Hmmm. Don’t know what to write about this morning. My golf swing? Nothing serious to write about that. No more about hair again, please! Is it what this year ending day always brings or is it just me?

Crossroads. Choices. Decisions. To write or not. Americano or latte. New cup or old cup.

Glad I’ve finally chosen -americano over latte and this cup over the usual.

I’ve also chosen to say goodbye to 2020 and be ready for 2021.

I know these are trivial things but even on important issues, I learned not to stay too long on the fence. One day the fence will burn and I may end up falling in the wrong side.

I raise this cup to you all. Happiest New Year.

#MyCafeNotes

Today’s the time that my family traditionally regard as a thanksgiving day, recalling all of God’s blessings of the year that is about to close (finally, ikr!). We put weight on each blessing as a reason to go out of town. Each reason is equivalent to a kilometer away from home. A smart method is using the first few kms to measure out the way to the airport. Wrong calculations will send us stopping mid-air or swimming the rest of the way to Singapore or Tasmania, wherever those mileage take us.

We brought no swimming gear this time out por la pandemia . For this year’s tabulations, we applied a meter per reason formula which brought us here in Greenhills, about 10,200 blessings away from where we originally pull shots.

Don’t let 10,200 fool you. It’s a big number alright but it’s too little a count for 2020 blessings. I know we are in the middle of this pandemic caused by a tiny, miserable, invisible virus, and our prayers and thoughts go out to those who suffered and are still suffering. Yet, we cannot disregard the showers of goodness from above: cold and warm, but blessings for the count.

Too many, I can’t do the math.

But I can raise this glass: here’s to more blessings in 2021!

#MyCafeNotes

"No reflections yesterday?" my wife asked me this morning just when I was pondering what to reflect on.

"I wanted my readers to miss me," I answered.

I am dreaming of this to happen, of course, but I don’t think that any of my readers -all 7 of them noticed the great void in their morning routine. Or evening routine for those across the Atlantic (I wish, right?).

My wife laughed, of course.

She’s still laughing now.

We might have to call an ambulance. She’s still laughing.

But I can dream, can’t I?

I dream that this pandemic is just a dream.

I dream that I get to travel again in 2021.

I dream that I get to finally use that black, shiny ACE comb I’ve been keeping all this time. Still in mint condition.

Hoping for a miracle to happen.

I raise this cup to dreamers. Like me. All the time. Cheers.

#MyCafeNotes

What goes well with the early Sunday morning rain? Spicy ramyeon and my hungry tummy -and thoughts of good ol’ days. When I was a kid, my mother would serve Royco noodle soup or Lelot Balatong that only kapampangans like me would crave for in this rainy weather. I miss those days of innocence and of going commando while playing patintero with the ‘hood kids. Me and the boys were dribbling balls even when basketball wasn’t the game. Those days when the only business at hand was having fun and having your name hollered out for lunch or dinner. When five centavos -that’s 5 small coins in your palm, would get you through recess.

It’s different now, of course -yes children, I know, right? It just feels good to look back on those stuff we carved out of time.

I raise this cup to them days. Cheers.

#MyCafeNotes

The barista left early to play Christmas golf with the cousins and uncles. I decided not to go simply because I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. This means am on my own in pulling my shot today. No problem. I’ve learned to do tasks by myself as early as when I was only 50 years old.

Once a friend told me he likes buying tools and gadgets because, "Imagine all the projects I cannot finish with these!" he excitedly told me showing off his new acquisitions. He taught me a good lesson:

Before you start something, make sure you can finish it -by yourself. Whether it’s baking a cake, rotating the tires of your car, writing an article or burning a bridge. It’s good when someone has your back but don’t fizzle out when there’s none.

I raise this cup to independent folks. Like me. Sometimes. Cheers.

#MyCafeNotes

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him,and without him nothing came to be.

What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race;

the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

…And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth."

Today, no other words matter as much. Merry Christmas!

#MyCafeNotes

We behave like little boys.

We eat. We sing. We eat. We laugh. We pray. We eat again.

We misbehave like men.

We compare notes: waist sizes, hair loss, maintenance meds, wives (I mean, one each), children (sub categories falling under here too many to narrate), exercise routines (if none, we accept fiction), number of trips to the bathroom per night, wake-up time in the morning… Want more? I stop here. I still want another reunion next year.

We behave like children of God.

In our annual boys’ reunion held yesterday this year, these are what we normally do. But sharing is what we most look forward to: how God has blessed us the past year, good times and tough; how He has revealed Himself thru His written words, thru prayers and meditations, thru one another. This is the part where my spirit is uplifted, my resolve strenghtened, my being inspired. Repeat paragraphs 1 & 2 above. All diets were… wait, what diet?

Only a few of us were able to attend this year due to either an emergency, severe arthritis or the wife’s decision.

Still, we raise our cups to one another and to the God of our lives, our Lord Jesus Christ.

The lighting design firm that I’ve been running for ten years now got off on the wrong foot. To be more precise, the wrong shoe. I was called to a design brief with the architects and designers for my first mall project with one of the biggest developers in the country. I took off early not wanting to be late -no second chance to a first impression, they say. Cut to the chase, I had to switch cars because the first one I took off with was banned that day (number coding system). I always drive with a driving shoe (singular). With the switch, I forgot the shoes -keeping the driving shoe on one and the meeting shoe on the other.

Those in the elevator with me noticed them before I did. They just stared, I kept my composure. They probably understood my situation. I mean, put yourself in my shoes, right?

During the meeting, I took the right steps in making that first impression. The shoes didn’t play a role. The deal was signed.

Symmetry, uniformity, color combination -they may do well in helping start a business, but not always. Right attitude and good planning -these do always.

That was the start of my business and that client became my biggest.

I raise this cup and sing, "We’ve got it all for you."

I’ve always been accused of zoning out during family conversations. There was this ONE time when during a road trip to Bataan, my family claimed they asked we drive by Starbucks for breakfast. Just when we drove past the gas station where the cafe was, they were wondering why I didn’t pull up.

Me: "You should’ve told me ahead of time!" I argued.

Response: "Yes, we did! Many times over!"

But...

Last night, driving home from a visit to relatives, I recalled a dating story that my daughter told us also in the car more than a year ago that not even the mommy could remember. My daughter was muted by my detailed recollection and cried in disbelief. Not guilty here, your honor.

Fathers don’t normally participate in trivial chit-chats. We just have more important things to think of and process in our less complex brains. Like breakfast and this cup of coffee.

Truth is, I don’t remember not remembering at all. The Starbucks story? It’s a family conspiracy.

It ain’t Father’s Day yet but I raise this cup to us, misaccused and all.

Third time ain’t a charm! Being the handyman in the house, I get to take charge of repairs and, hold your breath - buying tools (like a happy 6-year old child ...la-di-dah.) The toilet lavatory has been leaking once in every other while. If you do reverse mathematics, that’s too frequent for comfort in a comfort room.

Geared with a pipe wrench and sealant, I tried with all my dancing might. Fail.

Next, add in a 3-in-1 cordless Bosch drill and a wire stripper in Lazada mint condition. Same result. What rhymes with pail?

Finally, include an arsenal of electronic measuring devices. Big time fail.

Exhausted pretending after the third, I humbly accepted the fact that I am handsome but not a plumber. So enter our village all-around guy. After just a few precision wrench moves, the job was done. He took P500 and half my self-worth. I raise this cup to him and those like him.

Today, better leave it to the pros and make the first work like a charm.

Whoever said ‘The best things in life are free’ must be a free-loader. Like me. But he’s probably dead already. Unlike me, I’m so much alive! Why? Ask me.

Yesterday, I got a surprise birthday gift from my godchildren who live abroad. And today, I won a bottle of essential oil and a kilo of longganisa in our biz group’s online Christmas party. Even if I am a vegetarian, winning such a prize and receiving a gift make me a very happy person. I hope they don’t get to read this because I am jumping up and down in jubilation like 6-year old entering a toy store accompanied only by Lolo and Lola.

It does feel good to know someone is thinking of you especially during this pandemic. May God bring to mind the people He wants you to reach out to this Christmas and for all time.

I raise this cup to you who thought of me.

My son, my Teacher

Hey Andre,

Prior to you being born into this world, I applied for a job I wasn’t ready for. It was sometime March of that year and the position was fatherhood. With zero experience, the only credentials that I offered were: the live-in 'seminars' with my own father - the audio of which came through one ear and out the other; and, special skills - Integral Calculus and dancing (I lied hoping it would help).

The processing took 9 whole months. It was equally exciting and daunting at the same measure not knowing what to do next after your arrival. 

Who will tell me if? 

What goes with which? 

Do I smell it to be sure? Where?

When the call came, telling me my fatherhood has been approved, I saw you literally come out of your mother’s tummy. Then, just then, "Bloody heck! You’re so bloody!" I couldn’t help telling myself while holding the camera.

But it all became clear to me. That day, I knew: nobody else will teach me how to be a father but you.

You taught me that a baby smile is a priceless relief from a hard day’s work.

You taught me that a smirk could either mean a poop or a fart and that I need to summon all my senses for the answer. 

You taught me a cry is call for a cuddle or comfort or food.

I learned to make better of good things like coffee and Excel.

And what mattered most, you taught me to be the best that I can be.

And you know what? I’d like to think that I was an excellent student. Because I became a father the second time around, nearly two years after. I merited a B+ to say the least.

I am still learning, though. But at 61, I don’t think a third-time fatherhood is a prospect. Being a dad -it just doesn’t end, does it? You still have to teach me how to pull that perfect shot without accidentally burning my arm. And how does that down-swing, follow thru work again?

Teach me, master Andre. I’d like to learn more from you. 

Happy 25th birthday, buddy! You know I love you.

Previous post: "Celebramus Leonila"

Am now listening to James Taylor’s Mud Slide Slim album while having this coffee. This works for me. Short story: I was on my way to an important meeting where I was to present a design proposal and I could feel the back of my neck hardening. On the radio, one of my all-time fave songs played -You’ve Got A Friend. Almost instantly, just like in the song, my friend, peace, came running to see me again. I even sung along, too. Too bad other motorists with me in that traffic couldn’t hear me.

And oh, that project? It was signed, sealed and delivered!

What’s your chill-out song? Go ahead. Rock n roll!

I got a birthday greeting from a high school classmate that none of my five-and-a-half senses have detected from since graduation. Hands down, he was one of ’em good & smart guys in the batch. I, too, was one, according to my mother. One what? Ask my mother!

"One of the good-looking." Mother, stop!

So now we 'interface’ -a most fitting description for PMs, SMSs & ROFLs in this age of acronyms. And in less than 10 sentences, he was able to narrate his life after that night of disposable camera flash bulbs up to this modern pandemic. Me, I just sent him the url of my website that tells all. LOL!

But ain’t it a treat to hear from an equally old classmate after all these time? My wife agrees, too. Like a fill-in-the-blanks pop quiz in history, you get to answer one and you look up the old dilapidated ceiling of your classroom and mutter silently, "yes!"

I raise this cup to you, ol’ classmate.

I took my sweet time sipping this new version of coffee cup making sure I get to notice and enjoy its latte art with every sip. Just one of the things I’ve learned reading "Ikigai: The Japanese secret to a long and happy life."

In one of the chapters, it says, "Walk slowly and you’ll go far. When you leave urgency behind, life and time take on new meaning."

It makes me see the value of the many I do -including drinking coffee and taking down clothes from the clotheslines.

Today, take it easy. Smell the flowers.

