes at night I did what I usually do at the end of each good night prayer. I asked the heavens to allow me to have a good sleep and be able to give this mind and body the much needed rest.

So I can think straight today.
I can see solutions like detour signs with smiley faces.
I can understand the nature of the challenges and tackle everything like an eager fighter.

So I can reinforce my faith....

Last night, I simply asked for comfort.

And I dreamt the strangest, most simple dream.

Me and little girl were in the backseat of the car, with Manong driving us to her school. There, the drive was a long one, about half an hour or so. In this dream, I was aware of the feeling of peacefulness as I sat and thought to myself of how much I love these morning rides.

On the left side from my window, I eagerly took in the wonderful view. (Yes! The drive to school had a view!)

At the bottom of the rolling hill and across where my eye could see, there was a beautiful beach-island, with sparkling clear blue waters and corals peeking out in every wave. There were small town folks like me- sitting on make-shift benches, running across the shore, trying to sunbathe. It was a slow day

And I remember telling myself that we should come here for the holidays, as I am sure it should be magical.

We continued to drive by with that mental note and I remember anticipating to reach the school at the next curve. Yet, we strangely found ourselves driving uphill. It was a scary hill, because its elevation was so steep it almost felt like a 90 degrees climb. And at this point, strangely, I was the one on the drivers' seat - but with no controls.

Manong was on the passenger side and little girl is still at the back, sifting through her notes reviewing for her achievement exams.

Then in the middle of the hard climb, the car stopped to pick up one passenger whose face I cannot clearly see from my side of the window. As I sat bewildered, watching manong move out of the seat and me suddenly finding the wheel and shift materializing before my eyes, I panicked how I do not know how to run this car uphill. I gripped the wheel tighter and braced for the worse. (it's a fact that I am scared of traffic at flyovers. I am certain I will come rolling down crashing.)

There was no hand-break! (I must have been throwing fits on the bed at this point)

As the woman climbed in the passenger seat, I watched little girl at the backseat and closed my eyes thinking we're falling any second now.

But in this dream, I- suddenly, in that moment, realized that even if the hand-break isn't engaged, the car won't go rolling backward, downhill. If I remember, my one foot was heavily on the breaks.

The woman smiled and got in and sat herself comfortably.

It was my sister.

And then we slowly made our way up the hill, the three of us in the little car.

I woke up really early today, with tears in my eyes. And I quickly said my prayer of thanks and sat for a long while thinking how I am one hundred percent sure that things are turning for the better.

I have underestimated the power of prayers more than once in this life, and I always end up being amazed every time God personally talks to me in more ways than one too.

Sometimes,we just have to be more aware of his words and his message for us to find comfort in whatever uphill battle we are going through.

Today, I am thankful for the comfort. For my friends who have always been here for the three of us. For the family that never leaves. For the opportunities that keep popping, like mushrooms that cannot be ignored (hehe). For the beautiful music we can play today/

I am thankful for the morrow, because things always are better in the morrow.

Well, isn't today a better day than yesterday? :)

Weekend ramblings and plans

Carrie Bradshaw and her fabulous unruly curls.

sigh.

Tartan is <3 p="p">

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I went to the salon a few days back to try to have my curls chopped.

I wanted my old hair back, I wanted straight, manageable, tinted brown hair again.

Kinda Like this.

Because every time I look at myself in the mirror and see this almost-ash blonde curls residing on my head, I get the urge to shave them all off.

But I left without letting the hairdresser touch my hair.

Because after browsing too many hairstyle designs (pixie short, Winona Ryder short),

I realized I'll live through the curls better.

Even if it looks like this.

And so I surfed the net for better ways in taking control and taking care of my damage strands.

I checked out new outfits to give my hair a break.

I cut-out clippings of new dress design ideas to make for me and little girl's Holidays uniform.

Anything to get my mind off a lot of things (and off my hair)!

Because --- Yes, I have always felt that changing hairstyle is jump-starting an otherwise boring life. (Thus, the curls, and the pseudo-dilemma)

Now, instead of trying to do the damage control and reverting back to the old one and badgering the invisible  wall back into the comfort zone, I embrace this change.

I embrace my wild curls. And convince myself that I have found ten thousand ways to tame it, style it, love it even.

I take back the want to return to the old past.

I tell myself:

I can look like Carrie Bradshaw (wild hair and huge flower pins and all HaHa)

and look fabulous and beautiful.

If all else fail, I say w:ith utmost sincerity and resignation:

Eventually, the curls will grow out and eventually, I will find a new hairstyle to jump-start my again boring life. lolz

Drama!

On the other part of weekend, me and little girl decided and promised to stay home.

To do stuff together at home, do chores, do homework, watch movies, and review for her achievement exams on Monday.

Our first tasks this sweltering, lazy Saturday was:

Find Manong Taho for an early morning Taho and Sago

Wash the car

Make fish Inun-on for lunch

Write a chapter (mine) -- yes, I finally managed to find the perfect excuse to write about my shit and actually get paid for it! hahaha

Study Phonetics (hers)

and Sleep a good two-hour nap.

So far, I've written only two pages worth of ramblings and some honest research.

If I want to beat the deadline my writing employer (actually myself) has indicated, I need to pull an all-nighter.

Yet here I am, dreaming of a good duyan, listening to Jack Johnson and the trucks driving by

and slowly finding the last note on the TO Do list to be unarguably inviting.

How's weekend looking for you? 

Tough Cookie

It was a tough day at work today.

It was utter chaos.


Today,

(1) I've been screamed at by irate clients THREE times.
And yet, they're mad not because of me, but of some other lousy department's inefficiency.
But as a result, they are mad AT me.

This is because they rationalize that the other department isn't different from me.
For all they care, even if I am A and the other department is B, we are A=B.

WTF.

All I could manage to say was: I understand.

But I don't!!!
I f**n don't!

(2) Lost and found an important document after an agonizing hour of searching through my garbage of files.
Just because I forgot I already prepared it at the start of the day.

(3) Did work that is supposedly mine, because people demand that we "walk the extra mile"; so people have the right to impose their brattiness.  Hei, I don't mind doing the extra leg you know, but please, please ask nicely. I am not a f**n robot.

(4)  Waiiiiiiiteeeeeed for one department to do their work. because that's what they do, always make me wait. (I seem to be always last on the priority, though they say I'm not);

(5) A consistently irate client is having another waive of problems, and insisted that she doesn't want to speak to anyone but me because nobody listens to her anymore (and she bullies me to listen to her); then when I tell her I cannot answer something I cannot explain, because I did not do or facilitate, she tells me I'm a fucking liar. (Seriously? ambooooott!!!)

Pretty much having the worst day of my life. almost worst.


I wanted to cry. Cry out of frustration. Cry because I feel like I should have known (and anticipated the next requirement). Cry because I was tired. Cry because I don't appreciate being insulted or talked down.

Cry because no matter how hard I try, it just doesn't work out easy.
And also cry because things didn't go the way I expected them to.

I cannot shake off the feeling that I must not be doing enough as I always seem to be running after transaction, trying to beat deadlines and encountering ten million road blocks.

I cannot shake off the feeling that everything is MY fault.

God, if you see my file room, it's one big garbage pit.
My table is a mess.
The folders are a mile high.
My pending is neck deep.
My email is all red.
My mobile phones are dead.

And every time I try to clean up the files, set time to organize, I get up to send a report. Because everything is urgent.
Get up to answer the phone. fax a document. photocopy a document. email a document. (and eat a document!)
Get up to meet an agent. client. messenger. (and king. hari. primadonna.)
Get up to assist an existing client who insists on being serviced like a king, because his _ couldn't. (and the other department would just say, we're short of manpower. YEAAAHHH really? tell me about it.)
Get up to address my clients' conerns;-- concerns which I couldn't really do something about. (except say, I'll help you follow through with them  then everything will eventually blow up in my face)

And it's consuming. It's depressing.

It's depressing that I don't get to get my act together.

I wish I could

Keep my desk clean - paper free, dust free.
Keep the file room arranged and in order.
Sit and smile at courteous clients- who mind their manners and proper conduct. (I'm not your f**n yaya, you know)
Laugh with the agents. (Now I can't even give them five minutes of chika because I'm too busy :( )
Send reports on time.
Pay my bills on time.

Where the hell did those kinds of days go?

But you know, I'm a tough cookie.
I claim to be.

I cry tonight. I rant. I will sleep early.
Tomorrow, I will grab the day by it's horns and things better work out.

Otherwise, it's gonna be a helluva week.

So you know, if you're a client (of some resto, boutique, financial institution or bakery),
please try to be nice.

A small thank you, please, i'm sorry goes a long way.
Not raising your voice is a sign of respect.
It doesn't kill you to be mindful of the words that you speak.

It doesn't hurt to smile at people you encounter, and just be nice.

Cover Girl

I felt extra beautiful today.

That's a rare emotion these days. So, to celebrate vanity, I spent a good half hour taking self-portraits that are anything but artistic. Quite raw, actually; no edits, no tinkering- Not even a poster-collage of sorts from the mobile app.

And I feel quite happy with the results.

Not because I think I've achieved the glossy-magazine standard.

But maybe because, I have realized that despite of that non-achievement, I appreciate myself.

So today's self-validation mantra is: I am beautiful. (No matter what they say.)

Five years ago, I stopped buying fashion magazines. Primarily because I wanted to keep the expenses at the most minimum possible. As I sat on my desk one night, I realized I spend about P1,200 every year for something that I browse once then shelf and shove and then ultimately forgotten. (1,200 to put into little girl's account instead)

Secondly, sometimes, most of the time the magazine just make me feel: not good enough, not rich enough, not beautiful enough, not living enough.

Nothing is enough!

So I decided to quit the addiction, even if not for good, but for a good long while. And so..

