Silver and Platinum

DB squinted through the heavily tinted window of the Mercedes which was parked in front of the Shrine, trying hard to get a glimpse of the girl in off-white gown inside. Fed up of the futile exercise, he walks off and looks around for familiar faces. Guests with smiling faces composed of family, relatives and friends were sprinkled here and there around the church. He bumps into their friend Bumblebee and he solicits for a cigarette to overcome the nervousness that was creeping inside as he felt the need to barf.

GM sat motionless rather than poised inside the car. She felt nothing of the knotted stomach, it was empty but she felt no hunger, only a long blank, and no fluttering butterflies inside. She touches her neck and suddenly feels worried; she forgot to wear the necklace her mother had given her as a wedding present.

DB looks at GM intently and takes her hand. He nervously puts the platinum bond on GM’s left ring finger. GM looks at him and recognizes that this person is indeed that one that brings calm to her turbulent nature. She traces his face and feels quite proud and wishes hard that their future children would inherit DB’s sovereign nose. She smiles some more as she sees DB’s hand, he still wore the old silver on his left ring finger, the one they used to sport as a new couple and he never took it off. And so his wedding ring was placed next to it. She then whispers to herself, “This is the best day of my life!”

Happy 7 years Bee! Thank you and I love you!

vivi, ama e ridi,

Whispered prayer

I choose to believe that I am going to hurdle whatever life throws at me. I know it’s going to be hard and sometimes painful but I choose to grit my teeth and go on. I believe that I am in the middle of a birthing process, tiring, arduous and excruciating, but there is something good coming out of it. I believe that this too shall pass.

I pray for more courage.

I pray for humility.

I pray for clarity of the mind.

I pray for other people’s kindness.

Most of all, I pray for the Lord’s healing hands.

Notes from G.M.

I only realized last Sunday that my son has indeed grown-up. No matter if I have to shop for a new set of pajamas twice in a matter of 6 months as he was getting taller everyday, I just did not notice it. Even when he picked up Grisham’s A Time to Kill and reads the cover and copyright page with the proper pronunciation and crisp tone, I still did not notice. I was taken aback with pride of course, I thought “Wow! He reads perfectly." Still, I did not acknowledge it to the fact that he has grown up, after all he just turned 6 last August. When you’re a Mom or a Dad, I guess you are in complete denial that your once tiny baby is growing up before your eyes and you just can't process it as fast as it happens. Well that was not until Sunday…

While waiting for Dada in the parking lobby, Sharkboy (SB)and Baby Diva (BD) asked for their new books. A little girl with an angel’s face about my sons’ age suddenly approached our bench and sat beside them. It’s really cool to be a kid, you make and become friends in a heartbeat, and she was getting along well with SB and BD browsing through SB’s dinosaur book. After 10 minutes or so, Angelface gets bored, gets up and walks away, my SB takes notice and gets up from his seat as well and exclaims, “Hey! Do you want me to read to you the names of the dinosaurs?” I could not keep myself from chuckling. SB got a pick-up line and what can I say? T'was good and somewhat geeky but still it was good. He has indeed grown up. Did he get Angelface to go back? That’s another story.

vivi, ama e ridi,

Note from P.Ink

P.Ink is in hibernation. She is buried under a lot of concerns and pressures. She hopes to get out of it as soon as possible. It looks like she's taking her adult role too seriously but she hopes to get back in shape and be P.Ink again (who does more than ponder but also resolves to make time for herself.)

What you don't know about me...

I am anti-social. I cringe at the thought that I would stand in the middle of a big party, sipping wine or fruit cocktail, making small talk, its just not my kind of thing. I rather spend my time in a bookstore browsing or in a corner café reading my favorite book and even my not so favorite book than attend some bash where I am compelled to brush elbows with strangers whom I pretend to remember their first names, though I’m quite sure I’m not alone with this predicament. I would also want to make myself clear that I do not have something against this type of large-scale socialization, my skin is just not made for it. I observed that every time there is a chance for me to hobnob, I experience a skin breakout and no amount of erythromycin could ease it. I realize I’m better stuck with Umberto Eco trying hard to digest his books than be left helpless in the middle of partying people. 

I am a stickler for discipline. I am the one who takes the long route to get to the pedestrian lane where I could safely cross the street (at least that is what I believe.) I can endure long lines in the grocery store and turn into Mrs. Hyde when a loser forces entry in the neatly lined maze of people. Deadlines for me are sacred, I adhere to it and ensure that everybody complies with it. However there is an exception, I bend the rules when it comes to my children to the point of spoiling them. This is surprising as I am inclined to give in easily to their wishes no matter how trivial and yes, sometimes unreasonable. Good thing, my husband who appears sweet and all, turned out to be the disciplinarian.  

I am sort of a “closet-queen” shoe-lover. I may appear like I don’t care about fashion nor don’t have anything to do with it as I can put on anything that comes out of my closet in a morning rush but I cannot do without shoes. I love shoes particularly flat shoes, ankle boots, wedge sandals and kitten heel pumps. I wear one pair then stuff another pair in my bag and keep another pair in my office drawer so I could easily change shoes when my mood changes as well. I wear flats when I am relaxed; heels or boots when I am up for a challenge; and sandals when I feel lazy to dress-up. Honestly, a new pair of shoes can only quell a hard day’s work and brooding frustrations for me. 

