Queen Fisher

queenfisher is out of here and moving elsewhere

thanks.

I took quite a long leave from blogging. Seven months! The truth is, I’ve started writing several entries but I found it too difficult to finish. It started last February. I’ve written at least three entries on the first week of Feb alone but never posted them, especially after my father-in-law died. I felt they were too trivial and shallow to publish.

Around the same time, I read someone complaining about mababaw blogs and how they are a waste of space. And I thought stories about breaking out in hives after a dermatologist suggested I undergo whitening (No effing way!) or drinking with high school friends till the early dawn or shopping with my sister-in-law are definitely shallow. Funny stories but shallow.   By the time I realized that I should never let people tell me that my thoughts and experiences are shallow. It was too late. Those entries will never find their way to this blog, kasi panis na sila.

Still, I know I should write about more important things so…I’ll do that in the future. For now let me just be my former shallow self. Pagtiyagaan n’yo na.

Anyways, what got me blogging again? Husband Raymund insisted I check out his blog (I haven’t been reading blogs or checking mails for a few months now.) because he mentioned me on some entries. So yesterday, I logged on to the internet and found his blog and found out he’s tagged me. Rumor has it that if you are tagged you should write ten weird things or unknown facts about yourself. I didn’t want to take that seriously but Raymund would bug me until I do.

So here they are the bizarre and the unknown about Edna “Pom” Prangue Cahilog-Villanueva:

1. I don’t like chocolate—If you open our fridge at home, you would see huge bars of Toblerone and Hershey’s chocolates and a big bowl full of bite-size chocolates from various countries. But I don’t eat them. I may eat a tootsie roll or a few Kisses when I’m in the mood for it but that’s like once in a blue moon. Still, family and friends when they travel almost always bring back chocolates as pasalubong so I stick them in the fridge for my husband and some friends, nieces and nephews who come to visit. (I think some only visit me for the chocolates, though.)

2. I am so good at hiding things. So good, that even I can’t find them. That is why for my Harry Potter 7 reservation receipt, I wrote myself clues which I placed in my wallet, on the refrigerator door and on the office corkboard so I won’t forget where I hid it. I can only wish I did the same for my passport.

3. I may have been a criminal in my past life. I pick locks, I pick pockets and I cheat during card games. The first, I learned when I was about eight and honed when I was in college because I was always breaking curfew. When I became too drunk to climb fences, I pick the locks. I’m still quite good at it today mainly because I’m always losing my keys. The second, I only do to mess with friends and family. (Promise!) On my very first movie date with Raymund, back when he was still trying to impress me, I picked his wallet just when he was about to pay for our tickets. He searched everywhere (he looked like he was dancing the maglalatik for a while) before he finally turned to me helplessly. Doing my best to look indignant, I asked him if he wanted ME to pay for the tickets and the popcorn and the drinks. Embarrassed, he said yes, (and of course promised to repay me as soon as possible) so I fished HIS wallet out of my bag and asked “How much?” Believe me his expression that day was unforgettable. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for the movie. The third, I only do when I don’t like the person I’m playing with or when I’m playing with my drunk friends or when (I was still in college) my allowance was running out and again, my friends were too drunk to notice anyways. Serves them right, the drunkards! Lol!

4. I collect fishes. Plates, key chains, mugs, watches, pillowcases, stuffed toys, shirts…anything with any fish on it. This is not really weird and not really unknown since a lot of people know I collect fishes but why do I collect fishes? See! I always say I love fishes and I can’t have real live ones because I always end up killing them. (So I’m a murderer, too?) The truth? My friends started giving me fishes because (they say) I’m always fishing for compliments, thus the name queen fisher. How boring, right? Next! 

5. I once scrubbed a toilet bowl using someone’s toothbrush because she made me really mad. So don’t piss me off. This is the why I never leave my toothbrush in the bathroom. Ever!

6. I killed a neighbor’s chicken (okay, I’m definitely a murderer. Animal-lovers want my blood now!) When I was in college, our neighbor’s chicken treated my bedroom as a private toilet. Everyday, I would come home to my clothes and my bed garnished with chicken poop. One day, I walked in on it making number two on a reaction paper that took days to write. That night, I ate the most satisfying chicken adobo ever and I thank my high school Home Economics teacher, Mrs. Carbonera for teaching me how to kill and dress a chicken. 

7. I am a closet Sharonian…well now I’m not anymore. (At least to the people who read my blog!) Most of my friends think I really hate her because I’m always making fun of her and spoofing her but the truth is: Sharonian po talaga ako. I’d buy almost everything that Sharon endorses – except, of course, Nestle Ice Cream, which I’ll NEVER buy. I am also the biggest Sharon-Gabby fan ever. I’ve seen all their movies (I sometimes stay up late if one of their old movies is being shown on PBO), I love their daughter KC- I’d buy almost everything she’d endorse, too. If I see Sharon or KC on the cover of a magazine, I almost always end up buying it. I know, I’m such a sucker!

8. I played with paper dolls up to my twenties. I started making paper dolls when I was in second grade. My father built me a very cute wooden house for my dolls that my brother wired so it had electricity and stuff. So cool! And all these because we could not afford a Barbie, or any doll for that matter. So I made paper dolls and played with paper dolls until I had to leave for college. When I was 21, I went home for three whole months and made an entire paper doll village under our dining table. My nieces and nephews loved it. Their mother hated it. One nephew even deliberately missed basketball practices just so he can play with the dolls. (We discourage stereotyping in our family.) My sister-in-law hated it partly because she thought I was turning her sons gay (which my dear brother promptly corrected saying I was just encouraging the kids to be creative. How cool is he?) I think she was angrier about all her old magazines that I cut out to make doll clothes and her rolls of toilet paper that I used up to make wedding gowns with very long trains for the dolls. My nieces loved these gowns too much I had to create two paper dolls everyday so we can hold a paper doll wedding ceremony everyday. And of course, I had to make more cardboard houses and paper clothes for all our characters. Sadly, I had to come back to Manila and the real life. My sister-in-law threw everything away the day after I left. Aaaahh…

9. I have a weird accent and I get teased a lot for it. I’ve never really noticed and I still don’t believe it but well…I don’t know where I got it though. Probably by watching too much American crap on TV (I still do. What can I say? Crap TV is good!) or because in elementary school, we had to pay 25 centavos for every Bisaya word we say inside the classroom. (And let me just say now that if this is still practiced today it should stop because it is bigoted and discriminatory and it’s cruel. They are practically stealing from kids who should not be faulted for speaking their own language. I mean, would you force French kids to speak Hindi?) Anyways, I was so scared of losing all my baon just to pay for speaking my own language that I ended up speaking English even when I’m just buying suka, toyo or asin from the sari-sari store. Not a few volunteers have asked me where I got my accent and a British volunteer once made fun of how I sound so American. I didn’t really mind because I couldn’t really understand her most of the time though I loved her accent. (She talked for hours about almost missing the bloody boit and other boit stories in the Philippines and it was only at the end that I realized she was talking about boats!) Anyways, I’m getting tired of being mocked so now I’m working on my Australian accent– so g’dye, myte, howr you todye? See you lytah.

10. I’m a speed reader – I don’t know why I included this…I just ran out of things to write about myself. I was going to write I’m a frustrated singer but hey, I’m Filipino, I’m supposed to be a frustrated singer. But this is true anyways, that I’m a speed reader, that is. I think only five people know this. Four of them I’m positive don’t read my blog so this qualifies as an unknown. I’ve certificates and awards to prove it, too. But who cares?

Now, I’m supposed to tag six blogs…raymund and I read the same blogs…hmmm… pwede ba kopya?

Ilang-ilang -  http://ilangq.wordpress.com/

Ina - http://allecoallende.blogs.friendster.com/my_blog/

Malcolm Trevena – www.crazymalc.co.nz

and

Mao–  http://stellarossa.wordpress.com.

Lorelie Johnson - http://travelblog.org/Bloggers/ngaio/

Ito bagong-bago from an old friend, bago pa lang ang blog niya.

Vernadette Primicias -   http://jotterofvernadette.blogs.friendster.com/nuninuni

That’s six then…I should have included my husband’s blog but he was the one who tagged me so I think I’m not allowed to do that. Let me just say though that I think he only tagged me to get me blogging again. As to why he would want to read my blog? I don’t really know. Maybe he is a masochist. Or maybe I’m just fishing. Again.

Be happy everyone.

><)))’>

‘My eight year old niece was given her mom’s old cellphone last Christmas. I was against her having a cellphone at such a young age but hey, she’s not my daughter. Anyways, she was so excited she texted and called everybody to announce she got a phone.

The other day she came up to me and asked if I remembered getting a call from her New Year’s Eve. I said “Yes,” and she said, “We talked for quite a while, right?” I nodded. She then smiled sweetly and whispered: “Well, you see, I ran out of load…”

As I watched her walking happily to the store to buy credit for her phone, I told my sister again that Andrea should not have a phone yet. And she just laughed at me.

                                                ><)))’>

I’m really starting to regret writing my last blog entry.  I was deluged with emails from friends about it.  I didn’t know other people, aside from my husband, read my blog.   Most expressed worry (though this is nothing new, many of my friends are always worried about me) others assurances that I will make a good mother someday (I’m not a hundred percent on that yet but thanks anyways guys).  There were a few sex advices (all funny, none gross) and the weirdest email said: “Finally, you’re pregnant! Congratulations!” Ah, I didn’t think she read my blog, or if she did, she did not understand a word. (And what does that say about my writing skills?)

Many emails started with “Is it rude if I asked you…”  Well that’s my fault. I think I gave the impression that it would be rude to ask me questions about pregnancy and stuff.  It’s not.  I just hate it when people I’ve never met before ask me really personal questions like how often we do it in a week or even people I know who ask obvious questions and ask me these same questions, over and over and over again.  Like some people who I just saw last week and then ask me today: “Wala ka pang anak?” as if we were talking about ordering pizza, or buying clothes.   Rude is like one of this emails that I received where I was told (in reaction to my statement that “I’ll find something to do and still be happy”) that there is no greater happiness in the world than motherhood. Well, gee, I’m sure of that, but I was writing about my own happiness, my own experiences so go write your own blog.

My bestest friend ever was just so happy that I am happy.  Usually I’m just miserable.  Sometimes it’s just hard to see the good side of things ….its hard to unlearn pessimism.  But I wonderful friends and family around me so I should manage.  Also, talking to the beautiful Len also helps me realize the good things in my life. (hehehe, joke lang po!)

Anyways, after reading 27 emails I realized that there are a lot of bored people in the world, and many of them are in my circle.  I should start a book club or something.

Be happy everyone.

                                                   ><)))’>

Yesterday was a freaky day.  I wasn’t feeling well so I stayed at home and watched TV the whole day and what was weird was I kept changing channels and all I got were movies about pregnant women and men (!), documentaries about pregnancy, a missing pregnant woman and pregnant pandas.  I e-mailed a friend about it today and she said I should go buy a pregnancy test kit right away.  Now, that would be waste of money because it is that time of the month for me so…

This actually happened to me once before. It was like a whole week and everybody was talking about pregnancy, and many of my friends announced they were pregnant…. I remember too I had a weird dream about babies around that time I just don’t recall what the dream was but I remember writing about it in one of CEGP’s beloved dirty logbooks. But maybe it was all because of that movie I watched then about a pregnant giant lizard that gave birth to pregnant babies.  I really didn’t  like that movie.  Still, it was so crazy the same friend told me I should get a pregnancy test.  But since I wasn’t the perfect candidate for immaculate conception and nobody appeared to me in a dream to tell me I would get pregnant, I told my friend to buy the kit instead because the signs may have been for her and not me.  She confessed today that she did panic and bought a pregnancy test kit.   My God!

Part of me wishes it is indeed a sign or something.  We’ve been trying to get pregnant for almost five years now. (Actually, we tried five years ago, failed.  Tried again 3 years ago. Failed again. Basically, my doctor told me I was too stressed out to get pregnant.  Well, first of all a work-up isn’t exactly a massage, and what with everybody breathing down my neck giving me insane advices on how to get pregnant plus all those expensive medicines and treatments…It was just impossible to relax!) Then last year I turned 30 and we decided to try again.  We opted for an alternative method this time so we go to weekly acupuncture sessions now and sneak in ventosa and massage treatments from time to time —now this is relaxing.  (Most of my friends who know I am deathly afraid of needles are quite impressed.  Well it’s not really those kinds of needles, guys, because, really, if I see just a little blood, I’m out of there.)

My husband who is a crazy blogger and writes everything in his blog would kill me when he reads this because I have specifically warned him NOT to write about it. I just did not want people asking me all the time if the treatment is working or telling me what other things I should do instead to get pregnant (I still cringe when I recall one of Raymund’s many aunts talk to me on the best sexual position so I’d get pregnant and the best positions if I wanted a boy or a girl…yikes!  It wasn’t really what she said, but how she said it.) 

But really, you can’t stop people from asking and speaking their minds.  You see when you’ve been married seven years and don’t have a baby yet, people will always ask you what, when, where, why, how.  Most people, especially if you are related to them even by just a drop of blood, have this warped sense of entitlement to your private and personal life.  This is the primary reason why I have been avoiding baptisms, family gatherings, weddings and just about any occasion where people talk and ask about babies, where even people whom you’ve never seen before in your entire life are asking you why you are not pregnant yet .  Sometimes. I want to ask “who are you again?” But, of course, Ms. Uncomfortable-but- still-have-to-be-Nice-Me would just smile and answer the whats, whys and the whens of them all.  

The worst and meanest comment though was from someone who was supposed to be a politically-correct person who called out in a middle of a huge protest action: “Hoy, baog, halika nga!” I cried about it for hours (not really because of what she said, though that was really mean, but I just can’t stand being publicly humiliated)   A common friend told me, that she was just really tactless and didn’t mean what she said.  My sister Emily said I should just ignore vile comments like that and to never ever believe that a woman’s worth is measured just by her ability to bear kids.  (Mabuhay ka, Emily. Walang sinabi si Sushmita Sen sa ‘yo.) I, of course, vowed I would never forgive that *!&)$.  But I do remember I was also mean to a mother once.  It was a hot day and I was walking to the office when I met a colleague who was with her two kids.  She was carrying one kid on one arm and was carrying a huge bag on the other. Her other kid was holding on to her blouse.  And she really looked sweaty and tired.  When she saw me, she sort of lifted her baby higher and told me “Inggit ka, ano?” I retorted: “Bakit ako maiinggit? Tingnan mo nga ‘yang hitsura mo.”  She told me: “Ang sama-sama mo.”  Later I realized she was right, but her comment was not too nice either.  I apologized, she apologized and now we can laugh about it.  Maybe people really don’t mean to be rude.  They just are sometimes. May tama si Dumbledore:“…accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often.”