I stopped buying, and started looking in. and I stopped asking myself these questions:

Am I really that fat?
Am I really better with blonde-wash hair?
Am I really prettier with the new chiffon dress and peep toes?
Am I really gonna be good enough?

I tried re-inventing the physical attributes. Danced to lose weight. Ate to gain a few. Dyed the hair ash blonde. Cut it short. Curl. Dabbled on the different make-up and yes, finally, found the perfect foundation.

Just to give in to the madness of finding myself- and my home.

And after five long years, I started to love the imperfections that I have.
Not because I have given up on trying to be better, but because I feel that my imperfection is the source of my beauty.

Doesn't the flaw point out the perfect other part?

I haven't completely pulled away from the glitz of fashion blogs and magazines, I still subscribe to my favorite shops' tweets. But I have (finally) stopped the never-ending self-scrutiny.

I have accepted that I will never be 100 lbs again.
I have learned the best hairstyle to frame my round face and down-play the cheek bones.
I have found that the dresses and shoes don't make the statement, but the way they are carried do.
I realized I will never be good enough, because I am already better!

The moment I decided to forget what other people had to say about my weight, my fashion, my preferences, and accepted the whole of me without but's and prejudice, I have become the person I have always wanted to be: comfortable in my own skin.

It was a long journey though, with a million up's and a more million down's. But we all age. And we all get to the point, sooner or later, that we find that the only opinion that will matter is our own (and maybe our cheerleading/inspirational/comical other person whom we consider a whole of our whole.)

Precisely because the voice in our hearts, is the only voice who can make or break. And become master of our souls.

The road to acceptance is almost a lonely journey so I guess it also doesn't hurt to have a person (just one is fine) who will look at you and love you like you've always been the cover girl you always were.

Someone who will do the ra ra ra and kiss you and love you even if you got a huge zit sitting on your nose.

I am blessed to have found this one person. Who said I am pretty "with or without make-up"; "no tummy or super fat tummy";

My one person is sleeping soundly now, with her little foot sneaking out of her now-small blankie.
My number one fan, and my primary reason why I feel beautiful.

I must be someone beautiful to have a daughter as beautiful as the day and as serene as the night.

Good night, lovely mommies. <3 nbsp="nbsp">

We are beautiful!

(And oh btw, I have started buying magazines again -- it's not their fault I had a gazillion questions and insecurities lolz)

Respite

The long weekend is almost over.

But it was a weekend well-spent.

Little girl and I visited Mama, Lolo and Nanay last All Souls' Day. We picked flowers, added a few orchids to the arrangements and lit candles and said prayers for our departed loved ones.

Little girl was up and about the past four days. She woke up early and reminded this mommie of the the days' itinerary and must do's. 

She said the prayers beautifully too.

Normally, All Souls Day leave me feeling hollow, as I sit and watch the lighted candles, I would feel the longing and the wondering of how things would have turned out if my Mama was able to stay a few more years with us. 

There was still a bit of that pain and longing, but this year, I only brought happy stories to my mom. Stayed for a while to tell her of the highlights of the year; our little achievements and left knowing that she would have loved the beautiful flower arrangements and the biko me, my sister and little girl offered.

I also shared some of the things that have bothered me as I go on this journey of solo-parenthood.

And asked myself how would she see things and maybe shed some light to a number of things running in my head.

The annual family tradition of remembering our departed loved ones is a deeply-rooted Filipino practice. We were joined by a million other families visiting the tombs of their deceased and each family has a unique practice of honoring the memory of the dead.

 I wanted to introduce little girl to this tradition of respect for the elderly and to inculcate the values of close family ties. And I wanted to pass on to her the practices I grew up with. Because I am proud to have been shaped by these memories.

I told her stories I learned from my mom.

Told her about the grandparents she wasn't able to fully know.

Shared the moments of just sitting and watching the candle light dance.

And I am happy to see little girl immerse herself in the family gatherings.

And feel the solid bond that has held this extended family for years.

We also had a share of our long weekend palanay.

We spent it watching Pirates of the Carribean re-runs, continued the halloween scary stories and ate lots of chips (lolz) but completely forgot our weekend dose of Cornetto.

We forgot to finish memorizing the poem she's going to recite on Friday. (yikes)

But we don't want to think about it right now.

We spent the last two days of the long week-end with cousins.

Drove around town for a good dose of CDO original chicken.

Milk Tea.

Pizza.

Laughter.

Crazy stories.

My Niece Q left this morning to go back to school for the second sem.

And as we spent the entire night talking about a number of things

from the crazy past, the funny moments, the sad memories,

the issues of today, the future plans

I am amazed at how she has grown into this mature and responsible lady.

She dished out opinion about my "decisions" and agreed to a number of things I have maintained.

And as I listened to her share stories of her experiences in school, with new friends, old friends, I daydreamed about little girl being in College soon too.

Wow, i'd be one of the craziest and happiest moms ever. lolz

It was a good long weekend. 

Good enough (actually better than expected) to sustain us til the next one creeps in.

Back to reality in a few hours!