What goes around, comes around. I am a believer.

Case #1: I visited my office for the first time since the virus. It wasn’t a regular or a scheduled visit. Me and my team still do work from home for safety. I just had to meet a friend in the same industry for some short discussions and product demo which cannot be done thru videocon. When I got to the building, I realized I didn’t bring the keys to the office with me. The lockdown took its toll on some old habits. Thinking quickly, I dialed my wife’s number and asked her to call their office which sits in front of mine to ask permission for us to meet in one of their rooms instead. That same office also uses my room whenever it is available if theirs are all occupied. You know, tit for tat. No sweat, meeting done.

Case #2. Remember I shared about me not using my car horn as much as possible when driving and that I’d rather give in or give way? Many a time when other motorists would give way for me make me think that favors given are paid forward in a continuous circle.

Case #3. I pray for a lot of people everyday. Most of them do not even know that I do but everyday I mention their names or think of them -and you who read this -when I pray to God. Likewise, I believe that I am delivered from danger, that my prayers are answered, and that blessings come my way because there are those who pray for me. I know so.

What goes around, comes around. That just feels good to the bones. Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

My First Time

This morning, my barista son asked how my body feels. I showed him a pinky finger. Confused, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

I answered, “No, it’s the only part of me that doesn’t hurt!”

Yesterday, I played the most grueling, most exhaustive, most painstaking, the best and the equally the worst 18-hole game of my life. And that’s not just the reason why Andre asked how I felt this morning because it was my first-ever fairway game. Ever. At 61 years old. A fossil for a new sport.

My initiation to this sport came about when this brittle eggshell of a body finally gave up on playing basketball and tennis. When Tom Watson and Jack Niclaus finally called it quits, I entered the late, late show. So for starters: the usual driving range, Youtube sports academy and dozens of wannabe coaches namely my son and his cousins.

And yesterday was my inaugural. They said the course, compared with all that they’ve played in previously was unforgiving. Too many bunkers. Too many lakes. Too many mounds. When asked what I thought of it, I said, “Too much grass!”

The rules that my two brothers and five of our children and nephews made for me were forgiving, to say the least. They gave me one-grip gimmes and unlimited mulligans but even those I ran out of.

It was very tiring. My skin got burned under the steaming heat of the near-summer sun. I got dehydrated. My fingers blistered. At back nine, my back banged! So why freakin’ play? It’s just my form of relaxation. Let me be.

In life, it’s never too late to be late. I raise this cup to my golf buddies!

Cheers!

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Meeting after meeting after meeting. Albeit online, yesterday was one most busy, busy day that it deserves a new word to define it -𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜. I use this word when either hectic and stupefying isn’t enough to describe a work day. Before 9am, I was already prepping for the first which ended literally 2 minutes before the next one started. Just enough time to shift my thinking cap from the concerns of one project to another, with a few seconds to spare for a quick shake after a bathroom break. Arms and legs -I meant shaking arms and legs.

While engaged in each one, other clients were texting relentlessly. I am not complaining, though. All in a day’s work for me. This is where God channel His blessings not only to me and my family but also to those who work with me. Thank you meetings. 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘔𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘴, 𝘚𝘦𝘯̃𝘰𝘳 𝘋𝘪𝘰𝘴.

And since this was a Wednesday, it means a run day for me. After all the meetings and mental workouts, a good outdoor physical flex was what I needed. Out of the house/office. Cutoff from work. Breathe fresh air. Build balance. It’s my way of communing with nature.

But just when the last usual "Nothing from my end, thank you" was uttered, it rained hard. But thankfully, only for short. Enough to clean the air and cool the pavement -it was as if Mother Nature was prepping for a meeting with me. I ran 5.27kms in 32mins & 20secs.

Yesterday was, yep, a 𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘰𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘺!

I raise this cup to a day in the life of a simple man.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

What’s a 𝙛𝙟𝙤𝙧𝙙? I had no idea that such a word existed. The first time I heard of it, my mind was seeing a farm tractor made by Ford Motors. It was my son, Andre, who introduced me to one. He had been in one and wanted us to see and experience one as well.

When he started booking a tour for us: my family, my beautiful wife’s beautiful sister and her very handsome husband, my definition of 𝙛𝙟𝙤𝙧𝙙 became that of 'excitement and of thrill.' Of 'I-couldn’t-wait-for-the-day-to-come' feel. I was so excited, I dashed to the toilet 10x everyday up to the day. My wife alternated with me.

Then the big day came. The booking included a cruise and buffet lunch. And our confirmation papers indicated the same. But when we lined up for food while the purser checked our names on her list, she said that lunch was not included. My definition of 𝙛𝙟𝙤𝙧𝙙 dropped to 'humiliation, disappointment and hunger.' So instead of buffet, we had to buy sandwiches and bottled drinks to feed our tummies.

While most of the tourists were having lunch at the dining level, we shotgun’d our place at the deck. Ha! We all thought. We had the time of our lives shooting the best selfies ever. Right at that time, 𝙛𝙟𝙤𝙧𝙙 became 'wow, beautiful and breathtaking!'

When we got back to our Airbnb, Andre had to call Klook, our online bookers for a refund of our meals. And for a little reprimand also. I told him to raise his voice just a little higher than his sister’s to show disappointment. Somehow, it worked because the end result: they were very much apologetic, so apologetic that they refunded the entire booking! Right at that time, 𝙛𝙟𝙤𝙧𝙙 morphed into 'a most exhilarating, exciting and fantastic cruise for FREE!'

Some things can be unknown and undefined at first. But just wait, they can transform into the best that they can be for you. 𝘊𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘴'𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘦!

To the yet unknown, I raise this americano. Cheers! #MyCafeNotes #milfordsound

Summer is near, can you see the sun’s position in the sky? Our little star has shifted. Or to be more precise, it’s the earth that did. This is what I noticed during my run last Sunday. Over the last few months at 4pm of each day, the sun is just about 3 meters away from the horizon. But two days ago, the sun appeared to have just passed over the zenith -the vertical in English.

Yep, summer is just around the bend. Which means that noontime will soon start at 8:00am and lasts ’til 3:00pm. It also means running will be more difficult.

Last year, we hardly felt the heat cos we stayed indoors most of the time. I remember it was during the hard lockdown last year when our one and only TV spewed smoke. Not wanting to experience an explosive day, we decided not to use it until a repairman became available six or seven months later. So without it, we took on cleaning and organizing and learning new stuff instead -stuff that TV steals from you.

This year, is there something to be excited about summer? For me, yes. The beauty of living one day at a time and making the most of what we’ve got bring less disappointments. Regrets of the past are easily put to right. Or if not easily, with new tools available -namely the experience of last year, we can make them o-right.

We hope that v.2021 is better with a better and wiser and funnier version of ourselves, taking with us the learnings we gained in 2020. Here’s to a new summer. Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

Travel contributed a fair portion of what and who I am today. It stretched my horizon, literally speaking. When I was 29, I went on a backpacking holiday in Europe alone. Backpacking is the word used by travelers who cannot afford hotel accommodations. If you read between the lines, you get my drift. A segment of that adventure took me on a Eurail ride from Paris to Madrid with 5 other passengers in the same cabin with 6 beds. The trip lasted more than 12 hours (overnight). We were a small United Nations in that cabin: a French, an Arab, a Swede, a Spaniard and me. It was one fun ride for me because I speak little of all their languages. I speak 𝘶𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘶 𝘥𝘦 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤̧𝘢𝘪𝘴 because I self-studied it just so I could get by being a tourist in France. I speak a bit more Arabic because I worked in Saudi for five years and I picked up 5 years worth of the language. I speak 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘬 because I worked in a Swedish company and worked with Swedes in Saudi. And Spanish, 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰, because I watched 𝘿𝙤𝙧𝙖 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙧.

We had world events and world peace on our conversation plate for most of the time, missing sleep. Plans were also laid out in case the sun finally explodes and we’re stranded in total darkness. Words to that effect.

We are to be blamed for what the world is facing right now because of the decisions we made during that train ride.

It’s really a small world. We just have to communicate best, which requires listening to understand one another.

Here’s to world peace. Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

I have a particular reverence for the crucifix that whenever I see one whether hung on the wall or in the rosary that I pray daily or especially in a church, it knocks me off my temporary insanity and drives me to say a prayer or to praise and to give thanks. I am an engineer and so I think analytically and try work out a solution that way. But when troubled by hang ups called life, I often find instant answers just by looking at the Man on the tree.

