I Dream

Dreams are strange brain activities, abstracts I sometimes do not understand.

I still dream about being late for my high school exams.

I still dream that I have long bangs covering the unsightly pimple breakouts on my forehead.

I dream of running but not getting anywhere -trying hard to run faster but my legs won’t move.

I dream of losing brakes while driving and of driving a car so tall I can’t see what’s below. And driving on reverse without brakes.

When I dream of our old house in Bataan which has undergone several changes over many years, the one that I grew up in is always the version I see in them.

I dream of my dear 𝙄𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙜 and 𝙏𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙜 when they were younger, never older.

When I shared about these dreams to others, I found it amusing to know that they, too, dream the same. No, not our old house or my long hair or my parents or my car -their own, silly!

I think most dreams are playbacks of the experiences that shaped us -rounded or linear. It comforts me knowing I am not abnormal after all. Or that there are many of us who are normally off-the-wall.

I console myself with that last thought. And this cup.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes #dreams #iDreamedADream

Anti-Boredom Drill

I didn’t know that the sound of a handsaw cutting through a 1cm thick wood board and a hammer drill digging its bit through masonry can soothe or in my bored pandemic state, revitalize one’s mind. Yep, this is #mentalhealth issue yet again.

The garage wall light needed to be replaced. These idle hands needed flexing. If lockdown boredom is a sickness and I am a doctor, then I’d prescribe a handsaw and a hammer drill before or after a meal. This worked mightily fine for me. Maybe it would do you good, too.

When temporary insanity is attempting to settle upon your household because of excessive non-activity apart from hitting like buttons and scrolling up and down, finding something menial to work on will drive it away.

See the reflection of a happy face on the shiny hood of a car you laboriously waxed. You’ll find a new perspective in life after manually shifting the toilet bowl 90° clockwise.

Most feelings of boredom are invitations to a physical activity that when ignored can lead to misery -and bigger beer bellies. Words of wisdom from a coffee drinker.

Stay active & healthy, folks.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

B-I-N-G-O!

If someone hits your nerves 𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙤, it ain’t a winner. It just means you’ve had more than enough with that person, his antics and mistakes. But there are times when a bingo is a call for you to be a little more patient. And it has something to do with the kind of person at the other side of the story.

At that other side in mine is my wet market #𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞 who I pay extra to buy fish, meats and other food stuff outside of her own veggie stand.

First, she didn’t get the right cut of meats;

Then, she forgot to load in the bag some veggie items included in the list but already paid for;

Then, she forgot to give me my change;

Today, I ordered a slice of squash, she gave two, and instead of a bundle of leafy greens, she gave two. Also, she forgot to put in the price list.

I can’t fire her, sue her or threaten to expose her in social media. Because she’s all I’ve got to do the dirty #𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙠𝙚 job for me. Her good service far outweigh all her petty crimes multiplied by five. That I appreciate.

In a lockdown, one needs patience that’s miles longer than the string beans you put in your #𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙚_𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙚. Unlimited, just like the coffee servings I get.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

#CatchAll

There wasn’t a day in our home when a remote control or the cordless phone didn’t go missing. We have at least five of them scattered in and out, over and under, within and without our small living room. When someone asks, the answer is always, "I didn’t use it," if you get an answer at all. It’s always assumed it’s a rhetorical question. Almost always, the culprit couch gets the blame. Its throw pillows get very naughty sometimes -they swallow small gadgets when no one is looking.

"Enough is enough is enough," said the wife. Wait, isn’t that too much?

Anyway, she found a solution while browsing an online catalog looking for items to buy during this month’s 08.08 sale. She found the #CouchCaddy -the answer to all things missing. Including #MentalHealth.

Now, it’s not only the RCs that this caddy holds -skin lotions, nail clipper, cables, sports watches, medicine, dental floss, scissors, golf club trainer, French fries, chips, screw drivers, coins, chopsticks. We need ten more of this. And one that can hold an espresso machine and a fire extinguisher. You can never tell, right?

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

That, Then. Now, This

They say, "When it rains, it pours."

I initially didn’t want to write about this for two reasons:

One. I didn’t want my readers to think that this writer has only a few years left writing and breathing. That I am falling apart already. Then you cry because you will miss me. Terribly.

Two. When you’ve got something bothering you with a rhythmic throbbing pain, inspirations find it hard to come by. It doesn’t want me to write about anything else.

Gout. Yep, that’s what it is. Age is really catching up on me despite my 5k runs. Literally and figuratively. My fault really. Last weekend, to celebrate our anniversary, the kids ordered seafood bags with crabs, mussels, clams, shrimps and squid cooked in spicy chili sauce. They came in two large food-grade thick plastic bags. I cheated not only by eating to my tummy’s gluttonous content (I am a vegetarian), but also, and I say this with my head down in shame, I ate with my hands.

Then, to cap the night off, half-a-bag of spicy peanuts while watching Netflix.

So there. Blame it on my kids. But I am a happy man. I am limping. But happy.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

Designer iBags

One morning I woke up with puffy bags under my eyes hanging so beautifully that, if I’m not careful, LV & Hermes knockoff designers might copy. The next morning, they were still there. And the next. This morning, I had to call TSA for the lock codes. Am I getting vain and conceited at nearly 62 years antiquated? Why the concern? The business of looking young isn’t actually a personal concern. It’s more of a business matter. In the design industry where I belong, 990 out of 1000 people I come eyebag to eyebag with are millennials who end every sentence with a question? They look at you from head to toe? stopping briefly where the eyebags hang? Yeah, them. Ten out of those 1000 are octogenarian CEOs who either suffer from senility or suffer from senility.

My daughter Nikkei, our in-house skin care guru thinks it’s only surgery that can fix them. I was hoping that she recommends an eyepatch brand that works miracles. But this is too big a miracle for any product to pull off. But I am not losing hope. If #RichardBranson can space travel, I can dream big.

I am not despondent. Just making fun of myself. I feel good. Especially with this cup of coffee.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

Honeymoon Mishits

Before getting into the steamy details, let me bore you first with this:

"𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒

𝑆𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠

'𝑆ℎ𝑒’𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑠ℎ𝑒’𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!' 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡

𝑊𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡."

Excerpts from the poem I wrote for my wife on our first year anniversary. I wrote it because no matter how much I try to remember, brain cells will always forget. I didn’t want to forget. In many weddings where I was made to say something to the bride and groom, I always say, "In the future near or far and in between, and you’re lonely, or happy, or angry, or jealous, or horny, think of this day and how you feel today. It will always make a difference. Notches better." I walk the talk.

But I never give honeymoon tips because mine went… never mind.

During our honeymoon in HK, I was keeping score -not the sort that may cross your sanitized mind, but of the number of times my bride went to the toilet because of a sick stomach. My engineering calculations were used in the most regretful and lamentable application. I couldn’t even face my chicken dinner.

But I am writing about it because no matter what happened and unhappened, I was with my bride. It was the honeymoon period of our life when the skies were always blue, even if they were not. That time when a fart was gloriously romantic and a burp pleasingly charming. Together, they were melodious.

These days, they may sound pitchy and ill-timed. But I walk the talk. I go back in time to those honeymoon days. And I smile again.

With my beloved, lovely, beautiful bride. That last line -it doesn’t change.

- - - - - -

Happy 27th anniversary, my Doe-a-Dear. I love you dearly.

Your Buck.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes