Tuesday, December 31, 2013


I want to put this out there before the year ends just so it's clear.  This, above anything, is what I want for 2014.  For myself, for my daughter, my husband, my mother, my siblings, and my friends.

And unlike my other WFTYs where I just pretty much closed my eyes and hoped for the universe to conspire to make it happen, I will be an active advocate this year.

Woooohoooo, we can do this!

Friday, August 16, 2013

In the name of the mother

I was talking to my mother on the phone just now when she casually tells me that she’s worried about my soul.  I ask her why and she says because I don’t hear mass anymore.

I laugh it off.

My soul is fine.  

I have never felt better about my soul.  I have made a promise I intend to keep and I am at peace with that.  God and I, we have a thing.

But now that I’m a mom, I completely understand her. 

She was raised to believe that her performance as a mom will depend on my performance as a catholic so she worries when I, or any of her other children, stray from the catholic path.  I remember her telling us when we were children that she’s not breaking her back to take care of us in this life only to be separated from us when we die.  “Let’s all be together in heaven,” she said.

Sure.  I’m all for heaven.

So, what shall I base my performance as a mom on?  

Well, I just want two things for sage - to be happy and to please please be kind, possibly the two hardest things in the world to be sometimes.   Of course I will love her anyway if she turns out to be miserable and cruel, but I don’t think I will be able to hide my heartbreak. 

I actually miss going to mass.  It's very much like yoga to me.  Time to reflect about things.  I don't think God will keep me away from heaven if I miss mass.  I believe being a bad person is the only thing that can do that.  But maybe I'll start going to mass again. I haven't been in a while only because, well, walang time sa world!  
So I shall make a real effort now to go for my mom because my going is more important to her than my not going is to me.  And I love her.  And I don't want her to worry anymore.  

Friday, July 12, 2013

Tatlong kwento. Isang OUCH.

Drach told me this morning that when he was growing up, he thought of himself as a real deal music man.  He could carry a tune, he could play an instrument and his head pretty much holds a fairly extensive music library. 

Then he joined Hit where he met the likes of Mike Villegas who is a guitar god and Arnold Buena who had an impeccable aptitude for arranging music and others who, like him, knew music but knew it better.

He was put in his place daw.


In 2007, I read an article on Rogue written by Chef David Pardo de Ayala.  He talked about how he always thought of himself as a good chef and that he was happy with where his career was going.  Then he had a trip somewhere and had a chance to eat at this famous restaurant owned by this renowned chef (I don’t remember where, where and who). 

Anyway, the moment he took his first bite daw, he started to tear up and he got so emotional as he realized with such clarity because of that one bite that, despite all he had accomplished, he was not and will probably never be a great chef.

I was super hurt for him there.


Okay let me just say it – I think I’m pretty. And 2006 was the height of this particular thinking because I wasn’t quite so behemoth-ish.

I worked out regularly at Golds gym and I really felt good about myself.  I especially liked how I looked after a workout cos I would be all flushed, pink cheeks and glowing and all.  So after working out one evening, I was in the middle of the locker room giving myself one last look in the mirror before heading out.  I was having pa a really great hair day so I was really REALLY falling in love with myself there.

And then a lady stood next to me to check herself out in the mirror.  It was Priscilla Meirelles

Grabe naman ang universe magkapag reality check!  eto sya eh!!!

Priscilla Meirelles

Monday, May 20, 2013

A letter for Solana

May 13, 2013

To my dearest Solana,

When you were still a resident in my belly, I dreamt of the day when I would be able to go around with you outside me and introduce you to everyone as my creation.  I already saw myself pointing to you and announcing “See that! I made that!”  Your father and I would carefully and thoroughly discuss all the things that we wanted to teach you and all the ways that we wanted to raise you so that you would become a person of substance and a woman of grace. 

But as I start to get to know you, I realize more and more that you are not mine to own or mould.  Already you are showing signs of a personality I didn’t think someone who only came into this world 6 months ago could have.  And while I recognize bits and pieces of myself and your papa in you, you are already mostly you, which is now the only thing I will ever want you to be. 

If I ever forget in the future, as I most likely will, remind me please, and again and again if necessary, that you are not mine to own or mould.  If you want to experiment on an outfit or a hairstyle that I think is hideous, if you choose to believe in an ideology that makes no sense to me, if you should ever fall in love with a boy who is way out of your league, or if, God forbid, you start rooting for the Lakers, look me in the eye and tell me gently please “Mama, I know you love me and you want only the best for me but I am not yours to own and mould.”

I, on the other hand, am yours anak.   Absolutely and forever.  How's that for irony?

Your papa and I realized the first time we held you in our arms that nothing in our lives would ever come first again. It is unbelievable how quickly and how willingly we became a cliche.  So yes, I will be THAT kind of mom.  The kind of mom who wont sit still until you are home safe and tucked in your bed at night. The kind who will desperately try to fit in your life even if it means listening to annoyingly loud teenage music.  And of course, the kind who will cry the ugly cry at birthday parties and graduations and probably practically every little thing that makes her realize that you are growing up.

I will be that kind of mom. That is a fact.  Please learn to deal with it as quickly as possible to avoid any unnecessary drama that you might be drawn to in your tweens.  

Yesterday was my first ever mother’s day.  You did not know that of course and you were too into your hands to realize how much that day meant to me.  You were not able to greet me, at least not in a language I understood.  Nor did you buy me any gifts.  But when I woke up that morning, I found you already awake, quietly observing the ceiling.  When you heard me stir, you looked at me and gave me the warmest and sincerest smile I’ve ever seen on anyones face. 

That was enough.  That will always be enough. 

Thank you.


Friday, April 12, 2013

Last night on Survivor

Survivor is the greatest reality TV there is.  Ever!

Nuff said.

I want to end this blog with that nuff said right there but I cannot stop thinking about it.

Last night's episode was epic.

Malcolm went to tribal feeling pretty confident that he was safe.  So confident in fact that, and this is just my theory, he didn't bother to bring his own immunity idol with him.  When he felt during tribal that he was going to get blind-sided, he votes for reynold AND THEN, when reynold, thinking that he was going to get voted out, stood up to play his idol, he (malcolm) convinces (no wait, not even) TELLS reynold to give his idol to him which reynold did!!!

Ugh. Malcolm is so hot.

It was just too bad that the people who were actually planning to vote malcolm off were too sissy to go with the plan and voted off michael instead.  Which is the biggest sayang because that would have been the greatest play on survivor history.

I hope Malcolm wins.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Song for Solana 1

One of the hardest things a parent has to do is keep the little one entertained.

Lord, do they need A LOT of entertaining!

So I've written a couple of songs that I sing to her.  Here is my morning song for Sage.  Inspired by that bodily function that we both do first thing in the morning.  It has a fun, boppety bop tune that makes you move your head from side to side.

Hello Sage
It's a brand new day
It's a fresh new way 
to start

Hello Sage
Just open your eyes
Give mama a smize
then fart

This is what we do
in the morning just me and you
while papa's asleep
we both let it rip
it's musical art
we fart.

Friday, March 22, 2013

Before they had models, Brazil had Brigadeiro

One day at band camp… hehe.  Sorry.  I’ve always wanted to start a sentence with that line since American Pie so I couldn’t resist since this is a camp-ish story.  Except instead of band camp, it happened in our CISV camp in India.  And, unlike band camp, it doesn’t involve any sordid, perverse sexual experiment.  Although it is equally sinful and delicious. 

Brigadeiro is a yummy yummy chocolate yema-ish candy from Brazil.  Mariana, the sexy Brazilian junion councilor, prepared it for all of us when it Brazil day.  At CISV, each country gets to have a “day” when we learn about the culture, the history, and of course the food there. On our day, I fed them chicken adobo and taught them tong tong tong tong pakitong kitong complete with choreography.   

I digress.

Back to chocolate now.

After I tasted Brigadeiro, I knew I had to learn how to make it.  So I cornered Mariana in the kitchen soon after and demanded that she teach me.  The deliciousness of this candy is only trumped by the simplicity of how it is made.

3 simple ingredients.
3 simple steps.
4 simple syllables that will make you wish you had an extra mouth so you can have two spoonfuls at a time.

Say it with me now.


Again, again.  Say it the way Brazilians do.  Or better yet, say it as if a hot Brazilian model were naked in front of you right now.


God.  Sarap.

1 can condensed milk
3 tbsps butter
3 tbsps unsweetened cocoa powder (dutch-processed please)

Mix all ingredients together in a saucepan, put over low heat and bring to a simmer while constinuously stirring. 
When the mixture has thickened, remove from heat.
Transfer to another container to cool.  Then chill in the fridge.

You can form it into balls after or you can eat it like ice cream like I do.

Enjoy =)

Sure I can live without salt. I can also live without love. But I won’t. *

Salt has gotten a lot of bad PR over the years.  It makes you bloat.  It increases your chances of getting hypertension.  It is harmful to your kidneys, your bladder, your heart, etc.  etc. etc.  Doctors warn us now to kick it like a bad habit, like smoking, or alcohol, or drugs. Imagine that?  someday salt will only be available in dark, dingy alleys peddled by smelly men who only have three teeth left.  Our children will rebel under the mantra of SEX, SALT AND ROCK AND ROLL! and we will tell them about the good old days when salt was abundant and life tasted good.

And yet, despite the rap, God bless our stubborn hearts, we continue to use it liberally on anything and everything.   A great testimony to the tenacity and gluttony of the human race. 

To say that salt makes food salty is obvious and, honestly, insulting both to salt and to the person who says it.  Because how could you, you who absent-mindedly toss a handful of it to season your simmering pot of kaldereta, you who profusely sweat over a pot full of nilaga consciously checking if it needs another pinch of it, how could you just use the most obvious word to describe salt.  I mean really, adding another consonant, that’s the best you can do!

As simple as salt is, it does so much more than make food salty.  It is responsible for bringing out the complexities of every flavor palette.  That’s why we use it for baking and for cocktails even.  It elevates the inherent flavor of food to a higher level.  It maximizes the potential of food.  It encourages them to be the best that they can be.  It’s like Oprah… but whiter and less preachy.

Now, because of culinary geniuses who have come before us, our choices have expanded immensely.  What used to be 

"rock or refined salt?” is now “Iodized? kosher? Sea salt?  Flavored sea salt? Or the God of all salts, Fleur de sel?” 

Save for Fleur de sel, I have tried cooking with all.  I like sea salt because it tastes a little more organic than your basic iodized salt.  I don’t know if its psychological but it does bring in the flavor of the ocean a little.  I’m not a big fan of flavored sea salt because sometimes I don’t need to add that hint of oregano and thyme that come with the salt to my dish.  I appreciate, however, that it comes in grinders like peppercorns but I really can live without it.  The little I have had of kosher has made me a fan.  Its not too salty, just right.   Unfortunately, I have not had enough of it to sing it praises just yet. 

Salt, of course, like other seasonings, is a matter of taste.  How much or how little you want it in a dish is absolutely a matter of preference.  The bottomline is though, you need salt.  Yes, just as much as you need love.   

*this was my first entry for SINGLE HUNGRY FEMALES, a blog I started with Deesj three years ago (and dapat gigi and jenni but they never wrote anything).  We gave up the URL and if you search for it now, you will be directed to a porn site which works as well.


I've always wanted to be a writer.  Some time ago, I forget when, I specifically wanted to write a musicale.

I am currently cleaning my office computer cos we're finally getting new ones (wooooohoooooo) and I found this "lyrics" saved in one of my folders.  Feeling ko talaga pwede!

So this is how it ends
With me on the floor
At quarter to 4
With a phone in my hand
And my heart broken into 6 million pieces

And this is how it ends
From half the world away
In a smug, ice cold way
You said this stopped working
Cos we suddenly just stopped making sense

And you said it was just as hard for you
And you said that you were breaking as well
And you said that tonight was a night you’ve been dreading
But you knew it was coming
Since the day that you and I fell
In love

We always knew that it was not gonna be easy
It was complicated right from the start
So forgive me for being all angry and bitter
As I helplessly watch my world fall apart

It must be real nice to be able to walk away unscathed
From the one you called the love of your life
It must be real nice to be able to move on
Without a scar, with barely a scratch
With nothing but memories that will soon fade away anyway

Thursday, March 21, 2013


This blog is 4 months overdue, the word is not.  I knew what my word would be a few months before giving birth. 

For me, sure.  But for my daughter most of all.  And I will ask the universe to send some your way too.  Because who doesn't need a little more kindness in their lives?

Thursday, February 21, 2013

I live in the hood. Motherhood.

When I was younger, I dreamt of moving to a foreign place where everyday is an adventure.  Where I would have to stress every syllable of every word to be understood and where I need to rely on hand gestures and facial expressions to understand.  Where night is day and day is night.  And where every experience is brand new even if you’ve done it a million other times before.

Well, here I finally am.

This is motherhood.  I’ve only just moved here three months ago but let me tell you a few things about living in the hood. 

1.  Here in the hood, there is only one boss.  It isn’t me and it certainly isn’t my hunky, macho man of a husband.  Oh no no no, we are but mere servants who run around like headless chicken at our boss’ slightest whimper. 

“O why anak? Are you hungry?  Here, take mama’s boo… Ah okay, you’re not hungry pala noh. Okay okay sige stop crying na.  Ahhhh naku maybe you’re wet. Let’s see nga.  O, you’re not naman eh.  Eh why are you crying baby?  Sige na tell mama and papa.  You want to make poopoo?  O here, hold mamas hand tightly so mama can help.  No pa rin?  Ahhh  I know na! You must be bored!  Oo nga naman, you’re just sitting there kasi noh.  O sige, lets go out baby.  Lets look at the outside world.  See anak o, look at all the colors. It's so pretty noh. Ah naku you dont like the outside world pala.  Yeah it sucks here noh.  Eh baka naman you’re really hungry na?  Lets try again ha, here, take mama’s boo...  Okay okay okay, you’re not talaga hungry.  I believe you na.  Maybe you want to sleep na noh?  Twinkle twinkle little star….”

And this ‘conversation’ with our boss has been on loop for three months.

2.  Here in the hood, there is only one star.  My husband and I, we who pay the bills and cook the food and go about our lives outside the hood acting as if we’re free people, we are nothing but fawning fans to the superstar. 

I watch her and I wait, with bated breath, for her to see me and smile at me.  And when I am finally bestowed with such an honor, I think of every good deed I’ve ever done in my life and I wonder which of those earned me this. 

3.  Here in the hood, there is nothing but love.   Please refer to Monster’s blog for deets because she wrote it ever so beautifully.

Read it here.  http://pinoymonster.wordpress.com/2012/12/17/who-are-you-and-why-do-i-love-you/

4.  Here in the hood, there is nothing but gratitude. Someday, someone will have to sit me down and explain to me why I was chosen to live here when others, far far better suited than I am, are still waiting to be let in.  I am grateful.  Every minute of every day, I am grateful. 

Salamat Uniberso. 

Salamat sa poong may kapal. 

Salamat sa matres ko na kahit may myoma ay nakapag aruga pa rin ng supling. 

Salamat sa mga doctor na nagtanggal ng pulupot na cord sa leeg ng anak ko at nagtahi ng punit sa bituka ko.

Salamat sa mga kamaganak at kaibigan na laging nangangamusta at paminsan minsan ay bumibisita, miski pa ang nadaratnan lamang nila ay isang nagpapasusong ina o nagngagangawang sanggol.

Salamat sa nanay ko, na sa pagiging ehemplo, ay nagturo sa akin kung pano magmahal ang isang mabuting ina.   At sa mga kapatid ko na syang mga una kong kalaro at kaibigan, para sa pagmamahal nila sa anak ko ng sobrang sobra at pagkuha ng isang damungkal na litrato.

Salamat sa asawa ko, my fellow servant and fellow fan (maybe even a bigger fan than I am), for waking up at the slightest kalabit in the middle of the night to see how he can be of help, for expertly and ever-so-lovingly changing diapers, and for blueberry hill morning dances with the little girl. 

Higit sa lahat, salamat Solana.  Salamat Sage.  Salamat anak.  For being patient with mama when she cant seem to understand you.  I promise you though, that even when you are able to talk in complete sentences using big words and espousing complex ideas, there will always be times when I still wont understand you.   

Such is the way of mothers and daughters.  

There will be times when you will feel that I am THE WORST, that I am against you and that I just don’t care.  I’ve been there.  And I swear to you that all those times I thought that about your abuela, I was always wrong.   

As you will always be wrong.  
Because, no matter how damning you feel your evidence is against me, I will always be on your side, I will always care, and I am always, in every possible way, THE BEST.