Dream on

Eric frequently dreams about our baby. Way before we knew the gender, he dreamt we would be having a boy and, well, it turns out we did.

A few months ago, he dreamt that our son would be a sound sleeper and generally well-behaved. I can only hope that would turn out true as well.

And just a couple of nights ago, he dreamt that I would go into labor either this coming Sunday or Monday. Well, I hope he's off by a few days because there are still a lot of last-minute preparations to do; call me O.C. but I want everything to be perfect before baby comes out, because God only knows how much of a total disarray our lives would be once he does.

One slight thing bothering me: as far as I can remember, I've never had any dreams about my baby whatsoever. Then again, between the need to constantly get up to pee and getting leg cramps, it's not as if I've been sleeping soundly enough to go into dreamland. But, ack, what if it's a sign that I'm not as connected to my baby as Eric is?

(S)Mothering

Most women dread the thought of becoming grandmothers.

Not my mom. She's so excited that every day for the past week, she's been calling me to ask how I am, how baby is, if I'm already spotting, or if I'm already have contractions.

She can get a bot overboard as well. Like yesterday morning, Eric and I went to visit our baby's pediatrician-to-be and I didn't bother telling my mom. As luck would have it, she called the house looking for me; when she found out I wasn't there, she wondered where I went since she knows that around this time, I really try not to leave the house unnecessarily anymore.

So she rang me on my cell.

Which I didn't answer because I had turned it on silent mode at the doctor's.

She then rang Eric's cell, which he didn't answer as well.

She then texted both of us, "Where are you?"

So by the time Eric and I saw both our cells, I assumed there was some sort of emergency with her and called her back, only for her to tell me, "I thought you had gone into labor and went to the hospital without telling me." And then scolded me for not telling her my plans to go out that morning.

Which is another issue I have with my mom altogether.

Argh.

Since then, I make it a point to answer the phone all the time. Even when I'm in the shower and it rings, I step out and drip all the way across the room to get to the phone. Because normally I just let it ring. But now I can't risk my mom going all eager-psycho again. I just get more annoyed slash stressed.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas--not!

Argh, the weather is so freakin' hot, it doesn't feel like Christmas is just a month away.

I hope it gets cooler by the time I deliver. In case you guys don't know, the Chinese believe that a woman who has just given birth can't take a bath for one whole month, because her body will have become so weak from the ordeal that she will most likely get sick or experience aches and pains if bathed. The most I can be given is a sponge bath.

So if the weather doesn't let up, I don't care how high our electrical bill will reach; I'm going to stay inside an air-conditioned room all day long.

Santa baby

I don’t know why many people keep saying they hope I give birth on Christmas Day. True, it would be very meaningful and symbolic, but honestly, who would want to spend Christmas huffing, puffing, and screaming while in labor?

It’s not going to happen anyway. The latest I can deliver is the second week of December; beyond that, baby is considered post-mature and the doctor will have to induce. So I can spend Christmas Day just taking photos of me, Eric, and baby in front of our Christmas tree.

So if anyone knows where I can baby a Santa hat fit for an infant, do tell!

Today is a good day

1. At 9pm, it's the premiere of The Amazing Race Asia . Bonus: eye candy in the form of host Allan Wu, who's one of the hottest Asian guys I know, as the recent issue of Men's Health Philippines (above) will attest...

2. I scored 700,000+ points on Pacman today--twice! And Eric hasn't yet! Bwahahaha! You really have to play the game to appreciate how hard it is to (finally!) achieve this score, so for now just take my word for it. And yes, I've already completed all 25 levels.

3. Someone told me that he can't believe I'm carrying a baby boy, because my face hasn't changed in appearance. To quote, "Maganda pa rin kayo." This has to do with a Filipino belief that if a woman is carrying a boy, she gets ugly; if she's carrying a girl, she becomes more radiant.

Okay, so the guy who said that is an employee of Eric's family, which means there's a chance he's just sucking up. Plus he's pretty old, so there might be something wrong with his eyesight. But who cares -- at this stage in my pregnancy, I welcome ALL compliments.

How to make a marriage work 101

Okay, so on one hand, they tell you to always communicate with your spouse, to always voice out your feelings and whatever else may be bothering you instead of keeping it bottled up inside...

But on the other hand, there are also those who say that some things aren't worth arguing or fighting about, that you should just put up and shut up when it comes to the little things, because otherwise you'll come across as petty and argumentative.

So the question is: where do you draw the line?

Hollywood tales

It's been an exciting week on the Hollywood news front... at least for me. But I think the news could've been juicier...

Shocker #1 -- Reese Witherspoon has filed for divorce from Ryan Philippe.
Even more of a shocker -- If it were Brad and Angelina who split.

Shocker #2 -- Neil Patrick Harris, the actor who played Doogie Howser M.D. has announced that he's gay.
Even more of a shocker -- If an NBA player announced that he was gay.

Not-so-shocker -- Britney Spears has filed for divorce from Kevin Federline.
Even less shocking -- Any news about Paris Hilton. Or Anna Nicole Smith. Or Lindsay Lohan.

Shirt tales

My tummy has expanded to the point that my large-sized shirts, which I use as pambahay, are already starting to get snug around the belly area. So I've now taken to wearing Eric's XL-sized shirts at home, and while they're comfy, they come with a price:

Yesterday, Eric's grand-aunt who's visiting from China dropped by the house to see how I was. I opened the front door and as she came up the front stairs, she stopped in her tracks, squinted, and asked mom-in-law, "What is Eric doing here?" since she just saw Eric at the office before she left.

Mom-in-law had to tell her than was me, and I explained that I was just wearing one of Eric's shirts.

So the question is: Did she mistake me for Eric because I now look as big as him, and look even bigger by wearing his shirt??

And to think I was tempted to wear his basketball jerseys instead... I wonder what reaction that would elicit?

Making my list, checking it twice

Given that I'll be out of circulation in December (never mind the rest of 2007 as well!), I've sworn to get started on and complete my Christmas shopping by mid-November. Not an easy feat, considering that I still have to finalize my list!

It's easy to know who's in (i.e. family and in-laws, for sure) but how about who's out? For example, do I still have to get something for all my former bosses? Every year, I drop by their offices and give them a cake or some other yummy dessert, but that was before when I was mobile and had time to zip around Manila. This year is going to be tougher.

Eric says to just forego shopping altogether, that people will understand. But somehow, I don't see myself foregoing tradition just yet.

Decisions, decisions...

Talking to strangers

I seem to have a penchant for attracting conversations with strangers. Not sleazy pick-ups at bars, mind you... In fact, they occur in the most boring of places.

==> Like the elderly gentleman I encountered in National Bookstore, this one during my college years... We were browsing side by side along the aisle and he asked me out of the blue what was good to read these days, and we had a brief but nice conversation about Harry Potter.

==> Or another guy I met just this year, in Powerbooks this time... He approached me and insisted we met at some industry launch party a few nights ago, and when he eventually found out that I work for a business magazine, he asked for my number because he was supposedly in the process of putting up a local cosmetics line that he would love for me to feature. When I gave him a fake cellphone number (he can reach me via the office trunkline, why should I give him my mobile number??), he said "Okay, I'll ring your phone now so that you can save my number too." I told him I left my cellphone at home and prayed he wouldn't be able to see or identify the telltale bulge of my cellphone in my jeans pocket.

It bothers the hell out of Eric when I have these "encounters" because he thinks everyone I talk to is either some scam artist or manyak out to take advantage of me. He was particularly annoyed when I told him about Powerbooks guy and even mock accusingly asked what I was wearing that day (answer: nothing attention-getting). He told me that I should've just curtly said "No" and walked away from the minute he asked if we had met at that party.

"I can't help it if I have an approachable vibe," I always tease him.

Besides, it's not as if all the strangers who talk to me are men. Last weekend, while walking along our parish church, I crossed paths with a nice old lady who smiled at mne and said, "Good morning. You're about the give birth soon, 'no?" And she explained it was because my tummy was already big and low, and she asked the usual stuff (Boy or girl? First child? Etc.) and when we parted ways, she said she would include me in her prayers for that day. How nice of her.

Now, when will I be approached by a hunky supermodel?

Foods for thought

Looks like my days of enjoying certain fast food delights are coming to an end.

A few months ago, I found out that McDonald's apple pie doesn't really contain apples.... Instead, they use sayote and just add apple flavoring.

And then a few days ago, my doctor tells me that the oil KFC uses to fry its chickens with is used and reused for one whole month. Waah! She says the best branch to buy from would be their main branch somewhere in Quezon City (I think it's along A. Roces? Or Quezon Avenue?) because that's where the owners hold office, so the oil there is changed daily.

Which reminded of the time when a couple of college friends worked as servers at KFC during the summer break, and revealed that when they clean the place up at night... the bucket/container that they use to put soap and water to mop the floors with is the same container they use to put the chicken gravy during operating hours!! Back then, we only resolved never to buy from that particular branch; but add this factoid with the issue about the oil... double whammy.

And while siomai isn't a fast food, it's still one of my favorite viands, and it looks like I'll have to cut down on those as well because it turns out it's made of 100% pork fat! Although in fairness, some Chinese restaurants, like Le Ching, claim they also include real pork meat along with the fat.

So no McDo apple pie, no KFC, no siomai... What else is there left to enjoy??

At 33 weeks and counting...

We've already bought most of the stuff needed for the baby, but why do I still feel I'm not yet ready?????