Anyways, why I am writing about it now?  I don’t really know. I just am.  Or maybe because of the crazy TV day yesterday. Or maybe because it is an emotionally pregnant day for me…the things you think of when you are alone and there’s nothing to see on TV and you’ve just read and re-read and re-read to the nth time all the reading materials in your house.  Or maybe I am ready for questions, advises, whatever.  Bring it on people (just please no sex advise or if you really have to give it, just don’t be gross. ) I do feel a lot better and calmer about this whole non-pregnancy thing.  When people ask me why I am not pregnant yet, I answer because I am not. And yes, we want to have kids but we don’t have any yet.  Then I change the topic.  If they are insistent, I tell them Raymund and I will work on it when we get home.  If they are prudes, that shuts them up or if they are lucky enough to have sense of humor, it cracks them up.  And then we move on to other things.  Most seem to be more respectful now.  Or maybe they are tired of asking…(or I think they are all just  busy bothering my 30-year-old sister-in-law why she isn’t married yet…but she handles herself well so good for her.) Now, I don’t have those moments anymore when I wish I have gotten pregnant first before I got married and could have avoided all the pressure. And why should I?  I’ve been married for seven wonderful years to the man I love who loves me back.  I’ve done so many things that maybe I could not have done if I had kids.  I have a beautiful relationship with my in-laws.  I think I am actually…happy.  

But I do still want to have kids.  That’s why we’re trying still.    And although there are moments when I look at all our dying and dead plants and look back at the many fishes we have flushed down the toilet or thrown in the trash, have moments of self-doubt, and I feel that maybe we are not ready yet…we’re not even ready for a dog!  But then it is silly to compare a baby to plants and pets. Or not. Maybe I’m just telling myself this so I won’t get disappointed if all these don’t work.  I’m sure we’ll make good parents someday, after all we’ve been taking care of nieces, nephews, cousins, friends’ kids…  Hey, I’m still young, hopefully I get pregnant before I turn 40. Ha! I can already imagine our kid(s) playing with our friends’ grandchildren!   I once read about an 80-something-year-old woman who gave birth but please, dear God, PLEASE don’t let that happen to me…I am really not that desperate.

Anyways, in 10 years time and we don’t have something yet maybe we’ll get another fish—an expensive one so we’ll try harder to keep it alive.  And get a dog. And see the world, or if finances don’t allow, see the country.  Whatever.  And now that I think about it, there are so many kids out there who need parents. Maybe we’ll adopt one.  What the H, I’m getting mushy!  We will definitely get a dog.  Whatever.  I’ll probably find things to do and still be happy.

Or maybe I should start believing in signs…and go bonkers? Nah.  Just be happy, everyone.

******

I don’t usually do New Year’s resolutions because I know I’m just kidding myself really.  But I have a resolution now that I really intend to keep for the years to come.  Starting this year I vow to be a kinder person. Kinder to others, but most importantly, kinder to myself.

Since arriving in Manila last June, mama and papa have been nagging us to take them back to Isabela.  If they had their way, they wouldn’t have left Isabela (except for the occasional visit) but since Papa needs to have regular check-ups, the family decided it would be easier for him and Mama to stay here.  My nurse sister-in-law Julie has taught all of us how to get Papa’s blood pressure, how to operate the nebulizer and oxygen tanks and which medicines to give him whenever his blood pressure shoots up or goes down. 

Last Sunday, Raymund and I drove Mama and Papa back home.   Okay, Raymund drove and I slept on the passenger seat, if I wasn’t eating, or singing (badly, I should add.)  But my off-key singing kept Raymund awake, so I wasn’t completely useless. With us were Chloe (our precocious 4-year old niece), Vincent (good friend and co-worker) and Rambo (the family mutt a.k.a Raymund’s younger brother.)

I never tire of traveling to Isabela.  The Caraballo mountain range is beautiful and at this time of the year there are bright yellow sunflowers growing everywhere.  The wild sunflowers reminded me so much of Baguio in the early 90’s when I studied there. They are almost gone now. The bright yellow flowers also brought me back to my childhood.  No, we didn’t have wild sunflowers in Mindanao. (A neighbor had those big sunflowers on her front yard and it has always fascinated me how they always turn towards the sun.) What we had are those weeds growing on our roadsides with tiny bright yellow flowers.  They were everywhere (I call them weeds, but I’ve seen them in some gardens and garden stores here in Manila).  When I was little, I picked those flowers on the way home from school to make wreaths for my hair and for my nanay.  They were not really nice smelling, but they were so lovely to behold.  They’re all almost gone now, too.  Aaah, development.