 

I love gardening. My father, the original green thumb, might laugh at this one but its true I discovered that I love planting vegetables in the backyard. The weekend we moved in to the Tango House, I planted some vegetables in a patch of soil and found it a stress reliever. This discovery has ignited my interest to pursue a grander planting program that would provide vegetable supply and fruits in the long-term.

I stopped drinking Coke for 3 months already. This is hard for me, I was a caffeine and sugar junkie since aged 7. If some people smoke or drink liquor to pass time, well my only vice is Coke. Then why did I stop? I did it for my health and peace of mind after I realized that I could not write without Coke’s sugar-induced energy boost. Writing is important to me and to associate it with my only vice is not good - it is terrible. As the good old saying goes, when you write make sure it comes from the heart (cheesy but true).

The Chalkboard

Some things scare me…or to put it more accurately…certain things trigger the recall of a scary moment in my life. Just moments ago, I realized that something like a whiteboard could bring out a scary memory I have abandoned deeply in the hidden corners of my mind.

A big flip-type whiteboard was delivered to our office. The deliveryman left in a jiffy leaving it behind without any assembly manual or instruction. To break the icy atmosphere as our office has transformed into Siberian tundra via air-conditioning, I joined some of my officemates assembling it.

For others the whiteboard is nothing but a white board, for me it is analogous to a chalkboard, which resembles the giant cruel chalkboard of my childhood. It happened when I was 4 or 5 years old. Though I grew up in my Grandmother’s house, I also spent some time tottering to my mother’s workplace. It was a usual practice that my mother would bring me to her office but there was one single moment that I will never forget.

I met a little girl, we were of the same age, she was also a kid of one the employees. We decided to play “teacher-teacher” when we took fancy of the big and solid chalkboard in front of the building while our mothers were working inside. First scene, she took the role of the teacher and I took my position sitting in the front stairs as the pupil. Second scene, a strong gust of wind came and all of a sudden the chalkboard toppled over onto the little girl, pinning her down helplessly. Third scene, a large commotion followed, I saw a lot of people coming out of their rooms, they seem to run towards me and I felt I was blamed for getting the girl into that situation, though in reality they were running towards her, to rescue her. I could not remember what happened next though I can still remember that scary feeling, a mixed emotion of anxiety, confusion and pain. I stood there in the middle of ogling and nosy people, overwhelming me with a lot of questions I could not bring myself to answer.

I never saw the little girl again. I could not even remember her name or her face as if she completely disappeared from my sight when the chalkboard fell down on her with my very eyes. Last I heard which was ages ago from my mother, the little girl paid for that incident dearly, she suffered a bone fracture that resulted to a permanent damage. That day though, not only one little girl got herself crushed, there was also the other one, the one who stood in perfect horror.

Silence

Silence...I just love it but it’s not right when you occupy a space in the blogosphere and suddenly you become inconspicuously quiet. December for me was the busiest month both for the work and home department. I am very guilty of becoming an organized pack rat to the point of drying up my creativity well. Maybe unconsciously, this was an expression of my craving for order in our disgruntled and chaotic environment. I have been too preoccupied with listing, packing, filing, buying, wrapping, segregating, discarding, etc. I even forgot to put down my thoughts into this blog.

I spent the entire month of December packing and unpacking – Christmas decors, luggage for 2 adults and 2 children with special requirements (e.g. baby formula, anti-allergy meds, favourite toys, nebulizer, stroller, etc.) that got me carried away when I struggled between taking or not taking our reliable electric sterilizer as well; listing and delisting (stocks?! how I wish) my TTDs (things to do) and TTBs (things to bring/buy) including a wardrobe schedule per family member to reduce the number of clothes packed as well as number of travel bags; wrapping and unwrapping presents to & from family, friends and foe (not literally though); performing 5S in my office area and in the house; and last but not the least, enjoying my OC streak as if it was the finest idea and noblest thing to do on earth during those moment of fervent possession.

Through it all, I would like to thank my family and friends who stood by me and even tolerated my version of leisure. And what’s more to love with December were the gift-hunting, food trips, vacations and travels that strengthen the bonds of family and friendship.

To Hubby’s family and mine, thank you very much for the wonderful vacations in HK and Isabela. Christmas and New Year celebrations were made meaningful because we were all completely together. We made it with young children in tow, heavy luggage, jam-packed subways, biting cold, overheating Charlie Brown (family van) and all.

To my friends for sharing a new-found addiction such as new book page-sniffing; my fellow pen-eraser-notebook collectors intending to apply as transient residents of Fully Booked in G5, thanks for the amazing company, heart-warming exchanges on parenthood and family life and encouraging words. Year 2009 was indeed a rollercoaster ride for us but we’re still here. Isn’t it that life becomes sweeter when Fully Booked is just around the corner?

And now, after having the best vacation in years, I welcome 2010 with a strong heart. There is no space for mediocrity.