Nesting

I've been bitten by the organizational bug. I spent the whole day removing the entire contents of my closet and sorting them, placing most items in their respective transluscent plastic storage containers (which I think are the best storage inventions since the Ziplock bag).

Even more anal, I had the contents of each box typed and printed out so that I could stick it to the side of the box and know at a glance which box contains what items.

I'm so proud of myself, I think I deserve a slice of Dulcelin's Mango Torte (which I think is the best local dessert ever made since Razon's halo-halo).

The biggest "what if" of all

I think every girl (whether she admits it out loud or not) wishes that every guy she has ever been involved with will spend the rest of his living days pining for her.

Meaning he may move on and everything, but deep down inside, he will always regard her as "the one who got away."

Agree, disagree?

Worse than PMS

Do you want to know how hormonally-challenged I am right now?

First, a little backgrounder:

Many years back, I edited an ad hoc baby magazine for Summit. There, we had a section where we interviewed celebrity parents and asked them to share their pregnancy and birthing experiences. One of the questions we asked the husbands -- "Did your wife look more sexy to you when she was pregnant?"

Last night, I re-read my copies of the magazine and found myself smiling at all the kilig answers the husbands gave to that particular question. So still feeling giddy, I asked Eric, "Hon, do I look more sexy to you now that I'm pregnant?"

Eric: (looking at me like the answer should be obvious) "Syempre hindi."

Needless to say, I promptly burst into tears. I really did.

And poor Eric, panicking, wondered what the hell he said wrong.

Me: "How come all the husbands here said their wives looked more cute and blooming when they were pregnant???"

Eric: (major damage-control mode) "Of course you're cute and blooming! Iba naman ang 'sexy.' You're not 'sexy' in the true sense of the word anymore kasi mataba ka na. Yan lang naman ang ibig kong sabihin."

Me: (even more mortified now) "So what if I don't lose all this weight after giving birth? Repulsive na ako??!?"

Eric: (wishing he should never have opened his mouth) "Hindi yan..." And he went on to say that he would love me no matter what shape or size I was in, and that he was only taking my question about "sexiness during pregnancy" literally, and that he's sorry for saying something so insensitive (again).

Hmph.

Gift giving

SITUATION: Generous husband meets low-maintenance wife (ahem, ahem)...

ERIC: Hon, anong gusto mong anniversary gift? Naisip ko bagong cellphone? O Ipod?

ME: Ha? But I'm still happy with my current cellphone and mp3 player. But I need a new handbag, just buy me that.

ERIC: Ano ka ba, mura lang yung bag. I can buy it for you anytime. Dapat special ang anniversary gift.

ME: Okay, then just buy me a Louis Vuitton handbag. That should cost about the same as a new cellphone.

ERIC: Ano ka ba, kung gagastos lang ako nang malaki, mas gusto ko pa sa cellphone nalang kaysa sa bag.

***

In the end, he promised to take me to Sonya's Garden next weekend. Sana matuloy.

***

P.S. I asked him what he wanted as an anniversary gift and he said I didn't have to give him anything, carrying his child is enough. Aww...

(I can see you guys rolling your eyes!!!!)

Parent trap

Three stories from yesterday:

Story #1: My mom told me about this friend of hers whose son refused to speak to his dad for one whole year, simply because he wouldn't buy him a new car. Oh, and he also said "F*ck you" to the head monk of the Buddhist temple that his mom volunteers at. I wouldn't want to know what he will be reincarnated as in his next life.

Story #2: My dad then told me about this relative of ours who ran away from home (don't ask me why, it's a long story) and when her dad saw her on the road and attempted to drag her back into the car, she actually yelled at bystanders to help her because "kidnapper po siya!"

Story #3: CNN breaking news last night: Oscar-nominated child actress Keisha Castle-Hughes is pregnant--and she's only sixteen! I don't harbor any illusions that girls still "save it" for marriage, but God, to get pregnant at sixteen??

What do this stories have in common? Pasaway kids. Which made Eric and I end up talking about what exactly iks it that made these kids turn out this way. Is it really the the fault of the parents -- too much or too little attention? Or is it bad influences from the media or barkada? Or a combination of both?

Also, I know all kids have a pasaway streak in them (i.e. dating the wrong kind of guy, staying out past curfew, cheating in exams every now and then ), but where do you draw the line between these and actually ending up with a child who accuses her father of being a kidnapper?

It's kinda scary. Like right now, Eric and I always pray that we'll have a healthy baby. But after last night's stories, you kinda wonder what the point of having a robust kid is if he or she ends up short of slapping you on the face when he grows up.

I'm not an easy person to live with these days

I'm so cranky and irritable today, I feel like I'm going to just lose it any minute now.

I also feel fat, unattractive, and ungainly.

Not to mention hot -- apparently, pregnancy has a way of upping your body temperature (because your body is working double-time)-- so if I don't have the air-conditioning on or the electric fan directed straight at me, I sweat buckets.

Which contributes even more to my feeling of unattractiveness.

And which makes me all the more upset.

It's a vicious cycle.

An unforgettable anniversary

Yesterday was our first wedding anniversary (I know, time really flies!) and we had planned to spend it as simply as possible -- just a quiet, early dinner at a nearby swanky place so that we could be at home in time to watch The Amazing Race.

It was raining pretty hard while we were having dinner, but because the restaurant was less than 10 minutes away from home, we didn't worry about encountering flash floods on the streets.

What we didn't expect was the inside of our home getting flooded.

That's right -- when we got home and went up to the second floor, we could hear the rainwater pouring from our ceiling, onto our floor, pooling and seeping into the bedrooms of the house, including ours! Even worse-- most of the other bedrooms had wall-tlo-wall carpeting. So along with the maids, we spent the evening throwing pails of water out the windpow and cleaning up the water. With the exception of one room (whose ceiling also sprouted a major leak so that the carpet turned into a squishy mess and we had no choice but to just strip the whole thing this morning), the water damage on others were, fortunately, minimal. Still, it was a heckuva way to celebrate the occasion.

Not a typical dance movie

Watching Step Up made me wish:

1) I knew how to dance

and

2) All school janitors looked like Channing Tatum.

***

Seriously, it was a pretty good movie. Even though the plot is pretty formulaic (i.e. troubled boy gets a chance to redeem himself, chickens out just when things are going great, but later has an epiphany blah blah blah), the acting and script aren't, so you don't get bored. Plus the dance moves are really cool to watch, and even though I was never a fan pof hip-hop music, I still found myself tapping my foot to most of the songs played.

I wonder if Antonio Banderas' Take The Lead is just as good?

Sweet tooth

After months of being cravings-free, my taste buds are now going wonkers for, unfortunately, all things sweet.

Everytime I see the TV ad for Red Ribbon's newest product...or Magnolia's latest ice cream falvor... or if I see a billboard for Chowking halo-halo... or if I just pass any damn pastry shop...I salivate.

I know it's okay to give in once in awhile (i.e. a cup of Haagen Dazs when I went to Power Plant mall last week), but lately it's becoming very hard to resist just "sampling" a treat and actually indulging in a craving. Because even though my blood test last week showed negative traces of glucose, I'm still being very anal in controlling my intake of sweets because I have a history of diabetes on both sides of the family, and pregnancy has a way of increasing the odds.

Fortunately, everytime I feel myself weakening, I have a very able conscience in the form of my husband, who knows just what to say to make walk away from temptation -- instead of appealing to my health (to which I can still give all sorts of excuses, like "I exercise naman" or "It's just once bite"), he appeals to my vanity.

"Bahala ka, tataba ka lalo," he says matter-of-factly.

Works every time.

How about 100 years of sex?

Yesterday's issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer had an interesting article based on this survey . Basically, the results showed that Britons would be willing to give up sex to live to be 100 years old.

Which made me think——what's the point of living for so long if there's no sex? (Or the other past-times they were willing to forego, such as foood, drinks, and travel?) Seriously.

But then again, I suppose if you live to be a 100 (or even 80), sex is probably the last activity you would consider engaging in. Not unless you're still as healthy as you were when you were 20 or 40. Because if you're 90 and still going at it——wow, then you deserve a medal!

Model hubby

One of the wives in our weekly Childbirth Preparation Class was absent yesterday because she had to go to New York.

For work.

Even though she'salready around 27 weeks pregnant (like me).

Which was why she travelled on business class.

Inggit ako.

Partly because she can travel. (Am not even allowed to drive anymore if my destination is outside of Makati! Huhuhuuu...)

And because it's New York! (Yung Tagaytay lang nga namin ni Eric, di matuloy-tuloy...)

And it's business class! (Although I guess dapat lang 'no...)

The clincher: even though the wife wasn't around, the husband still went and attended yesterday's class by himself.

Double inggit.

If it were Eric, odds are he'd just absent himself too.

Now he knows better. Ha!

Can't say "no"

So I have a dilemma: How do I say "no" to a relative when she asks me for a favor I'm not inclined to oblige?

More specifically: How do I tell a high-schooler cousin who repeatedly asks me to do her assignments for her that I can't?

It's not that the work isn't hard—an anti-drugs slogan here, a poem about the Holy Spirit there—but I don't like how she asks it. I don't think she means to be rude but really, she could phrase her requests a better way, not to mention include a few more details about the assignment other than the vague, "Achi, gwa m k poem abt Holy Sprt." (And you guys know how I feell about excessive text-speak, i.e. shortcuts in spelling).

Plus it's not like she's asking me to HELP -- nope, she wants me to do the WHOLE thing, even generate the idea itself.

What galls me even more — I don't even get a "thank you" when I submit the final work.

It's hard to be a bitch about it because, first of all, I don't know if her mom (my mom's sister) was the one who told her to ask me. In this case, bitching to my cousin would be tantamount to bitching to my aunt. Secondly, even if the request did not originate from my aunt, what if my cousin goes whining to her? Eh di lumalabas ako pa ang hindi helpful.

Eric and my brother have some suggestions but I don't think they'll work as well:

1) Just ignore her text messages. Tell her my phone was turned off or I left it upstairs and didn't see her message until it was too late. Well, she usually gives me 2 to 3 days advanced notice, so if she repeatedly texts me, I can't "accidentally" ignore her messages forever. Plus, what if she calls me at the landline?

2) Tell her I'm too busy. Yeah, right. Everyone knows I don't have the most hectic schedule in the world right now.

3) Submit sub-standard work so that she won't ask me again in the future. Hey, I have my pride to maintain.

And finally:

4) Complain to my mom (so that she can talk to my aunt). I'm too old to be running to my mom over a little thing like this. Besides, knowing my mom, I have a feeling she'll just tell me to take the high road and indulge my cousin.

Do you guys have any suggestions?

Obits

I don't know when exactly I started, but I now make it a point to also read the Obituaries section of the newspaper. Call me uzi, but I always take note of the following:

How old the deceased was (the older the better)...

How many kids, grandkids, or even great-grandkids he/she has (the more the merrier)...

And where the wake is being held (okay, here I'm just being plain nosy).

Eric says I'm being morbid, but I feel it's no different than reading about a person dying in the Metro section of the paper. At least there's more dignity in the obits.

Raket-eers

I envy friends who seem to have a knack for turning the littlest things into money-making opportunities.

Like a fellow newlywedded couple who decided to sell some of their wedding gifts on e-bay (Why didn't I think of that first????)

Or friends who are always on the lookout for business opportunities.

Like the one who patiently makes annual trips to Bangkok or China to search for items to sell at bazaars, and ends up making a killing.

We call them ma-raket.

Me? I just don't have that raketeering/entrepreneurial spirit. Ironic, considering I spent two years as editor of a business magazine. I always come out of an interview envying the subject but it's always hanggang dun lang. Envy. And sometimes a bit awestruck. But generally still unmotivated.

I think it's because when it comes to money, I'm really not much of a risk-taker. I prefer the stability of getting a check each month, not like entreps who shell out capital first and just wait for the profits to come in.

It's also why I've never gotten hooked on poker. Or the bazaar craze.

But I will have to admit the idea of selling wedding gifts on ebay is starting to become more and more tempting.

Culture shock

Paoyu's blog contains a lot of stories and articles about Japanese culture that can make the most jaded of us raise eyebrows. And just when I thought nothing would shock me anymore, this month's issue of marie claire Philippines has an article that talks about the secret world of Japan's sex clinics. These aren't brothels, mind you, but places where male "sex volunteers" sleep with virgins (usually 30-year-olds who feel their deflowering is long overdue) or women who want to gain more experience.

The clinic is run by a 50-something sex therapist, who has 50 male "volunteers" on his list. According to the article, the men are between the ages of 28 and 63, are not sex workers or escorts, but ordinary members of society. Clients and the men arrange their own rendezvous, and they usually end up doing the deed in one of Japan's many love hotels.

Cost: According to the article, women pay 20,000 yen (or around PHP8,900) for the initial counselling session with the sex therapist. She gets to sleep with the sex worker free of charge, although I would assume they are paid a token fee by the head of the clinic? Or the women pays for the love hotel?

Hmm... It's really hard to say if the Japanese are a cool bunch of people... or just plain trippy.

Nerdy mom alert

Even before I got pregnant, I already knew that I would much rather have a smart child than a good-looking one. Okay, so it's a bonus if he or she is both, but if I had to choose between the two, I'd pick brains over beauty any day.

Eric and I have a favorite new reality TV show now... "Beauty and the Geek," where a gorgeous but seemingly dumb lady is paired with a nerd. Okay, so it's kinda funny when the guys don't know who Britney Spears' husband is, but it's doubly hilarious (not to mention alarming), when we saw that one of the girls didn't even know what a "Sherpa" was! No way will my kid grow up not knowing that!

So everytime I scour baby magazines in bookstores, I end up buying the ones that have "how-to-make-your-baby smart" blurbs on the cover.

Okay, that and "how-to-lose-weight-after-giving-birth" blurbs as well.

Now it's clear: I'm a vain nerd.

Charmed

Last year, Paoyu gave me a Shinto charm for safe childbirth. Ever since I found out I was preggy, I've been going to sleep with the charm under my pillow.

The other week, my mom gave me a Buddhist charm that's supposed to offer "overall protection."

And just yesterday, a Catholic friend of Eric's who's a new dad himself gave me a copy of a novena on motherhood. I've never been particuarly prayerful but I promise to recite that prayer every night before going to sleep.

All I need now is something Islamic and my "circle of protection" is complete!

Pac you!

A few months ago, Eric downloaded a really cool version of the Pacman game into our computer and since then, we've both been working our fingers off to find out who's the better player.

The verdict: Right now, I'm #1 in the list of Top Scorers (ahead by about 20,000 points) BUT Eric, although ranked second, has already completed all 25 levels.

I'm not going to talk about his scores on the same game that he also downloaded into his laptop in the office; obviously, all his scores there are really high because I hardly get to play on his laptop, hmph.

So let me ask you guys: what should be the right gauge for Pacman mastery? Is it in the number of points earned, or in the number of levels completed?

Sputter, sputter

Female deejay of Magic 89.9 FM said this morning:

"Today is the day we celebrate the assassination of Ninoy Aquino."

Argh.

Not for un-morning people

Cosmopolitan Philippines recently came out with an article (I forgot which issue exactly) on how couples can squeeze in more quality time together despite today's hectic, fast-paced lifestyle.

One suggestion was for them to set their alarm clocks 15-30 minutes earlier than usual in the morning. So instead of rushing out of bed and go to work, they can use those extra minutes to just cuddle.

The funny thing is I know a lot of people (yours truly included) who set their alarm clocks minutes ahead of schedule so that they can "half-sleep" for a few moments more, gradually conditioning their bodies (and minds) to fully waking up. I know there are people whose mood for the rest of the day is affected by just how much "extra" sleep they were able to get during these window minutes.

So it came as no surprise to me when I told Eric about the article, and he reacted as if I suggested that we sleep without air-conditioning for the rest of the rainy season. He's one of the most un-morning people I know, and he balked at the very idea of snuggling during his precious extra minutes. I forgot exactly what he said, but the overall message was clear-- "Touch me and you die."

Bawi nalang daw siya sa gabi.

What to do, what to do?

I was looking forward to finally having a productive homemaker's life when I signed up for Heny Sison's cooking classes this August... once a week for all 5 weeks of the month. Unfortunately, for some valid reason or another, I had to miss the first two, and now it looks like I'll have to pass on the third session as well. Had a touch of the flu yesterday and I don't want to tempt fate by venturing outdoors this week.

But I really need to start doing something to keep me occupied. I've accomplished 3 thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles already, but each set is expensive as hell so it's not as if I can keep buying a new one when I'm done with a set. Cross-stitching is starting to become more and more appealing by the day...

What to wear, what to wear?

The minute I found out I was expecting, I swore that I wouldn't end up one of those frumpy, manang-y moms-to-be who let themselves go and walked around in whatever polka-dotted tent blouse there was. I may not exactly be a fashion plate, but my experience in magazine work has opened me up to the fact that it's possible to be hip and pregnant at the same time. My idol is, ehem, Tweety De Leon, the local supermodel-- I worked with her once when she was pregnant with her most recent kid, and trust me, she looked amazing! This was years ago, even before I got married, but I knew then that if I get pregnant, I want to be just like her. Ambitious, I know.

Okay, so I don't have supermodel bone structure (or a supermodel wardrobe budget), but fortunately, the "in" designs now for "regular clothes" are all suited for preggy women -- empire-cut blouses, long and stretchy tunics, square pants... yay! Am also fortunate to have a stylist-friend who was more than happy to go shopping with me during the past couple of months and and help me pick out stuff that I can still wear even after I give birth. Fashionable na, budget-friendly pa! Double yay! My only concession was a pair of black capris that I bought from a Procreation -- it's really hard to find "regular" pants that can accommodate a bulging belly. But so far, that was it.

So as of last weekend, I thought I could get through to the ninth month without acquiring other maternity clothes. Wrong. I underestimated the eagerness of my mother-in-law, who went to the mall the other day and bought me not one, but three tops and two pairs of bottoms from Havin' A Baby. To be fair, the designs are nice (at least no large flowery prints or polka dots), but...well...they really shout "Pregnant lady coming through!" Eep.

Eric scoffs that it's time I snap out of my "feeling Tweety de Leon-phase," and yes, it was sweet of his mom to buy me those clothes... so I guess one of these days you will see me waddling about in a tent top. And I will expect to hear nothing but compliments, okay??????

For the gossip-hungry

http://www.dlisted.blogspot.com

Where all the men are gay, and all the women are sluts!

Of nieces and nephews

Have you guys heard this joke?

There was once was a father-to-be who had an absolute moron of a younger brother. As in "Dumb & Dumber" kind of stupid. Anyway, on the day his wife went into labor, the guy couldn't make it in time, so he didn't have a choice but to ask his moron brother to accompany his wife to the hospital.

By the time the father, got to the hospital, his wife had already given birth, to twins no less. A boy and a girl.

Moron younger brother then told older brother that he took the liberty of naming the babies. Filled with trepidation, the father asked him what he named them.

"I named the girl 'Denise,'" younger brother said.

Hey, that's not such a bad name, older brother thought with relief. "And what did you name the boy?"

"De-nephew."

Har har har.

The point behind this joke -- I just came from getting an ultrasound... and we're having a de-nephew.

Making up for a slow week

Powerbooks is having their annual book sale from August 1 to 31, but since Eric has a Powercard, he (meaning I) get first dibs on all the goodies via a "members-only sale" on July 30 and 31. Even better -- instead of the usual 20% discount, we get 30% off on those two days.

One more reason why I'm so glad I married Eric (and not some other Powercard-less guy)...

Cuddle weather

I have an article due on Thursday and I'm finding it difficult to buckle down to work and finish it, as all I want to do is either nap, or read a bit and then nap.

Ironically, it's also hard to work if it's hotter than hell, which was what the weather was like during summer a few months ago.

I wonder if there's such a thing as "work weather"?

A drastic cut

I had my hair cut really short a few days ago -- it's now a little below my ears and I can't tie it back in a ponytail at all.

Why the sudden decision? It's not really that sudden -- I had really planned to cut my hair short just before I give birth, since everyone's been telling me that I'll be so busy with the new baby that I won't have time to fix my hair anymore. So I decided to see what I would look like mponths in advance -- this way, if I don't like how I look, there's still time for my hair to grow out and for me to think of an alternative style. Kaysa naman I have it cut close to D-Day, and then spend my post-partum months not just feeling harassed but also feeling bad because of how I look.

So how do I feel about my new 'do? Well, I'm not hating it, but let's just say it's taking me some getting used to. The last time I had hair this short, I was in college! I'm just glad that Eric didn't freak out as much as I thought he would, and everyone else says it makes me look younger, plus my shampooing time has all but been cut down in half! Besides, my hair is growing so fast these days (must be all the extra nutrients I'm taking for the baby) that I'm sure it'll be back to its old length in no time.

So maybe I won't end up cutting it this short when the time comes. But you know what? Either way, it feels good to have made some new change in my life, even if it's only to my hair, and even if it's only temporary.

In XS

Pre-pregnancy, I was a size "Medium." So when my mom and I went shopping at the maternity section of SM a few days ago, we tried on clothes in sizes "Medium" and "Large." Lo and behold, they were all too big for me! And don't say it's because I'm still in my early months--trust me, the clothes were big in ALL places.

We finally figured out what the right size for me was -- XS!! As in "Extra Small."

Boy, after finding this out, I now can't imagine what preggy women who wear XL must look like!!

Worth reading a thousand times over

I expected it to be heavy on drama and other historical/political undertones, but The Kite Runner was a surprisingly easy read, although it doesn't mean it was any less touching or riveting.

The story is told from the point of view of Amir, a wealthy Afghan boy who grows up alongside Hassan, the son of his family's servant. Although Amir is more privileged, he is a self-confessed coward, afraid to speak out, and it is always Hassan who stands up for him. One fateful day, Amir sees Hassan being sodomized by rich bullies (sons of his father's friends); instead of helping his friend out, Amir runs away and pretends he doesn't see doesn't see anything. The Kite Runner is basically the story of how Amir's life turns out following that decision, all intertwined with Afghanistan's history as well (from the occupation of the Soviets to the rule of the Taliban until the invasion of US forces). The novel is rich in Afghan culture and trivia, and I found it to be as educational as it was entertaining.

I got the title of for this entry from something that's repeated often in the book, at first by Hassan—-he is as loyal a servant as he is a friend so everytime Amir asks him if he could do something, he would reply, "For you, a thousand times over." Towards the end, Amir says the same thing to someone else, someone we least expect.

Yes, it's another "serious" book, but trust me, it's not boring.

Why I've been MIA

Honestly...because there's really nothing interesting going on with my life right now. Here's a typical day for me: I wake up around 9am, eat breakfast, fix my room, and watch TV or DVDs until lunch. After lunch, I either watch tv some more or surf the Net or read. If it's not raining, I go brisk-walking around 5pm and come back home in time to fix dinner. Have dinner with Eric and then spend the rest of the time with him. I go to sleep around 11pm or by midnight at the latest.

I wish I were like Eva Longoria's character in Desperate Housewives and say that I spend my days just going to the parlor or shopping. But given that Ihave no regular source of income now, I'm trying to avoid going to the malls by myself so much now (because I tend to buy more when I'mn by myself).

I also wish I had more non-working friends whom I could invite to have lunch with.

Hell hath no fury

Just found out yesterday that a friend's seemingly happy marriage is now on the rocks because the husband was stupid enough to have cheated on her --and was stupider enough to have gotten caught!

You gotta give my friend balls for how she handled the whole thing -- she didn't get hysterical or manic. On the contrary, she calmly presented the evidence to the lying bastard, refuted all his lame explanations, and told him to pack his bags and move out. Which he did! Even though it was his familiy's house (i.e. my friend was living with her in-laws). Apparently, way earlier in the marriage, they had come to an agreement -- if ever the guy violates any of the marriage vows, he would move out while the girl would stay until they came to a settlement, which includes finding a house for my friend to live in, complete with household help and driver, and a monthly allowance. "I don't want to go back to my parents and be a burden to them," my friend rationalizes. "You married me, I'm your burden until the day you die."

Thinking about it, I wish I could be as sophisticated as my friend. At first, I thought I could be. I've told Eric way before that if I ever find out he cheated, he would never hear a thing from me. No hysterics, no blubbering tears. He would just come home one day and find me gone (with our kids, if ever) and he should just wait to hear from my lawyer.

But I thought some more last night, and I pictured myself in my friend's shoes, and wondered how I would react if I found out about my husband's infidelity the way she did (trust me, it's priceless). And I realized I don't think I can be as sophisticated.

"You know what, I've changed my mind," I told Eric last night. "Instead of leaving, I'm going to wait for you to come home and pretend nothing happened. I'm going to wait until you're asleep... And then I'm going to cut off your dingdong, feed it your dog, and then leave!"

Ha! I feel better already.

Marketing God

I have no patience whatsoever for telemarketers, but yesterday's caller ALMOST became an exception.

TELEMARKETER: Hello, is this [insert telephone number]?

ME: Yes...

TELEMARKETER: Good morning ma'am, this is [I didn't pay attention to the name] from [I didn't pay attention to the name of the company but it was some sort of Christian/Catholic/Evangelical society]. We'd just like to promote our Christian/Catholic/Evangelical/Whatever station on channel 59 over Sky Cable, we hope you can watch it.

ME: [Thankful that it wasn't some credit card company] Oh, okay, sure.

TELEMARKETER: Thanks very much, ma'am. Just so you know, our show is...

He started talking about how it's basically a 24-hour prayer channel, that they help people become closer to the Lord, blah blah blah... At this point, I was starting to tune out and wondering when the spiel would end. And then suddenly--

TELEMARKETER: Ma'am, I'd like to invite you to say a prayer with me. Is there anything in particular you would like us to pray over?

Eep. I was half-tempted to actually take him up on his offer, but the other half of me also felt this whole thing might just either be a sham or a scam and I wanted to get off the phone asap. So politely, I said...

ME: Umm.. I'm actually in the middle of something, can we do this later?

TELEMARKETER: Sure ma'am, what time?

ME: Uh.... 8pm?? [Me knowing that I wouldn't be home that time]

TELEMARKETER: Ma'am, that's already beyond our office hours. Are you sure you can't spare a few minutes for a prayer?

ME: Uh, sorry, but what I'm doing is really important e...

TELEMARKETER: More important that the Lord?

Oh crap. I simply stammered out another apology and without waiting for a reply, hung up.

I spent the whole day feeling bad (Did I really just turn my back on God when He was calling on me???) but when I told Eric about it later in the day, he brushed off my worry and said the guy had no business calling me up at home in the first place. He says the conversation would've probably ended up with the guy asking me for a donation. "Scam yan," he assured me.

I said I should have told the guy I was a Buddhist or Muslim from the get-go, but Eric says he would've probably tried to convert me!

But okay, assuming the call was legit, here are the 3 things I would most likely pray to God for:

1) A safe delivery and a healthy baby
2) Good health for my loved ones
3) Peace on earth

Most expensive fight ever

Eric and I have had tiffs conducted via text messaging before, but never when one of us was out of the country. Well, chalk up another "First" last night (yes, we like to keep track of milestones in our relationship).

I was here and he was in Hong Kong, where every outgoing text message cost him P25, every outgoing call P90 per minute, and every incoming call P20 per minute -- plus whatever surcharges levied by the service provider.

What we fought about was irrelevant, so just start computing: text messages continuously being sent back and forth between 10pm to midnight, highlighted by a call somehwere in the middle punctuated by many moments of silences that were, basically, money going down the drain, so we eneded up hanging up after about 7 minutes and just resumed texting.

Thankfully, we finally made up around midnight, which was also when we both realized that yes, this was our most expensive fight to date. Which I think is nice--that we're both able to laugh afterwards, I mean.

