Hacker Attack!

I hate(!!) hackers, especially the ones who wreak havoc just to annoy and disrupt the lives of other people. Hey, if you're sleuthing about because you think your spouse is cheating, by all means, hack! But private accounts of strangers with no information in it to benefit you? Some people really need to get off their flat a**es and live a real life. They will get their karmic comeuppance one day...

Real Love

Sickness and Health
by Catherine Newman, author of Waiting For Birdy

"Is that your husband?" The ER nurse is pointing to you, the fever-spiked lump who is snoring softly and muttering beside me. We've been here for hours, and for hours I've returned my lips over and over to your scalding forehead, as if to cool it, or, perhaps, to comfort myself. In just a little while longer, we'll find out that what you have is a severe case of strep, and you will swallow the prescribed pills, and I will finally put my lips to your quietly sleeping forehead and feel a welcome coolness.

But for now the nurse's face is creased with compassion and weariness — she is waiting — and it's not really the right time to tell her about your gentle strength: the way you rocked our baby in the sling for hours on end while you graded papers, rocked another baby three years later while you did your anatomy homework, babies peacefully asleep across your broad chest for what feels like my entire adult life. It's not the right time to explain what a funny contradiction you are, a hockey-playing massage therapist, or how just last week you lay your hands on a friend's father while he lay dying in hospice.

She wouldn't understand how funny it is that you gave me bedtime coupons — promising to turn in early on the nights I redeem them — because you're a night owl and I miss you in bed, or how it feels when I come down in the morning to a toasty kitchen because you've already lit a fire in our wood stove. She doesn't know that I'm strangely euphoric, sitting here thinking about how lucky I am to have so much to lose — my rock, my mystery, the love of my life — that I'm sitting here thinking in sickness and in health. I will, I think. I do. But all I can say is yes. "Yes. That's my husband."

Happy Valentine's Day, people. M.

Slumdog Millionaire

I was sure I'd be disappointed when I watched this movie, given all the hype and hoopla. So many times it's the movies that are quietly promoted that surprise me, not the touted blockbusters. I also had a yucky feeling it would be a pinoy-style movie, an implausible tale of rags to riches tied up with a ribbon at the end.

What surprised me more than anything was that the storyline was multi-layered and I was mentally engaged for the entire film, despite subtitles, thick accents and stereotypical characters, but most of all despite the peanut gallery composed of Dad (who paused the movie every time someone asked a question out loud), Mom (ano ba!!), Auntie Mo (who actually tried to answer Mom's questions), and Anton and Enzo.

Typically, Max fell asleep during the movie and Uncle Harry just munched on TJ chocolate-covered espresso beans. Other than me, I think Uncle Harry was the only one who got the nuances of the movie because he just listened and let the story unfold in its own way and speed.

And speaking of millionaires, the super lotto is up to 170 million. Time to place some bets. If I win, I promise to be true to my FB list of 25 Random Things—I will probably blow half of my winnings on gifts and travel. I daydream about traveling the world with my boys, then showering everyone with surprise gifts. There a couple of people I would like to give fantabulous gifts to, just because. I'd definitely share the wealth with staff who've been with me and Cyril through it all...

There are so many people in my life to be thankful for. They know they have my appreciation, but there's nothing like paying off a debt of gratitude with a grand splurge.

self-indulgent misery

Welcome the year of the ox.

I see the year ahead and all it demands of me and I'm completely and totally overwhelmed. At this very moment, I have no faith and I wish I had the luxury of having someone to love who could hold me up, right now, tonight, when all I have for company is my snoring kids and a glass of my favorite poison.

Self-pity is indulgent, but considering I have nothing else to indulge in, I will allow myself this one night of absolute misery and loneliness. I think I deserve it. Cheers.

Oops.

I did it again.

Stupid, stupid girl who never learns her lesson.

I'm better than this.

Where is a kick in the ass when I need one?

Time to unleash my arsenal of coping mechanisms.

Let's hope I don't gain five pounds in five days.

Instead, I wish to emerge from this with clarity and strength of will.

I miss my old life, my old problems, and my old way of thinking.

This new sh*t is so much tougher.

Too Much Danielle Steel

Before MIL left for LA in December, she sent me old books from Langka to dispose of/sell/give away... Of course I haven't done that yet, instead, I've begun reading through them all. No Greater Love, Silent Honor, Mixed Blessings, Lightning, Echoes, Wanderlust...

How do you know when you've been reading too many romance novels? You start believing in happy endings (the g-rated kind). Or at least, you begin adjusting your idea of a happy ending closer to "unreal" territory.

There is nothing I dislike more than books/movies/stories that end on a vague note. I'm the type of person who needs to KNOW. Sad or happy, I need to know. In fact, the ending doesn't even have to be happy. I just need some form of conclusion.

Danielle Steel is a very good "concluder". She is the mistress of tidy endings. If only she were real... I could rest assured that the messier and dramatic any situation is, the tidier and happier the ending will be.

The Filipino Network

So... the first official Goat Meeting took over four hours, with Dr. L, accomplished veterinarian, immunologist, teacher, San Miguel consultant, former scholar of Lolo Gil, former head vet for the Puyat farms and fraternity brother of my Dad, taking the lead.

We didn't just talk about goats. We talked about hogs, chickens, rotation planting, San Miguel feeds, cooperatives, livelihood programs, fake vet meds (45%!!), the history of the Puyat family as farmers and growers, agri-inventions, organic food, mango farms and all sorts of things that entertained me so much I forgot I was burning with a fever. What a fantastic resource person Dr. L is.

A second Goat Meeting was unwittingly convened today at Chili's over a pitcher or two of margaritas. I met up with friends for drinks and as we proceeded to catch up, I mentioned my goat ideas. J turned to me and said "M, we have a goat farm in Quezon! Same imported breed plus hybrids, and too many already for our livelihood program. Let's go, bring the kids and spend a weekend!" We spent the next thirty minutes talking goat.

Another coincidence tonight... My Indian friend V and I figured out that we both worked for Batesville Caskets at the same time. Me as GM of the local distributor, and he as a supplier of parts to the Indiana company. In other words, he was manufacturing parts in Manila and sending them to Indiana, then the fully assembled caskets were being sent back for me to sell. He says, why doesn't Loyola have their own brand? I'll produce for you. We talked caskets while the rest kept drinking.

The fourth person in the group was T, and as we were leaving, he heard me mention laser tag at Market Market for Maxi's birthday celebration. "Hey, I know the owners! You need a discount? Sure, I'll ask."

Don't you just love how everyone is connected?