I firmly believe that God gave me eyes to see, and ears to hear, and a nose to smell, and a tongue to taste and skin to feel His presence, His love, His grace. And so use them! Because I know, weak as I am, I need all my senses to make me remember that He died for me and that He is always with me. And to stir me up to love in return.

Happy Sunday to all. Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

During the first century of our marriage, my wife would serve me for breakfast 𝙩𝙪𝙮𝙤̂ (dried fish), 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙖́𝙜 (garlic fried rice) and fried tomatoes on the side. ¡𝘌𝘴 𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘰! Whenever this was served, I’d tell her, "𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭." We are no millionaires yet, breakfast has evolved, still with my favorito, but I’ve been exposed to the luxury of the rich and the famous.

Such as this story:

A millionaire friend of mine took me out for a spin in his yellow Lamborghini, not to simply brag but to really brag about it. To start with, in the basement, the roar of the engine shook the foundation of the building. Then, when I got in, I can’t really say that I was seated because it felt like I was reclining in an over-lazy Lazy Boy. In a moving vehicle, somehow that didn’t feel right. Then when we finally hit the road, we zoomed from zero to 5G in negative 3 seconds. The motion sickness that was sleeping in me got madly awaken and throughout the ride, I was praying for kingdom come. When the world finally stopped spinning, I was resigned to the fact that a Lambo is just ain’t my ride. That I would settle for a Volvo or a Lexus instead. Simple, right?

I am a simple man with a simple song to sing. I choose 𝙠𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙮 (rice cake) over caviar, 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙣 (banana roll with something-something) over 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑢𝑥 𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑟𝑜̂𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑒. In my life, I have been with and I have been without. But black or white, salt or pepper, I prefer simple with and simple without. Less headaches. Less frowns. Less hair fall. Shouldn’t life be that always? Why complicate?

Here’s to a simple life. Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

"Lighting is very beautiful!" This was what my client greeted me with yesterday during the blessing of an appliance store that just opened -one of many that we designed for them. It tickles my fancy hearing words of appreciation like such. I salute my team that puts extra effort in doing design work. Extra because we sometimes do work outside our scope if only to make each project better in every aspect.

Each of the projects we do is always a collab with other designers like architects, IDs, engineers and mothers-in-law. What they design, we light up: they design garbage, we make that garbage appear good when lit up; they design a monument, we make that monument look different when seen with artificial lighting as opposed to when seen under the sun. We create drama, we tell stories, we dance with the music, too. We use shadows without appearing shadowy.

If you think lighting design is just a flick of a switch, you’re in total darkness. I hope this has delighted you.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

The anatomy of my run.

I decided to title my reflection today to describe the route that I take in my 'hood. Today I feature a person that is always present in every run I take. Her name is Osang or simply Aa-ah. She’s called such probably because she’s deaf and that’s what most people she engages in conversation with hears her say. Yes, say -because she always has a story to tell.

A few runs ago, she was "complaining" about neighbors right across their house who were seen moving out. Her hand gestures and her lips tell a story of disapproval of the neighbors’ move. The reason is beyond the comprehension of an old man gasping for breath. In response, I just raise my arms and shrug my shoulders to signify, "You know, Aa-ah, it’s their business to move out. Maybe they have a valid reason to decide to leave. Let’s just be happy for them and move on with our own lives without them." Gestures to that effect.

In yesterday’s run, she played hide-and-seek with my wife who was also out doing her usual walk. Aa-ah hid behind a car parked along the route and jumped out of my wife’s way for the surprise. Ain’t she funny?

Everyone has a story to tell that if we just put in a little consideration, a little patience, a little time like to a waiter or a public servant or a jeepney driver or an office boss who sometimes rouse your ire, then maybe, there’ll be fewer demands for lawyers.

So here’s to you, Aa-ah for spicing up my runs with your stories.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

The 70’s song 𝘼𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝘼𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙉𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 was a favorite of mine to sing and play on my guitar when I was a HS freshman. It’s the melody, I think that got me hooked because I didn’t actually know then the meaning of the lyrics. But there was a part of the song that even when I strum it on the guitar, I wouldn’t sing:

𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥

𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘺-𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘭𝘥

𝘔𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭

-simply because I didn’t want these words to come true for me. Weird, I know but I was just 12 years old who can’t bear think about parents dying, much less sing about it.

