Right!

Seventy-five dollars for less than 2 minutes of work, I say locksmiths are doing very well.

And how do I know this?

Because I locked the hub and I out of our house this afternoon.

“How did you manage to lock yourselves out?” Bob the locksmith asked me.

“Ah, by sheer stupidity,” I answered, smiling.

Actually, what it was was I was ridin’ pretty high on my Norco medication.  The hub gave me narcotics (the kind that one can get addicted to) for the sharp and excruciating pain in my back, the result of my bathroom spill last week.   None of the other pain killers helped much, and in fact, I wake up each morning wincing in agonizing pain, taking very slow movements as I get out of bed.  I wonder, how do people with constant and chronic pain live this kind of live every day?  And with that, even in my present state, I whisper a word of thanks because I know in time, my pain will end.

So we were in the car, ready to go to dinner, when I realized I forgot something.  So I got the keys from the hub (car and house key in one keyholder), ran back inside, got my thingy, and hurriedly went back to the garage, locking the door behind me.  I got inside the car and before I even realized it, the hub said, “Nakalimtan nimo ang yawi sa sud?!”

My Norco high went out the car window, and adrenaline kicked right in.

After apologizing profusely to the hub and kicking myself for my huge blunder, we looked around for a phone directory.  Thankfully, there was one just lying around in the garage.

Forty minutes later, Bob arrived.  And in less than 5 minutes, we managed to wrap up the whole transaction with a check made out to Affordable Lock and Key for $75.

“With that money, nakapalit na unta ta’g Cuisinart nga blender…”

“Lagi, lagi, sala lagi nako.”

“Naka-save ta sa atong cancellation sa gym membership pero didto ra sad nahapak sa locksmith.”

“Lagi, lagi…”

I will hear a few more of this in the coming days… but I guess I deserve it.  But come to think of it, I didn’t ask him for the Norco.  So it’s his fault, right?

Right?

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Bato-Bato sa Langit…

June 28, 2008

Imagine my surprise when an old classmate from my elem days chatted me up, and from out of the blue he said, “Pakit-a ko sa imong Friendster beh kay naa tay classmate ning-ingon nga Dabiana na kuno kaayo ka.”

DABIANA.  The shock of that single word.

I will not try to defend myself against it.  Will not post here my height versus weight ratio to prove otherwise.  Will not waste my breath justifying why, indeed, I’m not as rail thin as I was during my elem throughout my post-college days.  Will not even take down the suspect photos I’ve posted in Friendster that might have triggered that comment.

No, everything stays.  And let that person say what he/she wants to say.  I’m sure he/she has a perfect body — with washboard abs, toned arms and legs, a perky butt — and a beautiful face to match.  I am TOTALLY POSITIVE he/she has every right to call me or anyone DABIANA.

And no, I am not being sarcastic.  LOL.

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The Clumsy Wifey

June 27, 2008

Picture if you will a woman, barefoot, feet wet from a premature trip to the shower, scurrying across the tiled floor to get a bottle of shampoo after finding out the one she has in the shower stall is all squeezed out — and then, before she knew it, she slips and goes down with a big thud.  There is that slow-mo feeling of “oh no, I am off the ground and will come down hard and will break my neck in the process.”

A tad too dramatic, I know.  How it went was I landed on my left elbow and a big part of my left butt.  And because I must have tensed up during that slow-mo moment, my neck and back are stiff and so when I turn my head, my whole body has to go with it.  And it hurts.  Big time.

Not cool.

The hubs, who was sleeping peacefully a few feet away, jumped from bed when he heard the  thud, asking if I was all right.  It was all there — the fear — in his voice.  Because he said it could have gone the other way, as in 911-and-all-that-drama other way.  Because a few feet from where I landed was a sharp corner, and I could have hit my head there if my guardian angel had not been watching over me.

I shudder at the thought.

So this — robot-like movements when I turn my head — it’s all right.  I am even waiting eagerly for the bruises to bloom in my elbow and left bottom, because it means these are all I have to live with in the next couple of days.  As opposed to, you know, 911 and all that drama.

Remind me to wear slippers when I walk across that tiled floor.  This time, to get a bottle of conditioner.  Because I think I just ran out of it, and I am pretty sure I will forget until I am halfway through my next shower.

