Four Weekends in April

1 -- Manila to celebrate my parent's 41st wedding anniversary

On that very special day last year my father said, "If had a shot your mother on our wedding night, I'd be a free man by now."

Priceless.

2 -- brunch with Monster, Joseph and Jack

3 -- Dragon Boat and work.

4 -- Guangzhou to see the circus and the zoo!

My thing with laundry

I have this theory that people have their favorite errands. Some people like tidying up their homes. Others like going to the bank. I know some people who feel this enormous satisfaction after paying bills.

As for me, I enjoy "doing" laundry.

I say "doing" because I really don't do my own laundry. At the end of the week I sort the clothes I've tossed in the hamper (dry cleaning and regular wash) and then I haul the week's worth of wash (I *heart* alliteration) to my favorite laundry a few blocks from my building. There are other laundry establishments nearer my flat, but they hardly speak English and there is nothing more difficult than explaining "starch" in sign language.

I don't even have to pick up laundry when it's done. Three days later the newly washed clothes hang from closet.

Hmmmm.

Now that I think about it, that's a little creepy. I think my doorman is getting *a little* too close.

Cappuccinos.... try them

Until 8 days ago, I drank my coffee black. For the uninitiated (which was me until 8 days ago), black meant a regular brewed coffee no sugar, no milk.

And then one day, a waiter corrected me, and he said, "We don't do "regular" here. That is for Americans." His tone was so pretentious, I loved it.

So I gave in and ordered a cappuccino. This people, was a big deal for me. It had been years since I last had one (I mean like 10-15 years). I started drinking black coffee in law school and I never looked back. Cappuccinos and lattes were for sissys. And sugar was for the weak.

The coffee arrived. All foamy and sissy like, with the cocoa powder making a Rorschach-like pattern that I clearly read as, "sissy".

I had a sip. I paused. And then I asked myself, "Why, why have I been drinking swill the last 15 years?"

Cappucinos.... try them.

Read this!

If you have 6 minutes, please click on this link for a great description of happiness.

Am so happy I know what Critchley is talking about (pun intended). It's like reading a travel book for a place you've been to, or a recipe for a dish you've made for yourself.

Happy happy joy joy.

I heart Meryll

Waving the white flag at waves

I gave up the fight against curly hair about a year ago. After about 5 years of straightening my hair using all sorts of techniques, products and chemicals (relaxing, rebonding, you name it, I've tried it) I gave up. I gave up because I finally decided to listen to some very important people (my mother and father included) who told me they preferred my hair curly. Personally, I don't have a preference. I straightened my hair because it was easier to manage, not because of how it made me look.

I am so non-vain, it scares me.

Spam Haikus by Michael Lubic

I have never reproduced lyrics or poems on this blog before. I don't do that because I think it's inherently tacky -- not unlike wrapping your furniture in plastic. But my God... read these and say a silent prayer. Because only someone blessed with grace can come up with this. Haikus in red are my favorite.

Blue can of steel
what promise do you hold?
salt flesh so ripe

silent, former pig
one communal awareness
myriad pink bricks

you wait to feed me
stoic vigil on the shelf
ah my vibrant pink

jelly for mortar
seven hundred tins and more
i build a Spam house

my friend pork shoulder
I return to you. this time
i've brought mayonnaise

above all others
porcine treat without equal
there is but one Spam

clad in metal, proud
no mere salt-curing for you
you are not bacon

and who dares mock Spam?
you? you? you are not worthy
of one rich pink fleck

Grotesque pinkish mass
In a blue can on a shelf
Quivering alone

Oh Argentina!
Your little tin of meat soars
Above the pampas

The color of Spam
is natural as the sky:
A block of sunrise

Little slab of meat
In a wash of clear jelly
Now I heat the pan

Oh tin of pink meat
I ponder what you may be:
Snout or ear or feet?

In the cool morning
I fry up a slab of Spam
A dog barks next door

Pink tender morsel
Glistening with salty gel
What the hell is it?

Ears, snouts, and innards,
A homogenous mass
Pass another slice

Cube of cold pinkness
Yellow specks of porcine fat
Give me a spork please

Old man seeks doctor
"I eat Spam daily", he says.
Angioplasty

Highly unnatural
The tortured shape of this "food"
A small pink coffin

Slicing your sweet self
Salivating in suspense
Sizzle, sizzle..Spam

Pink beefy temptress
I can no longer remain
Vegetarian

For more nuggets of wisdom (or should I say slivers of hope?) CLICK HERE