Simple things matter to me. I say this because I ordered online some simple things that will make my pandemic life far less boring and a little more interesting: a nail clipper that catches clippings, a usb-chargeable auto candle lighter, a car phone holder that doubles as a wireless charger, and an automatic wire stripper for the handyman in me.

I say this because if these things do not turn out to be such, I’ll be in bigger trouble than without them. So please, let me be.

Today make sense of things simple for a less complicated life.

Cheers. I raise this cup with intricate latte art.

22,281 days ago today, we were born. Yep, when God created me, He thought I’d turned out to be so good, He made two instead. So Fred, my twin bro, came after.

When I was growing up playing marbles barefoot in dirt, I never thought I’d live to be this long. My tiny mind didn’t think that at this age in far away future, I would still be able to develop a website from scratch or do a 7km run or still do laundry and wash dishes. (Didn’t you notice modestly creep slowly out the door?) My narrow understanding of how the future will turn out for me didn’t see this life after The Rolling Stones.

But if there is one thing I now know after breathing air this much, this long, it’s this: I can still better myself, reach new heights, fill voids. Make the difference, beat the minuend and find x. Maybe rub some people up badly along the way. But that’s life. I’ll take it, anyway.

I raise this cup. And raise another.

Double cheers for me today.

May your day be doubly blessed.

We’ve a couple of 'visitations’ this morning.

Today is the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. In today’s gospel, Mary visited Elizabeth. In her honor, we exposed the tilma given to us from Guadalupe -our first 'visitor'. During an online mass, our second visitor came -my brother’s 9-year old granddaughter. She’s here to help my daughter build her miniature house.

These visits delight our household esp during this time when such are as scarce as hair on my forehead. This day is starting right.

May your day be merry and bright.

I raise my cup to Hail Mary!

Taking the garbage out in the morning is a pain in the buns, y'agree? But it's one thing I need to do and it takes just a few seconds more than a minute to finish anyway -like many ordinary tasks we delay doing. The more we think about it, the longer the delay. Me, I just do it. Be done with it. There are more things in life that need more attention.

Then I drink this beauty.

May your day be most productive.

"Beat yesterday." This was just my battle cry when I started my run yesterday, setting my legs to do farther than my previous run of 6.4km. But when I got to 6.5k, my battle cry shifted to "If you don't take a chance, you won't stand a chance." That chance I took that earned me a personal record run of 7kms.

There were unintended consequences like muscle pains but those were within the element of calculated risks.

I'm happy I did. I raise my cup.

Today, go take that chance. It just might be the one you need.

This morning, Andre asked help in calibrating his machine by tasting the initial grinds, finding balance in acidity and boldness (ya besh, that much I know

) -'til this perfect cup.

Asking for help and getting help is never a sign of weakness. It’s giving others the opportunity to help and even feel good about themselves. Yep, you’re like giving them a favor, too. And giving -that’s an act of kindness.

Today, offer kindness. Accept kindness.

Q: What do you get when the savor of champ-o-rado cooking floating in the air fuses with the aroma of coffee beans grinding?

A: An order from the master chef: "Dear, pls set the table."

Also, a comfort breakfast.

May you get what you deserve today.

Last Saturday, I was exchanging ideas with businessmen. Today and every Monday morning, I "meet" with good ol’ friends who, with their words, raise my awareness of who I am in God’s eyes. Joe Dean (He Cares Mission), Alfred L. Paterno (Lualhati ng Panginoon) and Edwin F. Hermoso (Ligaya ng Panginoon) and I trade hearts and minds, sharing about the day’s gospel. And oh, this, that and theirs, too. Transforming chismis into prayers.

You should try it.

Today, try making conversations into blessings.

Yesterday afternoon, before taking a nap, I told myself I was going to run after. After the nap, the laziness level reached my neighbor’s attic. It felt like bolts held every joint in my body tightly wound. So mind-over-body prepping I did. I went out of the house in my slippers, tank top and silky shorts and walked the usual route around the village. I saw the usual neighbors in their usual selves and a clowder of uninterested stray cats. Then, like grease to a squeaky wheel, the bolts started to loosen up.

I walked back in, and went back to sleep.

Kidding!

I put on my running gear and run a marathon. Well almost -6.5kms. Longest I’ve ran this pandemic. Take that, bolts and joints!

I raise this cup to my victory!

May you triumph in your struggles today.

Enjoying doing two things at a time? Yep, that’s me with my usual cup while exchanging ideas with other business folks in a video chat. And what do we talk about? Oh, this, that and theirs, too. Transforming chismis into productivity.

You should try it.

Today, try making conversations profitably worthwhile.

Celebramus Leonila

Leonila. Her name suggests "for others." She lived not for herself, but for those around her. Us.

She is my mother.

She's the one I raise this cup to -the one who gave me life here on earth. She would have turned 94 today. In eternity order, she’s NOW age old. My faith tells me she's still "mothering" us with her loving prayers and intercessions before God, face-to-face. She was a gentle soul whose words were always kind and pure. Never loud. Never excessive. She lived the simplest of life. She wore no jewelry around her neck or long bling-blings dangling her ears. Her gadgets were electronic gas stove clicker and transistor radio. Her idea of spa was cooking asado and raking leaves in our yard. She sacrificed much, loved much. 

I was probably 6. Maybe 7. I was sick, running a fever or something that I don’t remember much details about. But there were things that I still remember: my dear Inang and I on a sleeping mat in the living room of our old house that turns into a bedroom at night. Bedroom isn’t quite the word for it because we had no beds, only banig -a handwoven mat made of buri to sleep on inside a mosquito net. She asked me how I was feeling. I told her that I was feeling like heaps of dirt being poured down on me. Like I was being buried. I don't remember how she reacted but I probably gave her a shock. I shocked her more as I grew mustache.

It shocked her when told that my board exams test papers were stolen to favor another.

It shocked her one day, when in 1983, I told her I was going abroad for work.

It shocked her to learn that the poultry business I put up was buried in volcanic ash.

I must have made life difficult for you, Inang. We wanted college but you and Tatang couldn’t afford it. So you had to move heaven, earth and everything in between to make ends collide. You didn't mind the pain but pain you endured much. I didn't know it then -perhaps this was the way you wanted it. Ohh.😢

Now I imagine you chatting no longer with just a few friends and neighbors but with legions of saints and blowing not just candles but stars and galaxies. A billion-piece orchestra playing in joyful celebration of you. 

Dear Inang, before angels and heavenly beings, raise your glorious cup to God with your perfect smile and tell Him, "This one’s for my son and for all those he loves. I love him dearly." I know if you did, God’s favor is on me. And my heart will keep beating hope.

Have the happiest heavenly blast, 'Nang. You are always here -point to my temple, and here -point to my sternum. 

I remember. I smile. I love. 

You, because. 

Cheers!

Previous post: "Why Should I write About This Man?"

Next post: "My Son, My Teacher""

Celebramus Leonila — A Tribute To My Mother

Leonila. Her name suggests “for others.” She lived not for herself, but for those around her. Us.

She’s the one I raise my cup to -the one who gave me life here on earth. She would have turned 94 today. In eternity order, she’s NOW age old. My faith tells me she’s still “mothering” us with her loving prayers and intercessions before God, face-to-face.

She was a gentle soul whose words were ever kind and pure. Never loud. Never excessive. She lived the simplest of life. She wore no jewelry around her neck or long bling-blings dangling her ears. Her gadgets were electronic gas stove clicker and transistor radio. Her idea of spa was cooking asado and raking leaves in our yard. She sacrificed much, loved much.

