Letter to the Person I Wish I Could be

Dear Perfect Me,

Is somebody like you alive?  You would have the sculpted body of Madonna without the bulging veins.  Hmmmn, why Madonna?  Because she and I have the same body type, if I don't eat much rice, cheesecake and chocolates, and If I work out at least two hours everyday!.  I could dream about having the body of  the current Miss Universe, but is sooooo stretching it, don't you think?

Yes, in ideal world, I could be as a good dancer as Madonna, maybe I could sing as good she does too.  But that is in ideal world, hehehe.  Come to think of it, my ideal person is Madonna.  I wish I know how to market myself as good as she does.  I wish I'm a genius like her who could max her abilities to make as much money as she could.

I prefer my love life over Madonna's right now, though.  And I would not trade my life experiences with anyone.

I love my friends, too and if I'd live my life again, I'd do the same things over and over again if that means I'd keep the friends that I have right now.  

Needless to say, I love my family, I love life and I am grateful to the Universe, I am grateful to God for all my gifts.

Dear Ideal Me, you don't need perfection at all.  Remember  that you were guided always by the faith in the Lord, and gratefulness in all He has done.  And remember:

What we are is God's gift to us.  What we become is our gift to God.  ~Eleanor Powell

Things About My Dad - You Are tagged, Write 12 Things about your Dad, too

This is spin-off to my notes entitled the same in my Facebook account. Emotional reactions poured because people remembered how they were with their dads too. You dear gentle readers, I tag you to write 12 things about your dad too.

12 Things About my Dad

At right is our family picture when I was the 'only girl', (peace,  Jo and Maritz :)  before my two younger sisters were delivered by a stork :) 

1. We call him Tatay. He liked it that way.
Tatay is a Tagalog word for Dad, you've guessed that right. When I was young, I asked Tatay why other kids call their dad Daddy or Papa. My knowledgeable mom or Nanay as we called her, answered for him, "Because I believe only rich people should call their Tatay Dad or Papa". That's a stereotype attitude, an offshoot of colonial mentality - only rich people speak English.   So whether Tatay would like to be called Daddy, Papa or Tatay is out of the question..  Nanay  liked it that way, he liked it that way too.  Did I say that sometimes he's a henpecked husband?  


2. He assured me I was so "guapa guapa gid" (very pretty) when I was a young girl as people compared my looks to my mom  who was a beauty.
I always felt insecure with my looks.  I hear friends and relatives telling each other I don't look like my parents at all.  They say Nanay has dark 'Turkish'  looks.  Don't ask me how this is possible.  Tatay is a "small American", as his mom, my grandmother,  lovingly described him.  He was very fair, until he became so tanned from years of riding his motorbike.

Tatay (Right) with a friend

He loved and was so proud of his 'American Legion uniform'. 

3. He was so proud of all of us.
He'd tell his friends all of our accomplishments, big or small.
Nanay always related to us how Tatay would brag about us with his friends and relatives.  Our accomplishments are feathers to his cap. 

4. He loved to tell jokes, and laughed at his own jokes.
There were times  he was not able to finish telling his jokes, he'd be overcome  with laughter and his audience would laugh with him and at him because it's funny how he'd guffaw and shook with laughter with his own jokes.

5. He loved being a politician (a small time politician, from Barangay Kagawad or Councilor to becoming a Barrio Captain).
He  loved giving looooong speeches during school graduations, barrio fiestas, etc.  People were so conditioned of him giving very long speeches that seeing  him on stage and hearing his voice would trigger instant sleepiness.

Tatay as the guest speaker in a Graduation Ceremony

6. He made me feel I was his favorite child, then later I found out each one of us,  especially  the daughters, felt that way too.
It's strange how he did this, he did not tell me I was his favorite child, but I always though he treated me more favorably than the others......until my sisters told me they thought they were more favored too.  

At right is Tatay and our youngest sister, Maritz. 

7. His best facial feature were his eyes.
They were light brown and when he'd look at women, my mother said that it made each woman feel she's so special. His eyes turned reddish brown when he was angry, so Nanay knew he was angry even if he did not say anything.

8. He was a good street boxer, he'd fight with anyone, even those who were bigger than him when he knew he was wronged.
I remember a neighbor who after years of secret jealousy of my dad, went amok and fired shots at our house when he was so drunk.  Tatay had me and Nanay hide. He did not fire back even when he had his own gun.  The next day, when the neighbor was sober and walking towards his house, Tatay confronted him on the street.  Tatay confiscated the neighbor's gun as he had no permit to carry deadly weapons.  He then challenged the neighbor to a fist fight.  The foolish and arrogant athletic neighbor who is a head taller than Tatay took up the challenge and had the scariest open gashes on his face.  Tatay sent him to the hospital first, then filed a case against him, then sent him to jail.  The neighbor cried and asked for forgiveness, and after two hours, my father forgave him and had him released.  

9. He had several guns. He had license to own and carry weapons even though he was a civilian.
I think he was able to justify the possession of deadly weapons because he went  to the bank in the city every week to give salaries to the hacienda laborers. He used to be the hacienda bookkeeper.  The arrogant neighbor mentioned above was the hacienda administrator.  

10. He was slim all his life.
My sisters and he borrowed each  other's  jeans  when my sisters were teenagers. I was not able to enjoy that because I studied in the city (Manila)  and they were in the province.

11. He had a very solid voice and although he was short, about 5'2'', his voice could be heard 200 meters away in all directions if he felt up to it.
Everyone of us inherited that solid voice. Translation: Be careful not to piss us off, we could shout very very loud.

12. He taught us to be very courageous, to stand up to what is right and to protect and take the side of the underdogs.
In the times when I was emotionally and physically challenged, I would say to myself, "I could do this, I am Mating's daughter, I am brave, I am strong".  BTW, my father's name is Matias, his nickname is Mating.    

Tatay died in 2003, while I was working in Saudi Arabia.  I could not go home. My employers in Saudi Arabia did not think that sickness and death in the family were good reasons for taking a leave to go home before the contract is over. Tatay  got sick and was bedridden for a month. He had all these tubes in his body and he kept  disconnecting them. He said that he'd rather die than be dependent on tubes for his life.  My sisters had to hire two able-bodied young men to keep him from disconnecting all these tubes.  Mercifully, he did not suffer long.  I regret being not able to tell him how I love him, how I appreciate him taking care of all of us.  I thought that the money and gifts  I sent them were enough, were understood as my gesture of love and appreciation.  I was 'macho' like Tatay, who could not say I love you to  parents, sisters brothers, relatives and friends.  

Why is it so hard to express our loving feelings.  If we are angry, most us us don't mince words to say I hate you. Why is hard to say I love you.  Why is it hard to verbalize the appreciation for each other.

Before my time is over (that would be a looong long time yet),  I would like to say to all of you, my loved ones, my friends, my relatives, my f, I ollowers on this blog, I appreciate how you value me, I like how you make me feel important, I  love your presence in my life,  I love that you give some time for me even with your busy schedules, I LOVE YOU.

Four Greatest Gift You Could Give Your Children

My daughter and I went shopping yesterday.  She bought a pair of white jeans, she calls it cigarette pants. She's lucky to have nice shapely legs and slim calves.  I told my daughter that the pair of pants is my birthday gift for her.  She raised one eyebrow to that.  She'd like an iPod for a birthday present.

These kids, they don't know how blessed they are.  In my time, if my mom gave me a pair of pants - cigarette pants or hot pants I would be jumping up and down with delight.  My Nanay  knew better,  she did not buy me those kind of pants, I am bow legged.

Kids now take for granted the things that are so valuable to us when we were young.  They take for granted having  cell phones, computer, internet, TV, etc. I would roll in pleasure if I had them at their age. 

Children will never have enough material things;   they  always want  something more, they want the greatest and the latest.
I miss the days when my youngest daughter was happy and contented  to practice her creativity with photo editing.  She inserted her picture in the Microsoft wallpaper below when she was eight years old. 

For her coming birthday, I  would like to give something that is more lasting. I kept thinking what would that be. As usual when you ask the universe,  answer come naturally.  Recently I attended a parenting seminar given by my youngest daughter's school.

