mini-thoughts after my hiatus

thanks to all who have been for praying for my sister. i was telling her, in room 6 of north 6 surgical oncology ward of the robert wood johnson hospital in new brunswick, that of all the patients being operated on last monday, she was the one most drenched in prayers. the next day after the surgery, i was surprised to see her being able to sit up and move her arms a bit. it wasn't really that difficult being her on-call "nurse" at the hospital because all i had to do then was order her food, help her stand up to go to the bathroom, drain the blood being collected from the tube on her surgery site[okay, for the squeamish, that last part might be hard to visualize. sorry.] now while she's home my duties are more varied. aside from the draining, i prepare her in-the-bedroom meals, remind her to take her meds, shampoo her hair [and blowdry it], and watch tv with her--with the last being the easiest task. no sweat, really. :)

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the number of goods, products and services here in the US is overwhelming. when we go to the grocery, i walk the aisles and see every product imaginable. i turn on the tv and aside from the QTV channel offering things from acne treatment to jewelry, i also see lawyers advertising their services. one in particular ended his spiel with these words: "get all the money you deserve." seriously. oh man, filipino lawyers would have a field day here.

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i still do some cooking here whenever i get the chance. just this lunchtime, i cooked the leftover crabs from yesterday and turned it into an crab/red pepper omelette. what i'm missing is baking though. you don't need to go to a bakeshop to buy cakes here. so there's really not much motivation to make one from scratch. what about fish? you can't see fish with their eyes on here. [well, technically, most fish on the frozen meat section are fillets, so what they're actually missing are the heads]. crazy what i notice.

the people? most people here are nice. especially those who might feel you need them to be extra clear about what they're saying lest you don't understand english. "No ingrish.me japanese.moshi-moshi," but they won't buy it. my eyes aren't chinky enough.

Not about me

My eldest sister will be undergoing surgery three days from now. At this very moment, she's in the other room, working from home with her laptop. An applications manager of a leading investment firm, she has always been an achiever. Always with a good head above her shoulders.

Friends who know about her condition would ask me how she is, and I always say, "She's doing OK. If you look at her, you wouldn't think she's sick." Even I am amazed at the normalcy she's exhibiting. Of course, the thought of the surgery is probably looming in her head but I don't notice that it bothers her. Yes, sometimes, offhand she'd quip that she's a little nervous but that's just about it. No crying spells, no staring in space.

She's the reason I'm here in the US. Last year, when she was diagnosed with cancer, I offered to fly here and be her children's nanny-slash-cook-slash-nurse if and when she goes through the surgery. This year, she took my offer. In no way I am trained medically but I have done my share of taking-care. In fact, I've been in two ambulance rides already, as a companion to the patients, and by God's grace, I still managed to think straight then. But stop, this is not about me.

Going back to my sister, her name is Nang, and many people are praying for her. In another state, an American author who hasn't even met her tells me they're praying for her. In another country--the Philippines--dozens more are praying. Thank you. You just don't know what this means to me, and her.

This woman is teaching me how to trust God unreservedly, to see the silver lining in the clouds, to be brave enough to learn everything about the enemy. Her faith did not waver in this health crisis and did not doubt for a second that God is good.

Some people can display courage and faith that seem larger than life. Yes, it's true. And this is not about me.

Fun Saturday

Yesterday, my sister Nang (more on her in future post/s) and I braved the snowstorm to go to NY. Two seats were waiting for us to be filled at the Marquis theater in Broadway. And two minutes before The Drowsy Chaperone, the musical within a comedy, start did we arrive.

It was hilarious and entertaining. I wonder how long actors rehearse before they can deliver flawless performances at Broadway. Incidentally, Lea Salonga is playing Fantine in another theater within the area. While walking along the snow-carpeted streets, I saw this poster which simply said: "She's Back." And then below the two words is the image associated with Les Miserables. [I wondered then if she was actually referring to Lea and today, that hunch was confirmed when I saw it splashed in a Philippine-American newspaper, with a reference to her underneath. Wow. Her presence was enough to make people come. She had that great drawing power. I am proud to be pinay. :)]

After a very late lunch at Pongsri, a Thai restaurant, we were walking towards the Port Authority when I saw this three-storey shop: M&M's world. Needless to say, we just had to go inside. Right across is the Hershey's store but it was boring compared to this shop. I never saw so many M&M's--and in every color imaginable (black, lavender, pink, aqua--name it!)--and other M&M's products under one roof. I could live here. Health-conscious people would advise: Eat your greens. In that case, I'm taking their advice. I won't mind eating all the green M&Ms here.

Look, it's a bird

Ian, 7, is doing his assignment. He asks me for words starting with letter Q and I almost told him, "Come back to me when you get to letter S."

Queen. Check, he got that one already.
Quota. No, too complicated. He doesn't know what it means.
Quail. Yes, that could work.

And then I spell it out for him. Q-U-A-I-L.

What's that Tita Beng, is that a bird or a noun? (Or so I heard. I'm blaming it on jetlag. And I think I slept a million braincells to oblivion.)

It's a bird, Ian. It's a bird.

No, Tita Beng. Is it a VERB or a noun?

(I laugh out loud and think, what good is it to have an editor aunt to teach you when she can't hear you?)

Here's another Q word. Q-tips, or in the Philippines, cottonbuds.