——-

As further proof of my clumsiness, I just scraped the side of my left leg on the corner of our platform bed.  Said leg now sports an ugly red gash.

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Reno, or How I Got My Groove Back

I agreed to the trip quite begrudgingly. A two-hour drive and a one-night stay at a hotel with a friend.

(I didn’t want to leave the hubs.)

The city itself was small, and the weather hot enough to leave my friend B and I dehydrated and exhausted after just two hours of driving around and checking out what the city had to offer in the way of shopping. We literally ran from the parking lot to our hotel room — and oh, isn’t air-conditioning just the best thing since sliced bread?

But I could let slide the city’s small-town air and the biting heat, because cocooned inside our hotel was one of the most happening lounges. Between two friends getting tipsy over their cosmopolitans and an electric crowd, what could have made the night more perfect?

Perhaps the fact that, just when I least expected it, and in the most unlikely of places (haven’t I long ago given up on the bar scene, if I ever did fully participate in it in the first place?), I got my groove back.

Yeah, baby!

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recalls

What is a taco without fresh salsa?

Not that good. But with the recent tomato recall, I’d have to do with medium salsa, which, apparently, does not have fresh tomatoes in it. The reason for recall: salmonella.

This is what amazes me about this country, how proactive the government is when it comes to food or product safety. Thousands of toys have been recalled due to lead content. A while back, beef was recalled because of animal cruelty. Spinach was also recalled not long ago because of E. coli.

I love my fresh salsa, but I love it more that I am safe and looked out for.

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taking note

Today, Governor Schwarzenegger declared a drought in the state of California and warned of rationing.

Today, while driving by a gas station, the hub and I noted that the price of gas per gallon just went up another 10 cents from yesterday ($4.37-4.47).

I just wanted to take note of that.

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magic mirrors, perhaps?

One month to go and I’ve only lost two pounds. Two measly pounds, instead of the ten I swore I’d lose or die trying.

Am I sad about it?

Days ago, I might have been. But I’ve learned that these things take time, and there’s no way around it but by being consistent and most of all, patient.

Meanwhile, I have to deal with mirrors (around the house) that are the opposite of anorexic. See, they give me the illusion that my thighs and my arms are thin and long. That, yeah, I do have a little paunch right here but I still look hot in this tank top. And see, my butt looks cute in these jeans.

And then I step into the real world with real mirrors and, horror of horrors, WHY DID I WEAR THIS?

Well, at least, in my world, my mirrors are kind to me.

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games

It’s funny how, whenever I step out of the house for a couple of hours to run some errands and after I’ve caused enough ruckus with the garage door and turning the alarm off and opening the door that leads from the garage to the dining room, I gleefully announce, “Honey, I’m home!”

It’s funny because the hub is gone the whole day, 14 hours to be exact, and when he goes through that door, he never says a thing.

I guess you could say, there are days when I feel very self-important.

He knows enough to say, “Hi bebe! I’m so glad you’re home!”

Ah, these little games we play.

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“they sound like angels to me,” a voice behind me said.

The hub, my aunt, uncle and I went to see the Loboc Children’s Choir perform at our church tonight.

This group of 21 children aged 8-13 sang like angels, their faces full of hope, wonder, and innocence. I looked around me and found only delight in the audience’s eyes, their lips blooming into smiles, their hands at the ready to applaud at the end of each song.

I have never been more proud to be Filipino, and even more so, a Boholana.

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today

Full days rarely happen to me, so today was a treat.

My friend B and I drove and drove around the city, dreaming of big beautiful houses with sweeping views of the lake. We sat in living rooms, looked out of huge glass windows, touched every texture of fabric in drapes and beds and bathrooms, daintily fingered shiny kitchen countertops and swore we’d one day live next to each other.

We held on to our coffee cups as we sat on huge rocks by the lake, loudly apologizing to the ducks for not bringing day-old bread. A woman told us they love cherries too. Two boys attempted to fish, while a pair of lovers dipped their feet in the cold water. In the distance, a man glided through the still waters in his blue kayak.

Evening found us at a friend’s house. She had just given birth. As I look at her baby’s tiny feet and hands, at his innocent face, my heart soared. Every child is, indeed, a miracle. How can one look at a baby and not believe in God?

I was almost sorry I didn’t bring my camera. But I know my heart will remember everything.

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