But they did. Eventually. And to put it in the words of the song:

𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥

𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘺-𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘭𝘥

𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭.

With no parents to go to, it sometimes saddens me to think that I couldn’t be a child to anyone on this planet anymore. That no matter how old I got, I’d still be a kid to. Always understood. Always appreciated.

With no parents to run to, no more making 𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 to someone who looks at me with love as his or her son. No more "𝘐𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘨, 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘴" or "𝘛𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴."

I wonder if God made kids love their parents naturally for them to have a grasp of a love that is bigger and stronger than anyone on earth can give -perfect in every way. Will not fail. Will not falter. Can run to always.

This season of grace, I will use all my tricks to make 𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 to my God who alone can love me like that. After all, I am forever His child. Even if I don’t have my earthly parents with me anymore, I’m never alone, naturally!

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

It is not easy being vegetarian especially when the rest of the family isn’t. When the strong aroma of 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘰𝘯 or 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘬 or 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘬 fills the house, it’s telling me what I 𝘄𝗼𝗻’𝘁 have for dinner. Instead, dark green leaves, light green leaves and just-right green leaves are waiting for me everyday. My side dish: small dark green leaves, small light green leaves and small just-right green leaves. And oh, rice, too. Fantastic and cruel, yes, but it’s a choice I made after undergoing angioplasty nearly 4 years ago. Sometimes I eat fish, too. Being in a country that’s not-so-vegan friendly is doubly tough for me especially when we go out to eat. I can only go to restos that serve dark green… -y’know the drill.

But starting tomorrow, this will change. Yep. Because tomorrow, I will no longer be vegetarian -alone. The entire family will join me in munching grass for the entire season of Lent which starts tomorrow. So for lunch tomorrow, it’s…-y’know the grill, I mean the drill.

The family is excited because it’s a challenge to do meal plans esp these days. FB Vegan groups come in handy. We’ll find how much our love relationship will last during this period of abstinence knowing that insatiated palates and tummies may cause temper issues, if you know what I mean.

Today, being 𝘍𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺, my family will roast a whole calf in the driveway. It will be stuffed with 3 chickens, pork bellies, crabs and lobsters. Everyone is invited -if you can pass thru the driveway!

Happy 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙨! Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes

To be young again, that would be the day. A new romcom KDrama "18 𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏" that we’ve been watching lately gets me into this frame of thinking. And last weekend gave me the chance to be it -I climbed a tree.

The last time I climbed one was when my children were still toddlers and I was in my youthful 30++. That day didn’t end without bruises in my arms after a misstep, gravity and friction conspired to pull me down slowly against the branches. Can another 20++ years of wisdom subdue desires for vertical challenges? If last weekend was a measure, then No!

The wife wanted fresh guava fruits, there was a fruitful guava tree, and a pole - if that’s not an opportunity presenting itself before me, then I can do side part with my blonde hair. Most of the good fruits were clustered at an elevation twice the sum of my height+arm length+pole. Climbing was necessary so climb I did. No worries there since I’ve harnessed enough upper and lower body strengths with my regular exercises. I wasn’t exactly beyond gravity range when I reached the highest branch I could rest my feet on, but it felt good to be on top of the world. I was 30++ again -just words to that effect. The harvest was plentiful: about 2 dozen crunchies. The wife is happy.

Age won’t hold you back if you won’t allow it.

Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes

Yesterday’s household internet episode came simultaneously with another near-disaster adventure. While having brekky, I’ve been smelling something akin to an MRT passenger’s body odor during a late afternoon rush hour when the trains are transformed into massive cans of rotten sardines. My daughter Nikkei also detected something foul entered her nostrils, "What’s that smell, a dead rat?" It excited me to think that if it really was a dead rat, it must be the ending to the rat story I wanted to write about three reflections ago. But the smell was only intermittent, much like the functioning of my brain.

We went about our usual. Breakfast and house cleaning. More coffee was served. Planning for the next millennium…

While I was re-doing the network cabling, we noticed that the smell was getting more potent even to the taste, if you know what I mean. That’s when Nikkei, taking a brief break from watching old OneD music videos, decided to check the gas stove. And there she discovered the source -one knob was left open allowing LPG to leak out of its burner!