I confess, I am usually bored with these kind of seminars.  I sometimes go and ......cheat, like I attend the morning seminar, check in for the attendance then I don't go back for the afternoon session.  But I was bothered by my daughter's latest grades.  I thought I will be able to talk to her teacher.   We are not happy with her grades.  Yes, She moved from no. 12 to number 11 in her class ranking, but we are not satisfied with her grades.  Dave, the first time father has a high expectations of our daughters, his instant daughters (he adopted them after we got married).

Dave is a Mensa member, and even without studying his lessons in school, he breezed through high school, college and even studied Law after he graduated in engineering. 

I am not the Mensa type, I had to study 'hard' in order to have high grades in school.  The only remarkable thing about me is I love studying, so it was not hard work to study, unless the subject is Math, for it needs more time for conditioning.   I realize now I was  a nerd.  Where other students loved traipsing around in our small barrio, going to the river for a swim or to town plaza to watch basketball games,  I was perched on one of  our guava  trees, or on top of the bodega roof (the stockroom for sugar cane fertilizer),  eating guavas and studying, eating guavas and daydreaming while lying on the roof.  These were my pastime -  eating guavas with a book or notebook in hand, I studied or reviewed my lessons in school, or read my Tatay's Reader's Digest, Newsweek and Time magazines or my Nanay's Liwayway, our local magazine in Tagalog,  The benefits were:

1) I was  always way ahead of our school lessons
2) I always beat the birds in eating ripe guavas
4) Between the birds and myself, no guavas fell and rotted in the ground.
3) My teeth are so strong from eating guavas
4) I was not vitamin C deficient at all.

Enough of guavas and birds.
Back to the  seminar which  I attended.  Mr. Ernest Tan, of Ateneo De Manila University, the author of Your Greatest Gift to Your Greatest Love, was the speaker.  He looked nerdy, he was funny, and never was a dull moment in his seminar.   I did not cheat by running out of the seminar during lunch break. 

Below is the gist of his morning seminar:Four greatest gifts you could give your child:

      1) Self worth

a) This is the foundation of success in work and relationship.
b)  Success has nothing to do with grades.  The important thing is confidence.
c)  Teach self-discipline.
d)  Teach intrapersonal skills,  this can not be tested.
e) Grades are relative.
 These are all better said than done.  If I see  grade of  like 77 to 79 I get pissed off. 
2)   Healthy sense of sexuality

Teasing is another form of violence.  We did not delve on this.  He postponed this topic 'til next seminar.    

3) Teach your children effective coping skills.  
a) Give them roots and wings.
b) It is the foundation of strength amidst diversities.
c) Don’t be so over protective.
d) Love your children, good grades or no.

4)   Build your child’s character 

 a)  It is the foundation of basic goodness and integrity. 
 b)  Discipline by consequence, e.g.  give her allowance for one week and if she finished that in one day, don’t give her more money.
 c) Give tough love.  You're tough but remain loving.


Do you think these are good gifts?  I think they are.  Starting today and for the rest of her school life, I would try hard not to scream at my daughter for not doing her English and Math exercises.  I will not think of it as a personal affront.  I would feel sad because it is  the opportunity to study that she missed.  

But yes, as usual, no TV, no computer until she’s done with her household chores,  and Math and English exercises.

What To Do While Your Man is Flirting.

Some men are so callous, or maybe they are sensitive in all other ways but they just could not help themselves, they flirt with other women while you’re with them. Flirting sometimes could do everyone good, like the feel good and harmless flirting, as in giving compliments, etc. Flirting, which is my topic now is of the other kind - the malicious one, done in "secrecy" and sometimes with the hope of a follow-up and consummation. My man, meaning my husband, in fairness, does not initiate the flirting. I mean he will stare at some booties or blatantly exposed flesh, or would smile and get interested at flirty quips, but he does not initiate or will not pursue the case down to a motel or any bedroom or comfort room, etc. He would “covertly” smile or steal a glance at the bitch. Of course nothing escapes to a wife like me. So what do you to do while the flirtation between the bitch and your man is going on?

1. Establish your presence with your man. I mean don’t pretend you’re just one of the furniture wherever this happens. I used to do that out of sheer disgust, but it’s self-defeating. I get so mad after wards and I vent on him, like throw plates, glasses or cell phone. That’s one way to drive your man away and that gives him enough reason to go back to the bitch. So while they pretend that they are the only two people in the room, making googoo eyes at each other, reestablish your presence, like talk about his favorite subject, be it himself, his work, or your neighbor or even talk about how the bitch has lovely smile (shit!).

2. See to it that the bitch knows that you know what is going on. The thrill of their encounter is the “secrecy” or something sweet between just the two of them. Make eye contact with the bitch, even smile at her, hoping your smile will disarm her and think that you’re too nice to be cuckolded and in your presence too.

3. Remain pleasant and worldly throughout the whole thing. You want your man to remember how sophisticated and funny you are. Tell jokes, make fun of anything, even yourself. Don’t make fun of the bitch though, as this will make her bitter and be vindictive, or this will make your man sympathize with her.

4. Before you leave the place, tell your man how many times he stole glances or smile or wink (whatever fooleries he made) to the bitch just so he knows you’re not fooled. For instance I tell my husband “that’s a dirty dozen now”, referring to the number of time he made googoo eyes with the bitch, or say, "Hmmn, you made it to the baker’s dozen”. Sometimes he will deny or pretend he does not know what you’re talking about but this will make him realize that you’re nobody’s fool. It took my husband three years to finally admit his googoo eyes and actually laugh about it with me. He says now (albeit facetiously) I am a wizard!

These episodes are so infuriating to us girlfriends and wives but men are animals or unthinking children so we have to either suffer, ignore, make a joke of it or get even. I am not a vindictive person, and I don't like to flirt with another man (makes it more complicated!) just to get even.



In the first place, maybe we could avoid the situation at all. Remember -
when you are in the bar or in any other social places, and there are always bold, dirty and flirty women, be sure to make eye contact with the bitch, and watch her moves every time she makes contact with your husband. Recently I realized this happened when the bitch of a waitress placed our orders on the table. While I was busy checking out our orders, the bitch made eye contact, and smiled flirtatiously with my husband and made the "intimate connection". After that, they looked at each other across the room like they were secret lovers. The waitress saw to it that she passed our table while she was getting orders or serving food, and sometimes even nudged my husband's arm or shoulder while she passed. Avoid that by looking at her moves casually, even smile at her. Unless she is truly a hardened bitch, she will be a little shy. There are callous bitches, actually. I remember going inside a bar and a waitress took fancy of my husband. She is not a dancer, she’s just a f*****g waitress but she started dancing in front and around my husband. Other girls laughed, reminded her “you’re silly, the guy’s with his wife, you gain nothing by that”. She insisted on showing her sexy dance moves though, even told me, “your husband is so cute, Ate (Ate means big sister in Tagalog)”. Hayyyy. How do you handle this?

Remembering Auntie Rosie

No, the gorgeous woman above is not my Auntie Rosie, but the model's curls remind me of  her. Auntie Rosie sported the same length of hair when when she was young.  As she grew older,  her hair got shorter.   I was always fascinated by her thick curly hair, which she absentmindedly twirled on her fingers while she was studying.  She was still studying when I went to live with my her, my grandmother and another aunt, Auntie Charing and other cousins and their parents.  Yes, Auntie Rosie was a spinster, an old maid....OMG, these terms are not in use anymore.  But she did not mind describing herself as such, did not mind other people describing her as such.  

Auntie Charing, my other aunt, in an effort to discipline us children, would often threaten us to tell on Auntie Rosie about our pranks, in the same manner that a mother would tell her children "Wait 'til you father gets home."  Around Auntie Rosie, we tend to be more quiet, better behaved, sort of tiptoeing around her while she was studying. If we were boisterous, she  snapped, "silence!", and we won't even giggle.   We children made faces  at each other but we obeyed Auntie Rosie. If silence was needed, we gave her that. She did not speak much, but when we showed her our "works of art", our high grades in school, told her of our accomplishments, she would smile and we knew we made her proud.   I think she was in her early 40's then, and  I was 9 years old.  

Yes, she was always studying, pursued her M.A. in Education too.  She was  a "self-supporting student", sent herself to college while she was employed as one of the junior staff at the Registrar's Office of Philippine Normal College, now Philippine Normal University.  She rose to ranks eventually and became the Registrar of the university. 