One of the things I always look forward to when travelling to Isabela is the Pancit Cabagan.  Doesn’t sound very appetizing, I know, but it’s actually named after the town of Cabagan in Isabela where it originated.  The moment we get to Isabela I always look forward to stopping by a Feli-Citas’ restaurant (there’s a branch in almost every town/city in Isabela.) for the super special pancit (or super jumbo if we’re really hungry—which is most of the time.)  Raymund actually decided not to stop for pancit (crazy, right?) but a bird flew straight into our windshield and plopped dead on his leg and he felt so bad he needed some comfort food.  And Mama insisted we stop for pancit, so we did. And Raymund (who should always have the last word) said we had to stop anyways to break the malas brought about by killing a bird (so much for being a materialist.)

Isabela was so cold, Chloe declared it’s winter there. Ha-ha!  I made the mistake of bringing only sleeveless tops and short pants (I even forgot to bring a windbreaker) so I was shivering the whole time I was there.  Mama kept offering to lend me a sweater but I told her I loved the cold as it’s so refreshingly different from Metro Manila. Which maybe reinforced her belief that I was somewhat mentally unbalanced? Oh, well…

Auitan looked so different.  The frequent floods and typhoons have taken their toll and have subdued the usually very colorful and lively village.  Typically, most families are already outdoing each other with Christmas decor and lights around this time until the fiesta on the first week of February.  I didn’t see a single Christmas light in the entire community during our stay.  Even Mama, who used to look forward to putting up lights all over the house and the garden, cannot be bothered to bring them out of storage.  I’m guessing the fiesta this year would not be as grandiose as it was years back.  Still, Papa looked so happy to be home and suddenly developed a huge appetite.  I hope he will be stronger when we visit again on Christmas.

The trip was not only to bring back the in-laws to Isabela, though.  We had some ulterior motives.  We were also there to get the baul Mama promised me and the fan she was lending us.  Raymund also discovered his grandfather’s old wooden suitcase that needed a little work, an old wooden coin bank which used to belong to his grandfather and handed down to an uncle then to Raymund,(his lola, Ande, wrote down his name on the lid so it’s rightfully his, he claims.) and a few other thingamabobs.

The trip back was uneventful.  No birds killed. Yey! But we still stopped by the last Feli-Citas in Cordon before leaving Isabela.  That’s our Isabela road trip tradition, you know.  In Caranglan (Nueva Ecija) we stopped again to take a dip in the pristine river.  (It was too cold for Raymund to take a bath in Isabela.)  Raymund was prancing around in his briefs, it was kinda funny but that’s only because I am married to him (might not be a very pleasant thing to imagine if you’re not…so move along…) I was a little worried, too, because the last time I saw a guy in his underwear in the great outdoors, I got lost in Sagada and had to walk for miles!

We stopped one last time to pick beautiful sunflowers and I put them on an empty Redbull bottle.  We didn’t pick enough to make a wreath…but they are so beautiful I’m pressing one to put on my journal. 

(Raymund wrote about this trip, too.  See here.)

When my friend Mao asked me last week to be her “date” for the opening of Cine Europa 9, I was excited until I saw the invite that said I was supposed to wear business attire.  I don’t do business attire.  But by Thursday afternoon, I was on my way to Shangri-La Mall in my seldom worn taupe jacket (it was only the second time I wore it), freshly pressed black pants, my black silk blouse (which I bought on sale and has been sitting in my closet for more than 3 months), my beaded pointed black sandals (I still have blisters on my feet) and swinging a black leather bag (that I picked up from the sale rack a long time ago and has sat in the closet with the tag still on it.) I must have really looked very business-y because when I entered the mall from the MRT station the lady guard bowed while saying “Welcome to Shangri-La mall, madam.”

I was still laughing when I got on the elevators.  People must have thought I was crazy.  But I couldn’t help it.  I have never been called madam before.  And I’ve been to that mall like a thousand times to meet friends and to window shop but I was never called madam.  And most certainly, nobody ever bowed before.  The bow was hilarious.  It still doesn’t beat that one time when I went to this upscale restaurant and was welcomed to the restroom with a bow. Weird, yes, but that’s another story.

Anyways, Mao and I arrived too early for the opening cocktails so we did a little window shopping and had dinner (takot magutom) before proceeding to the sixth floor.  It looked like not all of us took the business attire thing seriously.  I was starting to regret wearing that warm jacket (it did prove very appropriate inside the freezing cinema.), but at least I didn’t stand out   There was a woman who looked like she just came from being a principal sponsor at the wedding (complete with matrona make-up and hairdo, opkors!)  There were also two girls who were dressed like bridesmaids so I was almost expecting to see a bride and a groom. There was another guy who dressed like he was a member of the Chinese mafia complete with the girlie entourage. Pero, in fairness, carry naman. (That last sentence is just in case that guy reads this blog and in case he really is with the mafia. It can be disregarded.)  And there was this guy who looked like “napadaan lang”.   I’m almost sure he’s an artist. O baka talagang napadaan lang siya at nakikain. 

While I was looking over the other guests, Mao went to sample the food. She brought back a small plate with everything on it.  The food was great, though I was already quite full so I didn’t enjoy it much. Sayang. Mao loved the éclairs and would have gone back for seconds if only she wasn’t too shy.  Those éclairs haunted her all night.  The wine was alright and the iced tea a little too sweet for me.  We later got bored just standing around sipping red wine and even the thought that we were “wining and dining” with ambassadors and maybe some filmmakers and artists didn’t do much to lessen the boredom. And our legs were starting to hurt. (Why can’t we ever just sit during cocktails?!) But at least we were both wearing flats.  Finally, the organizers announced that the program was starting. An old European guy passed in front of us and whispered “Here comes our punishment for drinking the wine.” Then he smiled and winked.  I like the EU hymn and that was maybe the best part of the program.  I think the ambassadors have stayed in the Philippines too long, though. God, was that "short program" long!

There were two films to choose from that night.  Austria’s Karo und der Liebe Gott (Karo and the Lord) and Finland’s Menolippu Mombasaan  (One way ticket to Mombasa).  Mao and I both decided on the Finnish film

The film was about this young guitarist (Pete) who was in love with this girl (Kata).  He was about to fulfill his dream to be in a real band then learns he has cancer.  His hospital roommate is a funny guy (Jusa) whose life’s dream is to go to Mombasa and get laid (or whatever comes first).   One night, they got drunk, escaped from the hospital and planned their Mombasa trip.  But of course Pete needs to see Kata first to profess his love. Aaawww…

I love, love Jusa.  (Mao and I agreed he owned the film.)  From the moment he appeared onscreen, he stole the show.  (Though I thought he looked too healthy at times…I mean, wasn’t he supposed to be very ill and dying.) Pete paled in comparison. He was the better looking one, of course. But good looks can only get you so far. In some scenes, it almost looked like it was him who was going to die. 

I didn’t quite like the girl who played Kata, I don’t know why.  She was pretty but I thought she looked awkward and unsure—and I’m quite certain that wasn’t just her take on the character.  Good thing (and bad for the girl) the cinematography was so beautiful [mostly in her scenes] especially in the latter half of the movie.  She totally faded against the beautiful Finn countryside.  I loved the final beach scene the most.  The shot was so breathtakingly beautiful.

Overall, I loved it.  It was funny yet moving and was not over the top.  I loved that the story was told straight and simple without too much burloloy like many local films. 

Mao and I are planning a marathon viewing next Saturday.  And you bet no one will be bowing and calling me madam then.

* * *

While I’m writing this, my husband is watching a Desperate Housewives marathon on DVD. I wonder if he is just trying to understand me better. I hope not. He is really enjoying it though. Ha.

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Updates on being a domestic goddess:  My husband has been (badly) bitten by the decorating bug and went ahead and bought 2 old narra chairs that I was admiring when we visited a junk shop last week.  I only said “nice chairs” and I really wasn’t implying anything! He also bought a desk. I hope it’s as beautiful as he described. But I do trust my husband’s taste especially when it comes to wooden furniture.  He grew up surrounded with those beautiful antique narra chairs, tables and shelves. Now I’m feeling the pressure to really, really clean that spare room. (if this is your first time to read my blog, read my previous entry.)  Mama has promised to give me her old baul that I can use as a center table/storage. She saw a similar baul in a decorating magazine I lent her and told me it would be perfect for my living room. She may also be lending us a very old electric fan than Raymund and I have been eyeing for a long time.  She promised to give me some of the old chairs that needed to be restored but I guess I don’t need them now.  And to think I’ve been in-love with those chairs since the first time I saw them…aaah!!! Why can’t I have a bigger house?!

One thing that really annoys my husband is how I jump from one project to another.  It could be scrap booking today, beading tomorrow or jewelry making or paper crafts or doll’s clothes. He is always nagging me about craftbooks and magazines piled on my side of the bed. But I think he is loving my current obsession.

I’ve been buying home ands lifestyle magazines left and right.  Especially anything that offers solutions for small spaces and budget design.  Mostly it’s just bullshit.  I mean, these people do not know what small spaces are.  Ok, basically, their idea of small is anything that is not a mansion or a palace.  And a P50K couch, a P1k kitchen canister is budget. Great.

But they are not completely useless.  I do get some tips for my current projects and some ideas for when I finally get to live in a big house. (My nanay always told me to dream big.)  Besides, I need to tell myself this so I can justify why I continue buying home magazines.

One big frustration is I can’t do anything major because we’re just renting the place. (The landlord did say I can repaint the walls, but only if I use the exact same color. Great.) And I can’t go too crazy because the house is too tiny to take in all of my craziness. But hey, don’t get me wrong.  I really do love our house.  It’s the most beautiful we’ve ever lived in and the rent is very cheap but it’s tiny.  It is ideal for a couple with no kids but I had to sacrifice my fish collection and my beloved huge couch (some friends used to drop by our old house just so they can sit and sleep on that couch). I did try to make the couch fit but we had to go around it every time we needed to go to the bedroom upstairs, the kitchen or the toilet.  Plus having that couch meant there was nowhere to place the dining table.  So the couch had to go. (It’s sitting in the office now so I can still use it. Needs serious reupholster though)

Another frustration is a home makeover generally means I have to clean the house.  Hey, I do want to live in a clean house.  Our living area is already nice and clean (my mother-in-law keeps telling everybody that I have a beautiful living room.  She may be exaggerating a little.) And our bedroom is almost there (I’m working on it) but our one other room is just plain scary.  I tried to clean it…but I went in got so overwhelmed and ran away.  The spare room is where we keep our papers (boxes and boxes of papers), photos (which I really should put in albums already), old magazines (that we should really throw away but won’t), piles and piles and piles of books (which we can’t give away or sell because I have to reread all at least twenty times—yes, even the crappy ones— before I get tired of them)  and other  stuff we collected through the years.  I told my husband, we should just throw away everything (except the magazines and books, some craft materials and maybe some photos) and not bother to sort through them.  I really do have to start cleaning it as the shelves I had made would be arriving sometime next week.  My mother-in-law said I have to convert it into a guest bedroom so that they can sleep-over when they visit—like they don’t own a house two blocks away.  What I really want to do is make a work area (where I can do my crafts in peace) and shelves for storage and alright, maybe put a sofa bed my friends can use when they sleep over.  Great plan, yeah? How to make it happen…I don’t know yet. 

Most weekends (and some weekdays) have been spent scouring for budget but nice home accessories in Dapitan, Divisoria, malls (Homeworks in Ever Commonwealth is a one of my favorite "discoveries")and the side streets of Manila (where Raymund bought this really fab capiz shelf for only P3, 000.  I suspect my fish collection has found a new home but Raymund doesn’t know this yet. Haha.)  I have several great steals like abaca and pandan boxes, a molave folding chair that I really, really love (and which I got for 50% less than the original price), and some ceramic and native home accessories for my living/dining/kitchen area.  I also forced Raymund to shell out some money for a kitchen shelf.

Last weekend, I dragged my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law Karen to Divisoria to get materials for curtains.  We scoured Elpo, Ilaya and Tabora to find the best striped curtain material. I lfound a really nice shantung but this obnoxious storeowner told me he wasn’t selling curtains.  I mean, what is it to him what I use the material for?  It’s not like I won’t pay for it! Well. he made me mad so went to search some more.  And after hours of extensive search, I finally found the perfect stripes.  And cheap, too.  I got it for just P20 a yard.  My sister-in-law Julie is sewing my curtains. (Hey, aren’t my in-laws great?) Yesterday, mama taught me how to measure and cut.  She also taught me a few basic stitches.  After a few hours, she told me if I had studied in Auitan (in Isabela) the H.E. teacher would have pinched me black and blue already.

Last Sunday, I took a break and went out with a close friend who texted me that she was in-love. (Of course, I would drop everything for that!)  We ended up going through most home accessories and design shops in the mall (she’s been dying to makeover her bedroom) and even got lost in the department store’s home accessories area.  We laughed at how “matured” we’re getting as we used to go to just the clothes, shoes, bags and beauty sections before.  But we haven’t completely changed. Instead of home accessories, we bought two pandan clutches. (They are beautiful, I’m already thinking of buying lots for Christmas presents!)

This morning I already installed the curtain for my living room.  And I’ve already found the perfect wood for the new center table and shelves.  Now if only I can start cleaning out that spare room…

I just knew things were going to be difficult with my mother-in-law while I was walking down the aisle on my wedding day.  With every step, her sobs grew louder and louder and her grip on Raymund’s arms became tighter and tighter.  As we were nearing the altar, I whispered to my father, “’Tay, ibibigay kaya sa atin ‘yan?”—to which he jokingly replied, “Ano? Umatras na tayo para di tayo mapahiya?” 

In the first few months of my marriage, I dreaded the days when she would come to visit as I was sure she would find something to criticize about me.  Of course I was kind of expecting that even before I got married. What, with my husband being the eldest child, the first to get married AND the only son.  Really, he’s got “Mama’s Boy” written all over him.  I thought mama and I would always be at odds.    But surprise, surprise!

Today, Mama and I get along famously.  She has become an ally, a shopping buddy and much, much more than just my husband’s mother.  She almost always takes my side now whenever Raymund and I disagree on something—which is not really good but it’s not too bad either.  I have long learned that when Mama’s on your side you rarely lose.

So how did I finally win over my mother-in-law?  Well, I have this theory as to when and why Mama started to accept and love me as her own.  But I’m not telling.  It may be too…  Anyways, anybody reading this who’s got a problem with their mothers-in-law can email me and I just might tell you the secret. Hahaha! It did help that we found that we share a passion: shopping!  Specifically, bargain shopping.

Mama loves ukay-ukay. It’s probably her favorite pastime—next to washing clothes.  (Or maybe she just goes to ukay-ukays to get more clothes to wash.  Hmmm… I’m not too sure.)  Now, ukay-ukay used to be way uncool when I was growing-up.  In fact, it was hell then if you ever admitted to wearing ukay clothes.  You know how kids can be cruel sometimes.  Lucky for me, with six older sisters, the only ukay I did was raiding their cabinets, which I did hate sometimes.  I only started going to ukay-ukays when I went to college in Baguio.  Suddenly, ukay was not so baduy anymore.  Plus, Baguio wasn’t yet known as the “wagwagan” capital then, so everything was really a bargain—and a secret.  I got the best blouses, jeans, bags. Everything! except socks and underwear (which you should NEVER ever get from the ukay-ukay no matter how many times you plan to boil it.  That’s just icky. Period.)  And many of my brand conscious friends started to notice my “expensive clothes”.

Later, I got tired of ukay and just started swapping clothes with my friends.  Which was great for me, of course. (Hi, Ate Karen. Now you know! Hahaha!)  From time to time, I would accompany friends to buy stuff from the ukay but it wasn’t so fun anymore; it was even tiring sometimes.  But Mama changed all that.  When I accompanied Mama to an ukay trip once, I was soooo impressed.  Mama’s haggling skills is unequaled. As in, wow!  Of course Raymund and I gets embarrassed sometimes when we feel that the price is already fair yet she would insist on an 80 percent discount.  But she does get away with it most of the time—with the sales people all wearing scowls when we leave.  Now Mama has got me so addicted to ukay-ukay that, whenever we go out, a trip to the ukay is almost always mandatory.  When she comes to visit from the province, I always bring out bags full of my ukay “steals” for her approval and, of course, to compare them with her own steals.  But I still have much to learn.  Mama has yet to pass on to me her haggling skills (the most I can get now is a 20 percent discount—40 if I’m lucky) which may take years to acquire.  And I have yet to bring her to Bambang in Manila, one of mama’s dream ukay destinations.  (We’ve long given up on Anonas.  The stuff there are just too expensive, my bargain-hunting Mama says.) 

Another reason why Mama loves to ukay is that she so loooooves imported products. In Isabela, she’s got her cupboard and cabinets filled with imported canned goods, coffees, teas, soaps and even toilet paper.  Raymund and I always raid her cupboards just before we leave for Manila and save some goodies before they expire.  We leave the soaps (which have become unscented after years of being left in the cabinets) and the toilet paper.  We are not too crazy about imported corned beef and spam either, and we are always careful to get only the objects at the back so that the cupboard still appears to be full. 

Mama and I both love buying pillowcases and sheets. I’m crazy about them, though I don’t really remember to change the sheets every week. I love those shabby chic type pillowcases while Mama loves those bursting with color, so we always go for different things when we’re together.  (Of course, Mama always checks the labels to see if they are really imported.) The other day, she gave me a set of sheets and pillowcases that were a bit too dark and too busy for my liking.  But when I tried to tell her that, she looked at me incredulously and exclaimed, “But these are imported from Guam!”   Raymund, who wasn’t too keen about the print and color of the sheets himself, asked why I still brought the sheets home anyways. “But these are imported from Guam!” I replied.  He laughed and said, “Who can argue with that?”  Indeed.  What’s more, we’ll probably end up using them.  After all, they are imported from Guam.

Sometimes, Mama overdoes things, which can be tiring for some people.  But I’ve learned to live with that and enjoy it even.  Last month, I began taking an interest in crocheting.  Mama immediately produced from the baul her crocheted curtains and sheets she made a long time ago.  She assured me I would soon be making table covers, shawls and curtains with “falling leaves” and other patterns.  She must have been disappointed when I informed her I only wanted to make teeny-tiny crocheted flowers for the accessories business that a friend and I wanted to set up.  But, really, she made crocheting so easy for me.  I never did learn in school. (My Nanay passed 6^th grade Home Economics for me. Hehe)  Still, don’t expect curtains from me this Christmas.  I haven’t even graduated to doilies yet.  I’m still perfecting the cute little flowers.  When the trend passes, I’ll be great at it. I think.  But Mama already covered our windows and tables with her crochets so I’m not really short of inspiration.

A few weeks back, Mama started fixating on my husband’s coloring and asked me why Raymund is so dark.  “Hindi ko alam, Ma.  Maitim na ‘yan nang makilala ko,” I said.   I thought she was joking, of course. Raymund, Karen (my sister-in-law) and I had a few laughs about it.  But she really obsessed about it for more than a week and kept bugging Raymund.  My husband insisted he was just as dark as always and, in exasperation, said he can’t really do anything about it because their family has Ita genes. “We do not!” an indignant mama protested.    And she went back to asking me again why Raymund has become so dark.   Hmmm… I must remember to stock-up again on papaya soaps, although they never really worked on my husband.  But at least I can say I’ve tried my best.

Mama used to remind me all the time about my “wifely duties”. She has long since grown tired of repeating herself.  And after nearly seven years of marriage, I can safely say that I have not fulfilled her expectations of what a perfect daughter-in-law should be. And I probably never will.  But I like to think that Mama has learned to accept and enjoy her crazy daughter-in-law. In turn, she has exceeded all my notions of who and what a mother-in-law should be.  After all, I expected a fire-breathing, daughter -in- law-eating monster.  And I never dreamed I’d live to tell a happy tale. 

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