Super Nikkei, just by turning a solitary knob clockwise with all her might, saved the day! And possibly many lives, too! No fire trucks blaring weh-loo, weh-loo, weh-loo came. No 𝘒𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘢𝘯 explosions were heard. No thick black smoke went up the sky. I praise God for His protection.

When your nose tells you something, follow it. It might just bring out the hero in you.

By the way, the open knob was my doing. 𝘔𝘦𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘱𝘢. And the pesky rat story? Dang, it has yet to end. But the plot is thickening…

Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes

Early this morning, I was on Viber having discussions about a possible project when it was abruptly cut because the internet connection went down. The messy cabling connecting the router from our provider, the networking routers, my Network-Attached Storage (NAS -local cloud), the landline, the landline extension and the direct line to the 38th Parallel had gone haywire again. A sudden shift of the Earth’s rotation blocked the main artery that connects us to the rest of the world. Chaos. I had to use my cell data to resume my conference.

I’m reminded of an even WORSE story that my 14-year old godchild, the daughter of a family friend had to endure. An avid fan of BTS -the K-Pop group who made history with their song 𝗗𝘆𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗲 by becoming the first K-pop group to land a 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰 1 single in the US Billboard chart, she locked herself in her room waiting for the group’s performance in MAMA, the biggest S. Korean music awards being streamed live. [To all my peers, are you keeping up?] Not wanting to miss the performance, she was glued to her screen for almost a day. Just when the group was being introduced, her two older siblings decided to do cable management on their internet wiring. Her world went offline and cried so loud it reached Pyongyang. In the next 15 minutes, the older sibs frantically tried to restore the connection while BTS was doing their number. When it was restored, the show credits were being shown in Hangeul. What happened next cannot be written here.

By the way, it took me a good half-an-hour to re-do the cabling. Internet is back. So is sanity in this household. Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes

9-year old Pia is our favorite neighbor. She’s the grandchild of my twin brother Fred who regularly straddles between the two houses and on meal times, would choose the house that offers the better bite for her palate. If both are good, she calls to have the other sent over.

The younger Pia, who is bi-lingual, when she was still learning both Tagalog and English, would never fail to entertain us with her quips. Some of her few-liners:

Me: Pia, are you going somewhere?

Pia: 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Lola Rissa (in the car): come with us!

Pia: 𝘕𝘰, 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Pia: 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘢 (𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩)?

L. Rissa: Of course not!

Pia: 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.... 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵?

We would play hide-and-seek in the car and pretends she can’t find us: "𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦!"

She always shows up in our front door bringing her brand of laughter. And wit. One day, she came over with her iPad, bluetoothed it to the speakers and played her playlist of soothing instrumentals. Baffled, we asked why. "𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 '𝘭𝘰-𝘧𝘪' 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦."

Aww. Don’t kids grow up fast?

I raise this cup to my fave neighbor. Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes

I’ve been putting writing this off for the past days because it still doesn’t have a happy ending. The effing big rat isn’t dead yet!

Last week…

My brother saw the big rat jump off from beneath our car engine sitting in the garage. He said its size will rival our neighbor’s chihuahua. I raised the hood to check for anything that the rodent might have chewed on or changed in the engine alignment. Apparently, not only visually, but also olfactorily, the rodent had set up an apartment without my consent. Big word, I know. Because odor and smell do not give justice to what was in there! Imagine the worst public toilet you’ve been in. Then multiply that by 5. There you go. You found my car.

An hour later…

I sent my son Andre to bring the car to a carwash farthest from our place. Farthest because I wanted to have time to disinfect the garage with every possible chemical I’ve got stored including uranium. Rodents didn’t survive Hiroshima, did they?

With a clean car and a clean garage, will the rodent resent it? Dang, it didn’t! The following day, I saw fresh droppings - yep, rat sh*t gleaming right on top of the engine. It shouts, "Take that!" In this battle of the wits and squeaks, the rodent still has the upper hand. Or whiskers, to be more precise.

I’ve set multiple traps and baits, too. Fail.

My next plan is to employ the neighbor’s chihuahua to guard the house at night time. Or look for Sylvester the cat, if he’s still alive.