Collecting words

It’s one in the morning of my departure for the US, both of my luggages to be checked in are still open, while some of my clothes are strewn all over the living room.

So why am I blogging?

My fingers are prompted to glide across the keyboard, with the hopes of producing something sensible from the thirty minutes I am taking a break from packing. The forlorn character of Joe Pesci in the movie “With Honors” would collect pebbles to put in his pocket to remember significant moments in his life. This side of reality, somebody—me—chooses to collect words.

I just had one of the most stressful afternoons of my life. An author and an illustrator drop by the office to discuss a project with me which drags on until 15 minutes before my workday officially ends, a much-loved food—banana con hielo—is chilling for me in the freezer, a US-based friend I haven’t seen for three years surprises me with his appearance at our bookstore, and my desk is still a mess, with blueprints of books crying for my attention.

Thankfully, I survived the late-afternoon surge of stress that almost jolted the living daylights out of me. With much appreciation for reliable officemates, I was able to delegate work I couldn’t handle anymore. In record time, I swept my desk clean with a prayer uttered silently: “Lord, please don’t let me forget anything.” My only regret was not being able to taste even a spoonful of my snack.

But I did not regret catching up with J who waited for me till I called it quits with my day’s work. Over a dinner of Filipino food at Gerry’s Grill, we tried to cram three years’ worth of happenings over a few hours of talking. So many things have remained the same, yet so many things have changed too. Funny how life takes us in different directions and how in the middle of the road we stop and look back on where we once had been.

I think I’d end here. Several hours after I publish this post, I’d be sitting on a Northwest Airline cushioned seat. The next time my feet walks on the leveled ground again, something else will be making me breathless.

friendly fat detectors

I run into him every now and then. At the hallway, near the employee's entrance, in the bookstore. And just by the way he looks at me, I can sense how I'm tipping the [weighing] scale.

More than a few times already, he has verbalized his disappointment. Just this week, while I was walking towards a palette in our bookstore, he emerges from the door of the Sales department. For one split second our eyes lock. And then I get the look. He's not smiling. There goes my cue to confirm my worst fears:

"Why you looking at me like that, Kuya Jo? I'm getting fat?"

This fortysomething father of three doesn't even pause for a second to feign politeness. He answers, complete with a playful nod, "Yes, Beng. You better..." and then wags his index finger at me, as if warning me that the world is about to end.

I let out a laugh, not a bit hurt. Alarmed, maybe, but not hurt.

There are officemates who act as my fat detectors. They tell me if I'm getting fat or I'm getting thin, if I look fresh or harassed. But not one of them has actually pulled me to a corner and has given me a detailed lecture on the virtues of effective weight management. All most of them do is engage in light-hearted banters with me. No offense is ever taken. While Americans talk about the weather, we Filipinos talk about weight. Funny how we greet another whom we haven't seen in a while: "Uy, parang tumaba/pumayat ka ah!" Say that to a British and you'll be committing a faux pas that will make even your dog blush.

We Filipinos can take it. Just today I overheard a conversation between an old man and a middle-aged woman, former officemates: "Uy, parang tumaba ka nang konti ah," he comments to her. "Naku, Kuya, di lang konti. Madami!" she answers with a smile on her face. Score 1 for total honesty.

As for me, when I get an in-my-face-weight-reading I think: What do I need a weighing scale for? I can get free head-to-toe evaluation just by walking around the four floors of our office. Amusing, really. I love my officemates.

I'm never trading any of my friendly fat detectors for the high-priced talking weighing scales peddled in stores. For with the latter, I couldn't talk back and argue my case. With the former, I can smile my way to thinness.

three wishes

A genie granted a man three wishes.

“My first wish, I want a million dollars.”

POOF! A million dollars appeared.

“For my second wish, I want a Ferrari.”

POOF! A gleaming new Ferrari appeared.

“For my final wish, I want to be irresistible to women.”

POOF! The man became a box of chocolates.

*Are girls the only ones laughing here? ;) Got this funny text from Nechie.

alive

"Doesn't anything throw you off? Do you ever get mad at something or someone? Are you living in a perpetually happy place where rainbows dot the landscape and everywhere you turn there's a pot of gold waiting to be discovered? "

"Yes," I wish I could say yes.

Life.is.hard. And sometimes this truth slams in your face when you least expect the reminder, that Earth is not Disneyland. Your tear ducts get an unplanned workout. You get dehydrated by crying. You think yourself to death wondering what went wrong--where you made that misstep, how you can retrace your way back to the safe life.

Yet pain reminds us that we are still alive. For instance, when I bump my leg on the edge of a table, my muscles throb, my skin bruises. I'm suddenly aware of this particular part of my body. My brain reprimands me to be more careful and watch where I'm going. No corpse experiences the sensation of pain, for good reason.

Alive--I am alive now as ever before. My heart is tender, my soul is fragile. The tears come easily, and it's like there's a switch that instantly flips to on at the first sign of fear or distress, and opens the dam of tears. Yet more than any time in my life, I can say that this is a good time. Anytime I am confronted by my weakness and neediness should be celebrated. Because it's starting to get clearer and clearer to me--I can't survive life, in all its unpredictability, with all its complexities, on my own. I can't ask God to take a leave while I manage His post for a while. I need Him.

Like fish needs water.