Not Your Usual Fairway Tale

A round of golf can be distressing. Not just because of missed birdie putts and slices going beyond golf course boundaries. After more than two years of playing the game, I’ve somehow accepted that these are part of the game -my so-so game. 

Then, my caddy -a  married, female caddy, who, according to the other caddies in my flight, is physically abused by her husband. In times like this, it’s easy to turn from a lousy golfer to a lousy marriage counselor. 

“(Tell her to) Leave the husband,” I suggested to one of the other caddies.

“She can’t,” downright rejecting my bright counsel. “Four kids!”

The simple life I knew, for a brief moment, became like a game of golf for me, difficult and complicated. I searched my golf bag for a brochure on “How to Deal With an Abusive Husband” or “How to Keep a Happy Life Despite Having a Miserable Married Life.” Nothing in the bag that will help. 

Nothing more I can do for now. I switched back to being the lousy but handsome golfer which I consider myself to be. Not a miracle worker.

But miracles do happen when a prayer is lifted. This I believe!

That night, I had a special not-so-golf-related entry to our family prayers.

I raise this morning cup to a better golf game for me and to a better life for someone I hardly knew.

Cheers! 

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One Iced Hot Americano, Please

See the picture? I can be a non-conformist when it comes to my taste buds. This morning was one of those few times.

My usual barista was still very much attached to his couch-bed feeling a bit under due to allergies. And morning tamaritis. But I am due for a cup already. Besides, the wife needs to go to the supermarket. Fast.

And so the doable lieutenant -his favorite sister, stepped up to serve me. She asked me to check the machine’s temp if it was hot enough. I touched one part I wasn’t supposed to touch when the machine is turned on. Ouch yes, it was hot enough.

After a couple of moves, left and right, she successfully pulled one for the Dada. I tried one sip. Ouch yes, it was too hot enough. 100°C can burn. Believe me!

Two blisters in one sitting -somehow, that ain’t right. I must do something to undelay the grocery-ing. Two ice cubes did the trick. At 93°C, my lips were safe.

I am surrounded by love in this family of mine. It’s just that there are days when the intensity of it is felt stronger than the others.

Now you see the picture better.

Cheers!

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A New Story of the Heart

It’s been nearly six years since my angioplasty, the process of inserting a micro tube into the artery to let blood flow from the left to the right or vice-versa depending on where your heart is relative to your blocked artery.

So I visited my doctor whom I didn’t want to see for consultations. If only for coffee, anytime. He loves coffee, too. Seeing him was I thought good for the heart. Besides, I thought I’d been missing some beats now and then. Atrial fibrillation, too –a condition blah, blah, blah. Episodes where mi corazon hammered from largo (55-60bpm) to allegretto (95-100bpm) easily became more frequent than K-pop concerts. I did some math and came up with a solution. One plus one equals seeing my cardio.

In his clinic, I thought I noticed him nearly dancing to the thumping he heard as he pressed his stethoscope against my chest. He immediately grabbed his iPad and played “Beat It” by Michael Jackson on Spotify. Kidding! He grabbed his pad and wrote a referral for a Stress Echogram Bruce Protocol –a procedure blah, blah, blah. 

Echo results revealed something. Something here is defined as anything but good. And so my good doctor made another referral. This time, for an angiogram, double setup. If that something is substantial, an angioplasty will be done immediately after the angiogram. Thus, the double setup. It also means, double the worrying, and triple the hospital bills.

From when I got the referral to when I was being wheeled to the catheter lab in the hospital, family, friends, angels, and saints started praying for me. My wife and her legion of friends even joined the Camino de Santiago twice. Online, though.

I also started using a wand device that uses Tera Hertz frequency (Iteracare) in healing the body. 

I prayed specifically for a no-angioplasty, an angiogram through the radial artery (wrist, not the groin where recovery takes a lot longer), and that my HMO card will cover all expenses.

God answered all my prayers. Angiogram (radial) revealed no blockage, I didn’t pay a single centavo, and I was out of the hospital by the early evening of the same day. Never mind hospital food -they were cooked in such a way you’d want early discharge.

A few days after, I was back running. No skipping beats, no A-Fibs. God works miracles!

Cheers!

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Saving The Planet, My Way

Tell me. When was the last time you didn’t do what you were supposed to do, but still made a difference to the planet’s well-being just because?

Yesterday, I saved several liters of water. Because I didn’t take a shower. Or a bath. Or a spritz of steam under my armpits.

I’ve been so used to take one after my afternoon runs which I now do almost everyday. But yesterday, I had to leave early afternoon for a late afternoon meeting with one of my big clients. I came back home around dinner time. Dog tired and mentally-drained, missing a shower was a treat I couldn’t resist. Yeah, when you’re my age, you’d understand.

Hey, I didn’t sweat a half-a-drop yesterday. But even if I did, it would still have been ok because I am an ABCC11 gene carrier. Yep, I don’t smell. Bath or no bath. I’ve never used deodorants toda mi vida.

Which brings me to how much, then, did I contribute to air pollution yesterday? Nada. Zero.

Summary of my contribution to Mother Nature:

  Water saved.

  No air pollution.

  No noise pollution (did not honk horn in traffic).

Conclusion: There are times when being useful means doing nothing at all. That’s efficient living, ain’t it?

I am not declaring war vs. taking a shower. Yesterday just happened the way it did –peacefully. 

God bless Mother Earth.

Cheers!

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My Flower & Her Flowers

Why Don’t Men Get Flowers on Valentine’s Day?

Flowers are good look at

They smell so nice

Soft to the touch.

We men deserve them, too.

So why don’t we-men get them?

Monotonous.

We already get to see, smell, and touch the ladies of our lives everyday.

They are our flowers.

It’s been said,

“On your journey, don't forget to smell the flowers”

In mine, I get to embrace and kiss the loveliest of them all, all the time.

Happy Valentine’s, Doe-a-Dear.

I am Crossing Off an Item on my Bucket List

Yes, I have a list. I’ve even written about it on this blog. 

This bucket list entry I am working on has something to do with what I do as a living being trying to make something out of life. I go back to the last 50 years of my existence. I’ve been this and that, and these:

A farmer. I planted and harvested rice (ate it, too), and shepherd a couple of carabaos during summer when asked by my Tatang. Did I enjoy it? Heck, no! Did the carabaos? Hard no!

I’ve been a salesman. I sold lighting fixtures and soap. I’ve even started my own multi-level marketing company. Sales shot up like a rocket but fell twice as fast. That was too good to last.

A TV actor. My God-given good looks were made to good use. I don’t even remember if I was paid for my role. This was when I still had hair.

I was a teacher. This was when I lost most of my hair.

A chauffeur (to my own family).

A web designer. Ya beach, this old dog can do this trick.

A basketball player, runner, tennis player, badminton player, a golfer. Just because I participated in tournaments in all these sports, I consider myself a player. I have trophies to prove.

I’ve been an engineer because that is what I have studied to be. With my lighting design firm, I continue to be.

A writer writing mostly nonsense. But hey, it’s writing.

An author –no, not yet. But soon, that will change. This tiny downy feather will trim my cap this year. I do not know how or exactly when this will turn out but by God’s grace, it will turn out! I won’t be that guy who ran his mouth big time and then crashed hard. Put that in your coffee mug or something. My book will happen.

I’m not crossing off the entry yet. Just my fingers, for now.

Cheers!

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New Year Ponderings

On one Saturdate with my wife Rissa, I noticed a group of lively middle-aged, fortysevenish spruced-up women from across our table. Rissa thought it must have been a reunion of sorts, maybe high school classmates who have not seen one another in wrinkles. “Probably from St. Theresa’s,” she assumed. Rissa came from the same school -which is nearby from where we were having breakfast. She and her old classmates often hold similar reunions. Same birds. Same feathers. She can smell.

I thought differently. Because that was early morning, I wondered: what time did they wake up to choose a dress, matching bag and shoes, perfume and bling-blings? Do hair and make-up? Rinse and repeat? 

But because it’s the New Year and half-resolved not to mind other people’s business unless it brings me legal and honest money, I dared not rise from my seat and ask them. Afraid, too, that my wife will disown me.

So I let them be. My inquisitive mind is at peace.

--

The same peace was disturbed while driving back home. Near our place is a small intersection that can rival the famous Shibuya Crossing. On a normal weekday, daredevil motorcycles and tricycles, cars, buses and trucks take their chance beating each other while avoiding peddlers pushing carts and careless pedestrians spill their guts and blood on the pavement. Unlike the Japanese crossing, ours doesn’t have traffic lights to control the chaos. There are no time limits. Cross at your cardiac expense.

But since it’s the New Year and half-resolved not to rant and complain at every opportunity, I made the Sign of the Cross and crossed.

So I let them be. My critical mind is at peace.

-

Every New Year brings hope -I preach to myself. And this hope brings me joy.

Then I can smile a little more and love a little more.

I wish the same for you all.

Happy New Year! 2023 Cheers!

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