Team Jolie

I've been feeling guilty about my current couch potato state, so when I went to Powerbooks over the weekend, I went straight to the "serious" section (i.e. Politics, History, Biographies, etc.) instead of "General Fiction." And even thouugh the books there were more expensive (not to mention thicker and heavier) than the usual chick lit, I resolved not to leave the store without buying one from the rack.

I chose Angelina's Jolie's "Notes From My Travels" because:

1. Say what you want but I LOVE Angelina and I can totally understand Brad leaving Jen for her
2. The workings of the United Nations has always fascinated me and the book, which was about Angelina's work on behalf of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, is as close as it gets
2. At P600+ (less 20% because the branch was having a sale that day), it was cheaper than the other books I was interested in

Overall, it's not exactly the kind of book you'd like to read when you're pregnant (and like to be surrounded by happy, uplifting feelings rather than depressing ones), but it's still a good read, and a nice way of calling attention to things going on in the world that we should know about but don't, as well as things that we should be grateful for.

Yeesh

I always assumed that there existed some universally acknowledged rules of etiquette:

-- Elderly passengers should always be offered seats in public transportation.
-- Gentlemen don't kiss and tell.
-- You don't smoke around pregnant women.

Apparently, some people still need a crash course in lesson #3. And to think they consider themselves friends! Argh. They're definitely not making my shortlist of godparents.

You know you're a certified West Wing addict when...

You have a dream that you're part of the cast...as a Secret Service agent!

I want to live in the West Wing

Throughout my period of "house arrest," I stayed sane by sleeping, reading, and yes, watching episode after episode of some American TV series. So far, I have already finished seasons 1-3 of Alias, season 1 of Frasier, and seasons 1-2 of Scrubs. I am also halfway through the current season 5 of Alias, season 2 of Desperate Housewives, and season 1 of Supernatural.

I know I still have a lot to catch up on (Lost, Charmed, Smallville, 24) but all that is taking a backseat to my current new fave, The West Wing.

I'm currently 3/4 of the way through season 1 and since I have all episodes until the first half of season 7 (the current and last one in the US), I know I have a lot of catching up (not to mention late nights) to do. But it should be a breeze, because the show is downright riveting. It's smart without being boring, funny without losing its meaning, and dramatic without being over the top. I still can't decide which among the male characters I have a crush on (it's a toss between Rob Lowe's and Richard Schiff's) and whose job I would love to have (I think the Chief of Staff has more power than the president, but being the presidential aide also seems to have its own perks).

I have a feeling that after I finish watching all these, ehem, pirated episodes, I'm going to go out and buy the original DVDs!

Or maybe it's just me

What is it about parents that they have this uncanny ability to turn the most self-assured person into a neurotic mess with just a simple comment?

Sometimes I think my relatiobnship with mine borders on the sado-masochistic——I know that I can be (emotionally) better off by not telling them certain things or just basically living my own life... but when I do act on this brief streak of independence, I end up feeling guilty because I think I'm not being a good daughter. So I end up caving in.

See, this is why one of my biggest regrets in life is not experiencing what it's like to study or live abroad for a long period of time, because the consequence: The apron strings are still very much attached (with Super Glue), and I fear it's going to take more than a hacksaw for them (yes, not me) to cut (or at least ease) the ties that bind.

Or maybe that's just me.

***

Last night, out of the blue, I recalled that Eric and I had our First Major Fight around last month, and by "Major" I mean it was the kind of fight wherein for the first time in our 5+ years together, we both went to sleep without resolving that particular difference. Now while I remember the where (we were in Baguio), the when (it was our on first night there) and the how (pretty quiet, with both of us waiting for the other to apologize first), I couldn't for the life of me remember the "why." And when I asked Eric this morning, he couldn't remember what was the cause of the tiff either.

Which, I guess, is a good thing: it means that whatever it was, we've resolved it and have moved on. Meaning we both aren't the type to harbpor resentment. See, I've always believed that couples who can stand going for long periods on end without speaking to each other over a fight are weird. Sure, a little time out is good once in awhile, but to not talk to each other for three weeks and still say na sila pa? Yup, weird.

Or maybe that's just me.

***

And because I just watched X-Men III awhile ago:

I'm now going to focus all my energies to getting Eric to even at least consider the name "Logan" if we have a boy.

Because "Wolverine" would be pushing it.

And "Hugh" doesn't sound nice when paired with a Chinese surname.

Yes, now this is definitely just me.

Pros and cons

The nice thing about being preggy is even though you get a big tummy after eating a heavy meal, there's no need to keep pulling your shirt down to hide it because everyone just assumes that's your pregnancy showing! (Never mind if you're only a little under 2 months and, technically, should be sporting just a bump and not a watermelon)...

The bad thing is once everyone sees that "preggy" tummy, all they want to do touch it! It's a bit disconcerting; I can't describe it, it just feels like it's something so personal. Inwardly, I react as if that person wanted to touch my boobs, but of course I can't shirk away, so I have no choice but to let them rub it and just say, "No, it's still too small to feel it moving...."

Sucker

Eric recently brought one of his dogs home from Manila to provide me some additional company, and if how I treat Toffee (that's her name) is an indication of how I'll treat my future child, then I'm in big trouble.

For one thing, everytime we eat, Toffee only has to look at me with those "puppy eyes" of hers and I end up all but giving her all the food on my plate. Eric says I should stop passing her food becuase it'll just make her fat and unhealthy, but I can't help it...Sometimes I try to be firm and ignore her, but everytime I sneak a peek, I can swear that she's looking at me reproachfully. So I cave in and toss her a piece of meat... or ten.

I also have a very strict rule of not allowing Toffee to go the second floor of the house (where the bedrooms are), but again, when I check on her in the kitchen, she just looks so sad and lonely that I've finally acquiesced and allowed her to romp upstairs. But so far, I've stuck to my guns and forbidden her from entering our bedroom. So far, I don't think I'll cave in on that.

Eric says that from the looks of things, I'll probably end up spoiling our child rotten, feeding him/her whatever he/she wants and breaking all my self-imposed rules just to keep him/her happy. Eeep.

Happy what day?

Some well-meaning friends greeted me a Happy Mother's Day yesterday, and while a part of me was touched by their thoughtfulness, another part of me just found the whole idea...wierd.

For one thing, I really feel it's too early to make any definite pronouncements (call me a cautious optimist, but until the baby comes out, I refuse to allow myself to feel super celebratory *knock on wood*). For another, I feel that motherhood is a distinction you earn, and not something you become just because sperm met egg.

Eric says I should lighten up and just enjoy all the extra attention. Maybe he's right.

Itchy feet

Am on Week 3 of my bed rest and I have two more weeks to go before I find out if I can finally leave the house.

And truth to tell, am already starting to feel the boredom. There's only so much one can do when stuck at home, since (1) technically it's not really my home to begin with so I really can't do whatever I want; plus (2) there are a lot of limitations (nothing strenuous, no heavy lifting, no climbing stairs too much). So I still spend my time entire frickin' day. I miss walking around, talking to people, and seeing new scenery, and my only consolation is as long as I stay a good girl and rest up for these few weeks, the chances of me getting the green light from my doctor to go out are higher.

Am this close to taking up knitting, crocheting or cross-stitching.

P.S. For some reason, people keep offering to lend me dvds of Korean dramas. No offense guys, but I'm not yet that bored....

Jologs thrill

Okay, so I’m not (yet) craving for food… but I think I’m craving for something worse—and that’s Pinoy Big Brother’s latest installment, the Teen Edition.

I think the kids are maarte, malandi, and oh-so annoying, but I can’t help it, I’m hooked on their antics and dramatics. It drives Eric crazy, the way I complain about how the kids act but don’t want to switch the channel, but what can he do, right? Deny his pregnant wife her thrills?

With this ring, I thee shackle...

A married friend of mine confided in me recently that she can’t get her husband to change his ways because “he knows that no matter what he does, he will always still have me in the end.”

I couldn’t forget what she said for the rest of the day, and even days after. I think that’s such a sad situation to be in, being stuck with putting up with something (or, in this case, someone) that’s clearly giving so much problems. I’m all for “for better or worse,” but I really think everyone, even a married person, should have some non-negotiables in life, especially where his or her happiness is concerned. A marriage shouldn’t be a life sentence.

Not for dog lovers

Eric and I thought “Must Love Dogs” was about a guy who hated dogs but had to pretend he did to get close to the woman that he liked. Unfortunately, that was far from the case, and it’s a good thing the DVD was on sale, because we felt seriously gypped.

The story wasn’t your typical romantic-comedy; it was too wordy and long-winded for our taste and didn't have that many kilig scenes. Diane Lane's character was kinda annoying, because throughout the film, she was just so desperate to hook a guy; and John Cusack didn't look as mabango as he did in his other films. But I loved the family interactions (kinda reminds me of my own, with the meddling and the needling) and the few dogs that they showed were really cute. Just wished they had shown more.

Trivia: I read somewhere that petting a dog (or cat) can actually lower one's blood pressure.

Name game

These days, it’s not unusual for Eric and me to blurt out names too each other out of the blue.

“Craig?”
“Conrad?”
“Sarah?”

That’s right, as early as now, we’re already thinking of names for the baby. It’s not easy, mind you. There are a lot of things to consider:

1) Eric wants at least one of the names (we’ve decided our kid would have two first names) to come from the bible.

2) We had to scrap some nice-sounding names because they remind us of people we don’t like and certainly don’t want to be reminded of every time we call our kid.