I was probably 6. Maybe 7. I was sick, running a fever or something that I remember little details about. There were details I still recall: my dear Inang and I on a sleeping mat in the living room of our old house that turns into a bedroom at night. Bedroom isn’t quite the word for it because we had no beds, only banig -a handwoven mat made of buri to sleep on inside a mosquito net. She asked me how I was holding up. I told her I was feeling like heaps of dirt being poured down on me. Like I was being buried. I don’t remember how she reacted but it probably gave her a shock.

I shocked her more as I started growing mustache.

It shocked her when I told that my board exams test papers were stolen to favor another.

It shocked her one day, when in 1983, I told her I was going abroad for work.

It shocked her to learn that the poultry business I put up was buried in volcanic ash.

I must have made life difficult for you,Inang. We wanted college but you and Tatang couldn’t afford it. So you had to move heaven, earth and everything in between to make ends collide. You didn’t mind the pain but pain you endured much. I didn’t know it then -perhaps this was the way you wanted it. Ohh.

Now I imagine you chatting no longer with just a few friends and neighbors but with legions of saints and blowing not just candles but stars and galaxies. A billion-piece orchestra playing in joyful celebration of you.

Dear Inang, before angels andheavenly beings, raise your glorious cup to God with your perfect smile and tell Him, “This one’s for my son and for all those he loves. I love him dearly.” I know if you did, God’s favor is on me. And my heart will keep beating hope.

Have the happiest heavenly blast, ‘Nang. You are always here -point to my temple, and here -point to my sternum.

I remember. I smile. I love.

You, because.

Cheers!

This morning, while my barista pulls this beauty, I rustled up an ensemble of leftovers for the right reason - my barista’s breakfast. Yesterday’s corned beef and rice became today’s corned beef fried rice. He loved it and I love my coffee. Tit-for-tat. Ha! I paid for my coffee right.

Do someone a favor today. Cheers!

Woke up to not-so-good news -some people we know getting sick, another friend had a blowout in heavy snow far north, and hairs sticking out of my nose -que horror! I raise this cup in prayer for all you friends, relos and my cilia. This, too, will pass.

A not-so-good start doesn’t make the rest of the day bad, does it? Not if we can help it. Not if we won’t allow it.

Yeah, have a good one.

All hasty this morning: prepping for some repair to be done with a hired handyman already reporting in, going cray-cray searching for a sealant spray I hid somewhere but nowhere to be found, sipping this coffee, combing my hair, buying hardware stuff. I could have done some of the prepping days before but didn’t. Then, I could have enjoyed the coffee more. Less sweat off my bangs. Lessons learned.

Hope your day is better organized. I think I’ll have another cup.

Before I get to have my cup to enjoy, this machine must be calibrated according to the kind and condition of the beans used - a process to follow.

So next time you feel like complaining about the price of your coffee, smile at your barista instead and show him how to spell your name.

Trust the process. Appreciate.

Elements of Joy

Light drizzle brings in the cold winds from the outside. Nostalgic 70s music plays over my airwaves. The rest of my senses are picking up the aroma of freshly-ground beans that fills the same space. My body relaxes, the tension melts from my back and shoulders, and forehead wrinkles behaving.

Shouldn’t there be a law that requires people to experience at least one day a week of this bliss? Then maybe we’ll have world peace. And fighting be no more.

Let’s call our congressmen. Better yet, let’s pray. 

Cheers!

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I woke up early this morning to find my son already tinkering with his machine.

"Coffee, dad?" came the invite that I was hoping for.

How can I refuse? Unwisely and foolishly, I guess. But refuse I didn’t cos am no fool. Not for a hot cup like this at six in the morning. And savoring this + a hot pan-de-sal sandwich, I am a happy dad.

May an opportunity present itself to you today. And grab it, too!

Under the surface of this lovely latte art is coffee. Some folks may find it bitter, others flowery or nutty. I don’t judge a cup by its latte cover. After appreciating the outer layer, I check the aroma. Then its temp. Then...

oh what the...

Sip already! Now!

Enjoy yours today -with or without rituals.