There are times when you’ve done all you can but you still don’t get the results you've hoped for. This is one of them. I will sit and I will stand and hope that one of these days, I will put a closure to this ugly story. One that describes the villain as slimy, scrawny, filthy, dirty, dark and best of all, dead!

But until then, life. Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes

Nearly 4 years ago, I had an angioplasty. It’s a procedure where a small mesh tube called a stent is inserted in the narrowed area of the artery 𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘰́𝘯. Prior to that, I’ve been missing heartbeats several times a day -double whenever I see my lovely wife, pressure on the chest that felt like a towel was resting against it. When the symptoms persisted, I consulted a doctor. I was wired for 24 hours where my BP, heartbeats, and the Tokyo Nikkei index were monitored. Treadmill and ECG, too. Findings: NORMAL! Fit as a bull!

But fit my foot cos the symptoms persisted. Plus pain in my nipples and sternum. The last time I felt pain in my nipples was during puberty. I’ve heard of a second childhood. But second puberty? What’s next, hair on my chest?

Instead of believing the results of the tests, I listened to what my body was telling me. Back to my cardio doctor. This time, he suggested a Stress Echo -an exercise that brings you close to a heart attack! Results: Blockage! Where and how severe can only be determined by yet another procedure, angiogram, which later revealed I did have 80% blockage somewhere in the left ventricle 𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘰́𝘯.

In the family, I was most unlikely to be in a heart mess. I don’t eat meat that much, I’ve never smoked, never a regular drinker. I regularly run 3-5kms. "Because your body is made of substandard alloys!" I was told during my cardio-rehab. I was also told that I will likely have another one in 10 years, as most of the patients had. I told myself 𝘺 𝘮𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘰́𝘯 that we’re not going back there!

And so I studied about this disease. In my extensive Google research, I found out that a strict plant-based diet can even reverse the effects of atherosclerosis (search for Dr. Esselstyn). So I went vegan in my first year after the procedure and vegetarian since. I’ve also been running 5kms twice a week and do weight workouts like I’m fighting Pacquiao next week. I will defeat this disease! And that’s coming 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘰́𝘯.

Cheers to victory!

#MyCafeNotes

I’ve been living a lie and there’s not much I can do about it. This has something to do with some specifics of our birth. You might think that my twin brother and I were joined in the head and when separated, it had affected my brain severely that is why I think this way. You are gravely mistaken and should beat yourself in shame. You hurt my feelings. Here, in fact, are the lies:

Lie #1: in my birth certificate, my birthplace is Dinalupihan, Bataan.

Lie #2: we were born 12 hours apart.

If my parents were to be believed, we were born in San Fernando, Pampanga. All my other sibs were born in our house and birthed by my father’s midwife cousin. With the midwife probably untrained to assist in twin deliveries, they decided to go to the nearest hospital in SFP. We were born only 45 minutes apart. Since we were fraternal, my mother had to go thru another labor after I was born. The clerk may have typed in "pm" instead of "am" after working overtime that day. No Starbucks yet to keep her awake.

Every time I fill out a form asking for a birthplace, I have to write the lie written on my birth certificate and on my passport. So the next time you see me pausing with my eyes closed every time I fill out a form, understand that I am praying for forgiveness.

But these are just documents and they don’t rule or control or define my life. They just fill spaces in the forms, nothing more. They don’t even buy me plant-based burgers! My life may have started with a mistake but the rest of it doesn’t have to be. They’re not even my fault -faults committed more than 60years ago. I’ve endured everyday not by thinking about the past, but by looking forward into the future. And living one day at a time.

Cheers to letting bygones be bygones!

#MyCafeNotes

My initiation to church service started when I was invited to join a motley choir when I was about 22 years old. Motley because, well… nothing strange about it except for those who invited me were "𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐" people who drink a lot and light up weed almost every night they meet. For me during those nights at the 𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐 (literally street corner -our HQ of sort), there was no escaping the 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙮 glass that went around but the burning stick skipped me. Every time. The guys were tolerant of this newbie nice chap. I told them it’s not my thing. I was doing coke, then -the real thing.

Apart from singing in the mass, we did bible study, too. Who taught us? We did. And our own experiences.