I stayed with them for two years until I felt so homesick I would burst,  and went home to my parents in Negros Occidental.   I came back to them six years later when I was 16 years old, and  studied at the same university where  Auntie Rosie was working.  Living with them (grandmother, spinster aunts, younger cousins)  at my grandmother's house was not that smooth when I was a little girl until  I was a teenager,  when I graduated from college and started working.  They say I was always a rebel.  I say I felt so alone.  There was this "regionalism" issue - I was from the south, a Bisaya,  actually an llongga, while all of them are "Tagala", from Metro Manila and Laguna, all speaking Tagalog. My father was from the south, Negros Occidental, so my siblings and I were all born Ilonggo.   I could speak Tagalog alright, thanks to Liwayway, a Tagalog weekly magazine I faithfully read since I learned how to read  when I was five years old.  Regionalism is big deal here in the Philippines.  A young girl could be treated inferior by relatives by the mere fact that she is from the South!  It did not help too that I was fiercely proud of being an Ilongga; that I was also stubborn;  that I was a smart-aleck kid, that when I was angry I shredded my dress in tiny tiny little  pieces with my bare hands;  I wrote my bitter feelings in seven pages of typewriting paper while I was given the "sermon" by Auntie Charing, and being heckled by a younger cousin, That seven-paged outburst was read later by my aunts, and the young cousins.  Auntie Charing  later praised my writing talent.   But I am straying from my topic - Auntie Rosie.  

Auntie Rosie conveniently "forgot" that I was an Ilongga, etc.,  when we were together every day - going to the University and coming back home.  We had nothing much to say to each other, except for the immediate needs, like "Auntie, I need to borrow this book from the library but the librarian would not allow me as the book is classified 'References'.  Auntie Rosie would get the book for me at the end of library hours, having promised the librarian that the book would be returned first thing in the morning.  To make the long story short, Auntie Rosie did her best  and made my college life easier - she gave me sandwiches at break times; she helped me get employed as a student librarian after my regular classes so I would be financially independent from my parents;  she applied for me as a grant-in-aid scholar in the university and was approved too;  she helped me in my art classes. Art and books - these are the things we both are passionate with. We borrowed books from each other, gave books as presents to each other too.   Auntie Rosie manifested her creativity with her beautiful sculptural works - she fashioned her beautiful busts of the Virgin Mary, child Jesus and other non religious objects from soap,  and from clay.   She made a grotto, complete with the Virgin Mary at the side walls of the house and at the backyard too.  The "walls" were actually the hilly backyard which she also fashioned like the mini rice terraces.

In my Art classes in college, when I needed an outline to work on, I requested her to draw for me - from paisley prints to logos, etc.  Her handwriting was so beautiful, she wrote each name of the student in individual diplomas.  Too bad that her family did not believe that an artist could actually flourish and make money.  She would have been a great multimedia artist.   Everyone was encouraged to have a 'practical' career as a teacher, a librarian, a doctor, etc.  Years later, when I became an adult, I always visited her at her office and we became closer. I always invited her to watch a movie or to eat out, etc.,  but she declined.  She was always frugal and did not approve of me spending much for her.  

When I decided to quit working as an employee in an international organization, everybody disapproved.  To everyone, my decision to become a full time photographer was not practical at all.  And maybe they were right.  But I feel fulfilled, I feel  freedom in photography.  I guess nobody fully understood, except for Auntie Rosie,  who also encouraged me to write!  For me, photography is almost natural as eating or sleeping  but writing?  I am not sure if I could survive as a professional writer.   Auntie Rosie assured me I could do anything, "Ikaw pa!" (no literal translation in English, but that means "Of course you can").  Two eBooks later (and published as hard copies later), I now say - yes, Auntie Rosie, I should believe in me.    (The books are not in my name, though, I wrote them for a nice and wonderful American client). 

Why am I writing about myself and Auntie Rosie now?  It's her birthday today.  I was thinking about her when I woke up and thought of writing about her until I was sidetracked by requests of photo editing from friends.  In the afternoon, I smelled orchids, lots of orchids!  The fragrance wafted from our dining room to the living room and to the  kitchen.  I went out of our front door  to check where the fragrance came from.  There was nothing outside of our door.  I checked at the patio, no fragrance there.  Wohooo, I remember this kind of fragrance.  The same fragrance, same smell of flowers  at Nanay's birthday last February 7.  Nanay and Auntie Rosie are sisters, and yes, they are both gone now.  I know they are resting in peace, probably tending a garden and smelling the flowers too.

Auntie Rosie's picture on top of her casket

More pictures  here taken at her  vigil.

I love you 'Nay, 'Tay and Auntie Rosie.  Tell Auntie Charing and Lola and other beloved relatives, they are so loved and sorely missed.   

Vietnamese Fresh Spring Roll

I have always been a fan and enthusiast of Vietnamese food.  I used to work in an office where most of us regale to each other the ethnic cuisine we've enjoyed, the unique restaurants that we've tried, from fat German sausages in a red light district to spicy Indian curries at the corner of the busiest street in the business area.  

I've always liked leafy vegetables (Vitamin A - good for the eyes and a feast to the eyes too) and the Vietnamese cuisine's right mixture of  leafy greens intrigue me.  I will never get tired of eating mint leaves, basil, coriander and the way they are mixed and matched with different ingredients makes me salivate.

While on tour outside Ho Chi Min, our bus stopped at roadside restaurant for lunch.  I checked their menu and was a little disappointed by the limited number of dishes.  I settled for boiled pork and baked rice.  I was thinking, this is just like a Filipino dish. I was surprised when the waitress  placed on the table different kinds of leaves.  I confirmed to her my order was boiled pork only.  She did not speak much English but I got the impression that she knew what she was doing.  I am not one to complain of too much leaves on my plate, ha, not me. 

Next, the waitress placed a plate with stack of thin white plastic-looking squares beside it.  I examined it.  Is this a coaster or a place mat?

Next came my order of boiled pork in a mat of  lettuce topped with crispy thin slices of garlic. I started eating.  My hubby tasted it too and remarked, "For a boiled pork this is so tasty."  He does not like leaves, except for the lettuce.  I wondered where my baked rice is, so I asked the waitress.  She did not understand what I was babbling about so she called a young girl who is obviously a student with her school uniform.   The student (who turned out to be the daughter of the restaurant owner)  demonstrated how to eat my dish.  The above  square plastic-looking stuff is actually the baked rice roll.   Hmmmn, just add the word  'roll' in your 'baked rice'  and that would straighten out an ignoramus like me when reading the menu, I'd like to advise her.... but never mind, the girl was so charming.

She dipped the ends with water (so that explains the bowl of water which I thought was for washing my hands......Good thing I did not wash my hands on it). She then lined it with some leaves and put boiled pork on top of it.

She rolled it nicely and secured it with another dip of water at the end.  You could dip it in spicy vinegar. For the above picture which is far from the perfect roll that the student made, I take the credit, that's the first roll that I made, the second roll that I ate.

Try making them, bon appetit!

Letter to Someone I Don’t Talk to as Much as I’d Like To

Dear D,

I can't write your full name but I know once you've read this you know I am referring to you. You're an ex darling, us being together for six years while I was working in Saudi Arabia until 2004.   I am happy that there was a time we were Facebook buddies; that we used to write to each other; and you used to call me at home;  but I guessed when your wife learned about us she got jealous or pissed off so our communications stopped, and I was blocked in your FB account.  I understand, no explanation needed from you.  I am lucky that my husband (I have not met this current husband yet, I was separated when we were together) is a good sport and he does not mind me communicating with you.  But that is history  now, as I don't like to aggravate your wife. Maybe someday we'll we see each other again, just to reminisce the good ole days?

I invited you to our place but you answered. "for what", meaning you'd rather that we meet in a place where we could be intimate.   You must understand that for me fidelity in marriage is the only way.

You always travel in Europe, Middle East and Asia for your businesses,  and whenever I am in an airport in the U.S. or in Asia, I  wistfully think that we bump into each other.   I miss our conversation during breakfast, lunch, dinner, or while one of us cooks, or while we watch TV together.  You are a funny guy and I enjoy listening to your adventures and misadventures.  

You are sorely missed.  Take care.

Your C