3) Similarly, we can’t name our child after the current hottest actor/actress because Lord knows how that celebrity will be like 20 years from now, and we certainly don’t want our son or daughter cringing “Eww, you named me after him???”

4) We also want names that are simple to spell and pronounce. Take it from me, having your name constantly misspelled can be a real pain. And I know of people who ended up having really weird nicknames because their grandparents had difficulty pronouncing their given names.

5) We thought about giving him/her a name from one of the places we went to on our honeymoon. So far, “Ayer” seems to make a good middle name (whether it’s a boy or a girl), but we’re still a little ambivalent on “Wellington” because it…well…sounds a tad bit too Chinese-y when you combine it with our surname.


Which reminds me… eep, we haven’t even started thinking about CHINESE names yet!!!!!

I'm back...and secret's out

I wasn't sure if I wanted to announce this in the blog, but my doctor told me to start a journal and rather than start one from scratch...well... okay...

Yes, I'm pregnant. Eight weeks on the way by tomorrow, to be more specific.

Thanks to all those who hazzarded guesses at my post below. Unfortunately, a promotion is in no way coming for me (I have resigned from work, will give more details on that in the future), and while a trip to Europe would've been great, I don't see that (or any other form of long-distance travelling) happenning in...oh, probably 2 years at the least.

The reason for my reticience... it's sorta kinda a delicate pregnancy. I've been spotting for about two weeks now, and my doctor has out me on bed rest. The ultrasound shows everything is okay and tehcnically, there's nothing to be alarmed about, but just to be safe, she's extended my bed rest for another THREE WEEKS. Not only can I not leave the house, I can't even leave my room. *Groan* Thankfully, there's a neverending supply of DVDs and VCDs to choose from, plus books and magazines galore. I'm also starting work on a jigsaw puzzle, which Eric doesn't want me to do so much because he feels it stresses me out.

No, I haven't been throwing up yet... Sometimes I feel nauseous in the morning but it usually dissipates after I sniff some ginger (yes, believe it or not, it works).

I haven't been feeling really sleepy or cranky (swear!!), and I don't have any food cravings yet. But my boobs are super tender and I seem to be more sensitive to noise and heat than usual.

Are Eric and I excited? A bit. Are we worried? Super. Worried if the baby is okay. Worried if we'll make good parents. Worried if the name we choose will scar our baby for life. Seriously, a friend told me that one is never really prepared to be a parent (or to be pregnant), until it's already there. Somehow, I find comfort in knowing that this is now one thing I'm not expected to be good at.

It's going to be an exciting seven months ahead (hopefully).... and hope I stay sane until the very end.

I have a secret....

I am positively bursting to share a particular piece of good news but I want to be doubly, triply, 210 percent sure before I make any announcements.

Wild guesses, anyone? Let's see who gets it right :)

Sunday can't come soon enough

A few weeks back, I finally arm-twisted wrangled a promise out of Eric that we would go to Tagaytay this Sunday. So far, he still seems game, so I'm scouring the Internet high and low for new restos to try out (because I know there's more to Tagaytay than Sonya's Garden) and new sightseeing spots to check out (because I know he hates it if we travel that far away "just to eat.")

We were tempted to hike up Taal volcano, but the summer heat is just too oppressive to encourage us to do anything strenuous, and I'm so out of shape that I'll probably just embarrass myself (and Eric) in the attempt. Next time nalang yan.

So far, places of interest include the Pink Sisters Convent, a honeybee farm, and a flower farm. If you guys have any feedback on these places or any other suggestions, please do drop me a line! Can't wait for Sunday!

Ice, ice, baby!

Ice was the major theme of the two movies Eric and I watched back-to-back yesterday.



The first was Ice Age 2: The Meltdown, although they should probably rename it "The Letdown" to truly describe what it really was. The sequel was super boring compared to the original, containing none of the wit, snazz or banter that endeared us to the characters. In fact, the movie really picks up only during the last 30 minutes of the film, but falls flat again during the last five. I think the only character I liked was the eaglet who briefly tussles with Scrat for the acorn.

Favorite line from Ice Age 2: "He puts the 'stink' in 'extinction.'"



Fortunately, the second movie we watched was way better. I went in to watch Eight Below fully expecting to cry a river and I did. But I also laughed, cheered and "aww-ed" a lot and I'm sure that I wasn't the only one who left the moviehouse wanting to own a Siberian husky of my own.

Favorite line from Eight Below: "You gotta take chances for the things you care about."

The day before tomorrow

The day before a major holiday (like Holy Week, All Saint's Day, and Christmas) is always the longest. Not to mention the most boring. The office becomes a virtual ghost town because half the staff is already on leave and the phones don't make a peep because most likely half their staff is also away. So far, I've been spending my day idly working on an article (meaning I revise a sentence every 20 minutes or so) and trying to beat my previous high score in Snood.

Is it 5pm already?

Cringe

I hate seeing myself on TV. I've guested on two television shows in my whole life and even though my mom taped them both, I could never bring myself to watch them. Call me vain, but I have this phobia that I don't look good on TV. So better that I don't confirm it.

Naturally, I had to make an exception when Eric and I finally got our wedding video yesterday. But the phobia was still there—throughout the show, I was as tense as a whip and my hands were actually clammy from sweat. As far as I can remember, the last time my hands were clammy from sweat was when I was about to take the UP College Entrance Exams in 1995. So yes, I was that antsy.

To be fair, the video was good, but there were lots of instances when I wanted to fast forward some scenes because they lingered too long on me. Of course, Eric wouldn't let me. And while I'm sure other new brides would've watched the video over and over in one night, I breathed a big sigh of relief when it was over and shoved the DVD into the cabinet, never to be viewed again.

But yeah, okay... I think I looked good naman.

An official "Good deed for the day"

Last week, I signed up to be a child sponsor for the World Vision organization. It's my first ever concrete attempt at social responsibility, and I'm feeling pretty good about it. For only P450 a month, my kid (who's from one of the poorest areas in Palawan) will get to go to school and have access to things we take for granted like clean water and healthy food.

I got to choose who I wanted to sponsor...and at first, I tried to be methodical. I searched for a kid who shared my birthday...Eric's birthday...my name.... Eric's name.... zilch. In the end, I saw the profile of this 10-year-old girl who listed down her favorite subject as "Math" and decided to go for her, just because I think she deserves credit for liking something I sorely detested when I was 10 years old.

Sponsors are encouraged to write to their kids so that we can get to know each other better, and I'm quite excited to send my first one. The problem is I'll have to brush up on my written Tagalog—-see, my oral Tagalog sucks, but my written one is plain embarrassing. Of course, one of the first things I will ask her is, "Bakit mo gusto ang Math?".

After TomKat...

Can you imagine this hot blonde....




Dating this guy?



Well according to this article, they are.

Kinda an odd coupling, if you ask me, but who are we to judge, right? I'm just glad it's David Spade and not George Clooney! May pag asa pa ako!

And it's not even a Monday

I've been going through an "I-hate-my-work-I-want-to-resign" phase lately.

I think it's because for one thing, I don't think the constant stress and adrenaline rushes (which I used to enjoy, mind you) that come with magazine work are good for my fertility. I really need to stop whizzing around and start relaxing more.

For another, the issue that I'm working on now is particularly tougher to put together. Subjects are hard to find and much harder to pin down, and nothing seems to go smoothly. Because there are two types of stress: there's the fun kind, when you know you're being challenged and you know it's just a matter of time before the matter gets resolved. But then there's also the kind of stress that leaves you thinking "Why the hell am I putting up with this?" Lately, it's more of the latter.

I know I have no right to complain of burnout, considering I've taken more vacations or working-vacations this first quarter of the year than in my whole life. But I think that's precisely what's bugging me... in spite of all these breaks, I'm still feeling.... bleh. I really think it's the baby thing.

I think the only thing stopping me from quitting right now (which everyone from Eric to my OB-Gyne agrees with) is I know there'll come a time when I'll get bored just staying in the house. I'm not sure if it's human nature; maybe it's just me, but I'm the type who can only laze around for maybe a couple of days... two week, tops. After that, I need something stimulating to do, or I'd literally be climbing the walls.

So unless I get knocked up soon.... or Eric volunteers to take me on a month-long sojourn in Europe...or I can come up with a part-time business to get into... I think I'm stuck here a little while longer.

On the other hand, all these could also just be a "Can't-wait-for-Holy-Week" phase...

Sh*t, double sh*t

I've been assigned to get in touch with a VVVIP (as in very, very VIP) to schedule an interview appointment, and since it's Holy Week next week (when the whole country goes into hiatus), I had to pin him down this week or it's a no-go at all.

When I asked my co-interviewer what date would be good for her, she told me that she was free anyday and everyday this week so it's Mr. VVVIP's call.

So when I ask Mr. VVVIP, he goes, "Okay, how about this day?"

I send my co-interviewer an "fyi" message and argh, she goes, "Oh, I can't that day because blah blah blah."

Okay, fine... I ask her again when else she's busy this week but she goes, "Oh, no, just on that day that he mentioned. All other days are fine."

So I tell Mr. VVVIP, "Sorry, but can we move it to another day? Any day but this day."

Fortunately, he goes "Sure, am fine on this other day."

I tell Ms. Co-interviewer and AGAIN she goes, "Ay, I can't rin, because of so and so. Can you move it to another day?"

Geez.... And it's not like her reasons were biglaan activities... They're the kind that you plan weeks ahead!

So now I'm tempted to tell her to be the one to talk to Mr. VVVIP to resched, because I'm the one starting to look like a spaz here.

Some of you may find this a bit superficial for me to get upset over but...I don't know... I just hate it when things like these happen...

Lifeguard on duty

I watched over a five-year-old girl in a swimming pool yesterday and it was the most nerve-wracking experience of my life.

See, the thing with kids is you don't know when they're just horsing around in the water or when they're actually on the verge of drowning! Worse if the kid, like the one yesterday, isn't afraid of the water but at the same time doesn't know how to swim! So on one hand, she loves splashing around, but neither does she want to be encumbered with holding onto the ledge or on a kickboard.

And it doesn't help that her idea of "holding on" is grabbing onto the straps of my bathing suit's top.

Hmm...I suppose this is good training for me as a parent-to-be. Besides, I guess this is chicken feed compared to the next time when I'll probably be teaching an eighteen-year-old kid how to drive!

The ideal workplace

For three days at Maribago Blue Water Beach Resort, I drowned myself in fresh lemongrass juice, feasted on melts-in-your-mouth oysters and scallops, wiggled my toes in the sand, and realized (for the umpteenth time) that I'm in the wrong line of work.









White sands, clear skies, clearer waters, and an amazing swimming pool right at your doorstep. What more could an employee ask for?

*Sigh* Back to reality, Jac....

Beaches and bruises Part II

In reply to my brother, who so eloquently put it in the Comments section of my post below:

"People will think that you have wild sex with a bruise like that."

You know what, I really don't think they'll think that... In fact, I think they'll think my husband BEATS me, because it looks really nasty.

Because now it's not just purple. It's purple with tinges of yellow and pink.

So now my goal is for the bruise to be less visible by SUNDAY, because there's no way it will disappear overnight in time for tomorrow.

But I'm still packing my swimsuit just in case.

Pwede naman mag-swim sa gabi e.

3...2...1... I'm outta here. See you guys on Friday!

Beaches and bruises

I won't be going out of town this Holy Week, but I think the weeks before that will more than make up for it.

There is, of course, that upcoming trip to Maribago this Wednesday to Friday.

When I come back, I rest for a day and on Sunday, I'm off to a hot spring resort in Pansol, Laguna, with Eric's friends.

And then a few days after that, Friday to Holy Monday, I'll be in Baguio with my family and Eric. And since it's Eric's first time to go to Baguio in ages (as in I think he wasn't even in pre-school yet when he last went up), I'm doubly excited to take him around.

A teeny-weeny bummer is the not so teeny-weeny bruise I have on the side of my thigh. If you must know, Eric's pony-sized (I kid you not!) labrador retriever kinda chomped down on me yesterday and while he didn't tear a hole in my jeans (thankfully, especially since I was wearing the pair that cost P4,000!!!), he left behind a souvenir that's getting more purple by the hour. I don't plan on parading myself on the beach but you have to admit it'll be harder to look confident in a swimsuit if you have a huge blemish on an exposed part of the body. Eric (gleefully, I think) says I should just ditch the swimsuit and walk around in shorts, but waah, nag-beach pa ako pag ganun, di ba?

Any tips on how I can make it look less-purple by Wednesday?

Perfect for "fat mode" days

I've come across my share of good reads, but I can hold off continuing to read them until I get home at the end of the day.

Not Jemima J. My cousin lent it to me last Sunday and after browsing the first few pages, I couldn't put the damn thing down, to the point that I bring it with me almost everywhere I go. to the bathroom. Down to breakfast. At the MRT. In the car (I read it when the stoplight is red... Bad of me, I know...). At my dentist's clinic. Even at work (I sneak in a few pages once in awhile, it's been a pretty slow week anyway).

The story is nothing new—plus-sized heroine dreams of living a better life as a stunningly slim blonde, but once she gets to that, she realizes that being physically beautiful isn't all that it's cut out to be. But the writing is simple and funny and the characters are lovable and funny (even the resident anti-heroine bitches) and the book really imparts a lesson that I think all women can relate to. After all, what woman doesn't wish she was taller, thinner, had lighter-coloed hair, etc.? Plus-sized or not, I think there's a Jemima in all of us.

I'm almost sad to have finally finished reading the book, but now I'm debating if I should just buy a copy of my own to keep. Because I think it'll just the perfect thing to pick me up on days when I feel all bleh and ugly.

So what if it's for work?

Maribago Blue Water Resort
March 29 - 31, 2006

Please, God, don't let it rain.

Heartbreak

Next to getting dumped by the man you love...

Or seeing a toddler beg for food on the streets...

I think there is nothing more heartbreaking than seeing/hearing your brand new cellphone fall to the ground for the first time.

I didn't know if it was the clatter of my phone hitting the tiled floor or my expletive that had even co-workers in neighboring cubicles raising their heads to find out what had happened.

Yes, both were that loud.

So far, there doesn't seem to be any visible damage, and there's no rattling sound when I shake it.

I think someone out there should start inventing some kind of mobile phone accessory where one's hands can practically be velcroed to the phone.

Guilt trip

I really need to take up a sport or a form of exercise. Lately, a lot of my interviewees have been asking me what exercises I engage in as part of post-interview small-talk, and it's getting embarrassing to not be able to say anything.

Well, okay, to be honest, I do have things to say... except they're more half-truths....okay, okay, LIES if you want to get all technical about it.

But hey, in my defense, I do brisk-walk or jog (but that's to and from the MRT when I'm running a bit late)...

And yeah, when I say "I used to do wushu, but I've been so busy lately...." I don't have to add that "used to" meant 8 years ago and it was just something I took up over the summer.

My other "used to's" include badminton (I think I was in grade school then!), ping pong, tennis and some indoor calisthenics (which I always tell myself I'm doing whenever I do household chores)...

And yes, I go swimming, although the pool we have at home is shaped in a for that's not exactly conducive to doing laps, so I don't think I'm getting real exercise when I go for a dip.

I need an exercise buddy. Or I really need to update the playlist in my MP3 because going jogging alone at night is just boring.

Or I think I need to get a dog, so I'll have a good reason to go out and walk at night.

Or maybe I just need to get off my butt, period.

Meet Sammy

Most subdivisions have problems with stray dogs, stray cats, and (for those who have nice gardens), stray salamanders.

But because OUR subdivision is known to be a sosi one, the strays also have to be sosi.

So...meet Sammy...the stray squirrel!



Actually, this wasn't the first time we saw Sammy. I saw him crossing the electrical wires outside our house a few months ago, but Eric and I didn't want to tell anybody because we didn't have a camera with us and no one might've believed us.



Well, Eric saw him again a few mornings ago in our garden and...ta-dah!



When we first moved in, we were already warned by Eric's friend, Renato, to expect the likes of Sammy. See, according to Renato, he visited another friend at our subdivision a couple of years back and when he went into the house, he saw his friend's driver playing with a slighshot. He thought the slingshot was for the stray cats, but when he asked, the driver said, "Hindi, sir, para sa mga squirrel."

Which was why I think of all our friends, Renato was the most excited when Eric and I moved in, because we could validate that friend's driver's claim.

So we weren't really surprised to see Sammy.



I haven't been this excited about a visitor coming to our home since....since...well, you really can't compare a squirrel to anything or anyone else, can you?

The last time I did something for the first time

Last night, I guested on RX 93.1's Heard on Thursdays program to promote the magazine and our special issue on 50 of the country's top entrepreneurs.



I was nauseous with nervousness on the way to the station but fortunately, everything was smooth sailing once the show started. I didn't sound like some ditzy kolehiyala (fear #1) and I didn't get bulol (fear #2).

Okay, so it helped that my two co-interviewees (featured in the special issue) were witty, articulate and, sige na nga, cute as hell, so subconsciously, I knew I couldn't afford to screw up in front of them.

Props also to the deejay/host, Raffy, who seemed genuinely interested in what we were talking about, so we felt quite at home.

And thank god for the wireless mics, which enabled us to sit wherever and however we wanted, so we were really relaxed.

Since I doubt I'll get this kind of opportunity again, let me thank the people who made the experience doubly memorable:

My mom, who recorded the show even if I didn't think of asking her to, so that I could hear how it all sounded...

My friends and relatives who sat through the entire one-hour program (no commercial breaks!) even if I know the topic can quite boring to some...

And of course to Eric, who gave up his nightly teleserye marathon to listen to me talk about something I know he also finds boring.

The only teeny downside was when I found out after the show that my mother-in-law had also tuned in! And I didn't even greet her on air when Raffy gave us the opportunity to do so towards the end of the program! Nyar. She didn't say anything when we spoke, of course, but still...Nyar.

But then again, how would I have greeted her? "'Hello' to my mother-in-law"?? Doesn't that sound weird?

Speak, Bruno, speak!

I'm worried about our neighbor's dog.

Which is a weird thing to be worried about, I know, but here's the story.

See, our bedroom and dining room is located right beside the neighbor's garage. Starting a few weeks ago, we began hearing the residents call out things like "Sit, Bruno!" or "Bruno, come here!" or "Bruno, no!" So obviously, they got a dog.

But the thing is, that's all Eric and I hear—the neighbors talking to the dog. Strangely, we've never heard the dog "talk" back. Not even a bark or a whimper.

"Maybe Bruno's not a dog," I told Eric one day. "Maybe it's a....rabbit?"

Because really, no dog is that quiet. Unless it's a chihuahua?

But who the hell would name a chihuahua "Bruno"? It's got to be a big, mean dog.

Then again, I suppose I should be thankful the dog's so quiet. I've experienced living next door to someone whose dog wouldn't stop yapping, and yeah, it can be really, annoying.

So the mystery continues. Abangan...

Jologs quiz

If I felt a frission of thrill when I saw that Judy Ann Santos' character is using the same bedsheets as I am in her teleserye...

Does that make me super jologs?

Space filler

Yiii, I can't believe I've been so remiss in updating my blog for the past weeks.

Thing have been crazy at work and in my personal life, and while they're the "good" kind of crazy, I don't feel comfortable sharing them here because there's the risk that I'll come off as...well, mayabang. But just to set the record straight, no, I haven't made editor-in-chief yet, and no, I'm not yet pregnant. But there have been a couple of other occurrences that have pretty much been making my days.

And, of course, there were the occasional "bad" kinds of crazy, but again, that's all in the past so no point talking about it anymore.

So I guess this whole update is absolutely useless, and I think I should've just not posted anything at all.

I, Joanne

There's this girl who was once my classmate in PE during my freshman year in college. Yes, imagine how long ago that was. We didn't exactly become close but because we went to the same college, we would always walk back together after class and trade gossip about professors and other campus figures. So we were okay.

Anyway, apparently she works in the building adjacent to the mall I'm in, because we've been running into each other every so often. And everytime we do, we wave and buss each other on the cheeks and exchange quick "hello's" and "Take care's."

The thing is, everytime she's with someone, she introduces me to that friend as "Joanne, my classmate from college."

I don't bother correcting her because...

I had forgotten her name myself!

I'm just glad that I'm always alone when I run into her. If I had to introduce her to MY companion, I wouldn't know what to call her!

Athough I have a feeling her name starts with a "J" as well. Still, I hope this theory never has to be tested.

Why you now REALLY have to catch "Crash"

To be fair, I haven't watched Brokeback Mountain yet so I don't know if it deserved to win, but either way, I'm thrilled that Crash won.

Thrilled because the win sends a message that you don't have to spend hundreds of millions of dollars to make a film that people will appreciate.

Thrilled because it's really a good movie with a good message to impart.

Thrilled because I can honestly say that, ehem, Eric and I watched (and appreciated) this movie way before it generated Oscar buzz.

Nest stop: Now who wants to watch Brokeback Mountain with me?

Perspective

Call me superficial....or call it human nature.... but I can confidently say that for the majority of us, not a day goes by that we don't find something to complain about regarding some aspect of our life.

I feel fat...Bad hair day....Overtime again???....Stupid events to attend....Argh!!!! Traffic!!!!!...Bakeeet ang iniiiiiiit????...All my clothes suck!!!....

You get the picture.

Now call me "feeling deep," but I can honestly say that for today, I will resolve not to bitch, rant, or bemoan about something. Even if just for today.

Because on my way to work this morning, I saw a man with no legs, wheeling himself around the driveway of Robinsons Galleria on a skateboard.

That's right: he was dressed in a polo shirt, slacks (from what I could see) and even had a nifty backpack (in short, not some taong grasa), but no legs from the knees down. Instead, he had rubber slippers on both hands to help propel himself forward.

And he was pretty good. I drove up just as he crossed the driveway from the main entrance of the mall and he effortlessly zoomed past, as if he had been doing it all his life (which he most probably has). If I had my camera, I would've been tempted to take a picture (even if it would have probably looked very rude).

There's a small rise between the driveway of the mall and the pedestrian lane where he was headed, and I literally stopped my car just to see how he would manage with his skateboard.

Well, he did: he stopped, flipped to his knees, propped up the skateboard, flipped back to sitting on the skateboard, and then zoomed away.

Effortless. Nakakabilib.

And it really made me realize how much I have to be grateful for, and how, when I think about it, how mababaw I am when it comes to finding things that are wrong with my life. Because if there's anyone who has the right to complain that life sucks, it should be that guy. But there he was still, literally, pushing on.

Call me morbid, but I think we all need to see leg-less skateboarders once in awhile.

You know what I mean.

Bleh

So my belated birthday dinner-party last night was a bit of a dud. Dinner started around 8pm.... and everybody left by 10pm! Blame the hyperactive Philippine media—what was just one marine's personal tampo (misplaced as it was) became "a possible coup d' etat" or "civil unrest" in the eyes of the media. And since our house was located near Fort Bonifacio, many of my friends' parents kept calling their kids, telling them to leave early. So leave they did.

But in a way, it was a blessing in disguise. I wasn't exactly feeling 100% last night; my tooth had been hurting like hell since Friday night and I couldn't eat or talk much without wincing in pain every few minutes. A trip to the dentist this morning confirmed my worst fears, and let's just say it's a good thing I'm not a shopaholic because I foresee my spending power getting drasticallly cut in the next couple of months over the procedure I'll have to go through.

It's going to be a busy week for me, and an exciting one for the country. And it wouldn't be a Monday if I didn't have something to bemoan.

Paris for a day

A few days ago, an FM radio station asked listeners to text in who they would want to be if they could live a celebrity's life for a day.

Right away, I thought: Paris Hilton



Because I think we're total opposites in EVERY aspect, so much that way before that radio survey, I've already long wondered what it would be like to be in her shoes.

How about you guys, whcih celebrity would you want to be for a day?

"Love means never having to say you're sorry"

Which is one of the most bullshit things I have ever heard of in my whole life.

Because I think love is all about saying sorry.

When you know you're wrong, just swallow your pride and apologize.

And even when you know you're right (but he stubbornly insists you're wrong) and it's just a petty matter anyway, just swallow your pride and apologize too.

And in return, love is also about whole-heartedly accepting an apology when it is offered, and not throwing the issue back in his or her face when the next fight occurs....or not dragging it out to the point of making him or her grovel....or not saying "I told you so" when you are proven right.

Because love is about respecting each other, and accepting that we're all only human.

Cheap thrill

I'm putting all my "serious" books back in the shelf for awhile because my cousin just lent me this:



That's right, I am a gossip junkie, and even though I prefer Angelina than Jen for Brad, I'm still eager to know the story of the original Pitts.

It's not really a tawdry tell-all, mostly just reprints of interviews Brad and Jen have done for diffferent shows and magazines, as well as the usual quotes from "sources close to Brad and Jen who do not want to be named."

I'm still in the couples' early blissful years, so one of shocking revelations that I got wasn't about them, but about one of Brad's friends, Randy Gerber (married to Cindy Crawford).

Apparently, Jen doesn't like Randy so much because there were rumors at that time that Randy had cheated on Cindy Crawford (so he might be a bad influence on Brad daw).

Waaaat?!

I mean, we're talking about Cindy Crawford. The woman has everything! Why would a guy in his right mind still cheat?? Guys are so weird... .

School senti

There's nothing like going back to school to make one feel old nostalgic...even if it was the Ateneo and not my alma mater... and even if I was there for work.

Call me a nerd, but passing by classrooms in session made me miss my old professors.

And walking under the trees made me think of [ehem] UP's bigger and greener open spaces...

And seeing those students hanging around the benches...they all look so young that I couldn't help but also think, "Did I really look that young when I was in college?"

I'm so old. And what's worse, I'll feel older tomorrow... literally!

***

Something to think about...

At the Ateneo today, quite a few people asked me over chit-chatting if I was an alumna. I said no, and before I could tell them where I was from, they immediately guessed, "Ah, from UP."

Which made me realize.... a lot of people I've met over the years always assume I'm either from the Ateneo or UP. But no one has ever assumed that I'm from La Salle... or UA&P... or UST. Hmm..... Bakit kaya?

At least I got home in time for "American Idol"

I don't go to media events expecting to be treated like some VIP, but tonight was one for the books.

It was for the grand launch of The Icon condominium project at The Fort. I've attended these real estate things before and they're usually casual, breezy affairs, so I expected tonight to be the same. Not.

For one thing, it wasn't just a grand launch, it was a sosi grand launch. As I neared the venue, I saw the spotlights...the white tents...the tables with the white tablecloths and colorful sashes...the waiters carrying champagne... The optimist in me thought, "Hey, cool, at least the food will be good."

As I went even nearer, though, I saw the other guests more clearly now and my optimism turned to panic--argh, it was a formal event!! The men were in suits or barong, the women in long gowns, make-up, and perfectly coiffed hair. And because there was nothing in the invitation I received that said "Attire: Formal," there I was in just a semi-dressy top, jeans, and open-toed sandals! The clincher: I was so underdressed that as I stood there, one of the Icon people even approached me and tapped me on the shoulder to ask, "Miss, who invited you?"

Mukha akong gatecrasher!!!!

I gave her the name of the PR girl I RSVP-ed to a few days ago and they went off to find her. I politely asked the remaining staff if they had a press kit... and they just exchanged blank looks. Because they had none?? I mean, what's the point in inviting the media if you don't have a press kit?! Unless, it's a purely sosyalan thing... but again that wasn't indicated in the invitation.

I texted my boss to ask if we had a good relationship with the PR agency who sent the invite, because if they did, I would just grit my teeth and sit through the event. She texted me back to tell me that she didn't "know her from Eve," which meant we didn't owe them anything at all.

So screw it, I went back to my car and left. It's a good thing The Fort is just near my place, otherwise I'd be more upset that I am now.