I was a young adult, a fresh college graduate, new in corporate world. I reckoned that as long as you did service to the church and to God like we did, it was ok to do nasty things like drinking and getting high ’til the moon be no more. Giving a good balance to it, so to speak. But when I got older, I learned that you "can’t put new wine into old wineskins."

We all have grown old and become family men. I don’t know if there were wineskin transformations by the roadside but these guys, to this day, still do various works for the church, especially for the poor. I guess God works in ways I don’t understand and He employs methods I can’t make sense of if I tried.

I remember with fondness my friends and our kind of fellowship. I reckon those nights at the 𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐 were a sort of formation or foundation classes for me. Or maybe not. But God used them for His purpose and I am grateful.

Cheers to you, my ol’ friends.

#MyCafeNotes

I am re-posting an article I wrote for Didache, a Daily Bible Gospel Reflection guide published in 2018. I’m sharing it here because there’s a part II to this story:

𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑀𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐿𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘, 𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑎𝑡𝑖, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐹𝑟. 𝑀𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝐶𝑖𝑒𝑔𝑜 𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠. 𝐻𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦. 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦, 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑜 𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑘. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑜. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘, 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝐺𝑜𝑑.

𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔!

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑒, 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝐻𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜? 𝑂𝑟 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑙𝑒, 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑?

𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑏𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒? 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛? 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝐽𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑠. 𝐼’𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟.

About a year after its publication, I got a message in Messenger asking if I was the one who wrote the article. She’s the star in my story! Her name is Arlene Dayrit. And the song, “Out of Roads” by Veepee Pinpin. Check it out: https://youtu.be/dj7M_-sgrJA. Warning: make sure you’re not driving when you listen.

Small world, I say. Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes

"Commercial pilots blame pandemic downtime for in-flight mistakes." No surprise to this CNN news reported yesterday cos even if I don’t fly a plane, my driving, too, got a bit rusty lately. And yep, my neighbors, too. Twice during this lockdown, my neighbor miscalculated his turn and hit my car. I got involved in an accident shortly before Christmas when an 18-wheeler rammed into my side hitting two doors. They all paid dearly for the damages but not for the inconvenience they brought me. And the precious time and hair I’ve lost. Shouldn’t insurance companies consider these as settlement items, too? Unfair, ain’t it?

Anyway, I felt it. Even if I had been driving for about 40years already, the downtime has somehow affected my reflexes. I felt it in my butt, too. Sitting in traffic for a long time is so unnerving⁵. It’s like I’ve never been into one a thousand times before in Edsa. Heck, even wearing shoes for longer than an hour feels weird already! So yeh, I feel you pilots. Go get that refresher training.

There are things to learn, re-learn and unlearn before going back to what was usual. The status quo has been revised. It’s not just you, it’s also everyone around you. It’s not the same anymore:

The way you touch something esp your face;

The way you eat, and speak to and greet others;

Even the way you do your no.1 and no.2 in the comfort room.

Getting too comfortable may get you in trouble. Take it from me -I had to learn it the hard way.

I raise this cup to everyone’s safety. Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes

When my sibs and I were kids, we were cruel to one another. We called each other nasty nicknames -probably normal to many families. Allow me then to introduce, in order of appearance:

Our eldest, the kuya (Leonido), was called 𝘼𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙜 because his two big front teeth made him look like Apeng Daldal, a Filipino comedian during the ancient times;

Next (Isagani), 𝘽𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙠𝙞 (lizard) because he was so skinny, he could be swept by a strong wind and get stuck on the ceiling;

Me. I was called 𝘽𝙪𝙣𝙞 (ringworm) because, obviously, I had them like tattoos on my skin;

My twin brother was called 𝙆𝙖𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙠 (Big-headed) not because he had a small head, duh; and finally,

Our only sister (Marites), the youngest, 𝙆𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙖 because it was the most dreadfully ugly name to call any girl that time. She bore most of the childhood mischiefs we committed. Whenever an older brother would pick on me, guess who I’d pick on for revenge? The one who offered the least resistance. Yep, Kulasa no less.

One mischief I still remember because every time I see her, she’d remind me of it: she was gifted a walking doll for her birthday -the only one she had as a child. Before the cake candles were blown, the poor doll was beheaded. Kulasa became Sisa for a long while, naming her headless doll, Basilia.

But it’s her birthday today. I will be less cruel.

I love her because I can see our mother in her: simple and humble, with a happy disposition; would sacrifice herself for her children; resilient and tough esp after losing her husband. She’s the princess in the family and remains to be so, having no other choice.

We have grown to support one another because that was how we were raised. The fighting and the bickering -that’s just to spice up our young lives so that one day in the future, one of us will write about it.

Dear sister. I know I am old, but I can still sing this song for you:

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳.

Cheers to your day, Marites! You are loved much by your demented oddballs.

#MyCafeNotes

𝘈 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘟 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵-𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘵 75𝘬𝘱𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 5𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥-𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥. 15 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 38.5 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘊 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘠 𝘢𝘵 10% 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘟 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰. 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯: 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥?

We made it thru college engineering solving endless complex problems such as this one thrown at us everyday -for fun and refreshment! It was a normal occurrence for someone in our study group to drop a paper on the table with a physics or math problem for the rest of us to solve. It’s like placing a worm in a swarm of birds. We thrived on solving intricacies. We were nerds and geeks hungry for mental exercises.

Funny thing is, I’ve worked in power plant design as an electrical engineer and later in lighting design which has been my trade since the advent of CFL and never have I encountered such predicaments at work until I homeschooled my children. But it did help me develop analytical thinking esp in solving difficult laundry stain problems and in maneuvering naughty traffic jams.

Life prepares you for the future even if you can’t make sense or a cent out of it in the present. For now, do what we did -have fun finding x.

Cheers to analysis!

#MyCafeNotes

These days, we dream more, we hope more, we pray more. Yep, perhaps more than at any other time in our lives.

This pandemic has definitely changed our lives. Our lives turned big time, few for the better, many for the worse. Because if it didn’t, then you’re slowly reading this from Uranus.

Some dream about traveling again, many dream of going out to seek employment they’ve lost;

Some dream about eating again in restaurants like before, many dream about eating;

Some dream about going shopping, many dream -just dream.

I’ve read many posts attacking those who do not follow protocols especially that of Stay Home, Save Lives campaign. But what can a pedicab driver or a factory worker with hungry, very hungry small children do? If he stayed home, innocent lives will die right before his eyes. I go back to this: 𝐼𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑢𝑚 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠, all laws collapse.

I follow protocols as much as I can. I also get nasty judgmental when others don’t. I am a bigger sinner.

A homily I heard somehow led me to see better -not necessarily with my eyes.

Am good actually with this pandemic. Business is still good, made better even. But if only for those who suffer, I pray, pray hard that this ends. I so believe that prayer is active -not just passive, because it leads us to do more.

I raise this cup to all of us.

#MyCafeNotes

First of February. Another new beginning. Such is life -it begins, it ends. I’ve had my share of new beginnings, some harrowing, some exciting. Like the first time I have ever set foot in Manila -nearly 45 years ago. I was already 16 and growing a semblance of a mustache on my face when I first saw Manila. My parents didn’t allow me to go earlier because I had motion sickness. If I traveled more than 30mins in a bus or a jeepney, I’d vomit. We didn’t have a car then. Tatang had a carabao but Manila is 100kms away. No intentions to rewrite Exodus.

So bus ride it was -Victory Liner, no less. Just the sight of it made me dizzy already. No kidding. Like I was being hypnotized every time I get near one. Anyway, as expected, breakfast and Ovaltine came out faster than they entered my mouth that day. At the end of the ride, I got off that bus so paper-white pale, very hungry and extremely dizzy. I saw a city spinning wildly. I’ve never seen so much people crossing the street. We were at Avenida Rizal corner Carriedo where three-fourths of the population of Manila then converged. My first ever meal was at Panciteria Moderna across Sta. Cruz Church in Manila. We had pancit (modern pancit) and Sarsaparilla. In my first taxi ride, my fingers were caught when the %*#@ driver closed the trunk lid abruptly. I screamed so loud that the noon mass in the church was disrupted. Mea culpa!

It was a baptism of firsts for me that fateful first day in the city. If I had been told then all these were indications of what kind of life waiting for me in Manila, I’d probably had gone back home that day to plant rice and feed the carabaos. Thankfully, no one did tell. That day I came for my college entrance exams and stayed until I graduated. What became of me after all these years is for another cup of coffee.

I raise my cup to new beginnings. Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes