Where have you been?

After recovering from Covid, it was straight to work- a show, which was essentially the work of three and then a death and a funeral of someone I had known for years. And there was the drama of that - most of which was not visible on the surface- so there was also the effort of pretending that you didn’t know (nor care, which both look the same).

And then back to work again, a treadmill at full speed. And it’s June- half the year is gone and that familiar rising panic that time is too short.

I mean this is my life which compared to other lives, would probably be inconsequential, normal maybe for some or worse, fortunate.

But it’s mine.

And at the end of the day, we do the best we can.

Remember this day

I could say a million things about the results of the Philippine elections, but I won’t.

Instead, let me share this story my mom told us. When the Miss Universe pageant was held in the Philippines in 1974, my mom was a teacher at the Binmaley Central Elementary School. They got a directive to be part of a group that was tasked with planting flowering bougainvilleas along the sides of the highway so that when the Miss Universe candidates drove past (they were to go on a sight-seeing tour of The Hundred Islands in Alaminos) they would see, well, flowers. Even if they only did the Binmaley to Alaminos route, this would be about 47 kilometers.

Interesting times ahead..

The Covid Diaries 3

I finally tested positive, and the line couldn’t be any clearer or finely drawn as if it was screaming, ‘is this what you wanted?? Well here it is then..”

I’ve realised two things about this: 1) you really have no choice in the matter no matter how careful you are. This is the age (and future) we’re living in; 2) You need to be always prepared- ALWAYS.

But the symptoms have been mild; I can remember colds that were so much worse.

The only thing I wasn’t absolutely prepared for is food- I’m ravenous. Even Sam is ravenous. I want to eat steaks with fries; slow-cooked pork belly; pancakes with bacon and banana dripping with caramel syrup; vermicelli noodles loaded with chicken and prawns; steamed mussels eaten with french-bread slathered with garlic butter…

The Covid Diaries 1

So Sam tested positive last night.

I was all agog over picking up the bamboo plants over at Doyet’s the next day and it was to his credit that he thought of testing first, ‘just in case’. The red line came up swift and clear in a couple of seconds. It meant that sometime between Monday and Wednesday, in those beautiful, expensively maintained grounds in Queenstown, some dirty, stupid bitch had Covid and didn’t even know it and was passing it around like party favours. Or perhaps they did, but didn’t care as is often the case it would seem with a lot of people these days who shrug it off as if it was inconsequential.

Ugh. He rings Mary down at the flat, and I could hear her trying to keep her agitation down. So we’re all stuck at home and minutes later like in a terrifying dystopian movie, SMS alerts came up on our mobiles advising us of what we already knew.

Almost immediately after, I log into New World’s website and round up a couple of ‘essentials’- lemons (terrible supply these last couple of months), a jar of honey, cup noodles, potato chips, Lily’s favourite shaved deli chicken. In my mind, I go over the meals for the next couple of days; nothing complicated to prepare and easy on the stomach. Thank God for Filipino food like adobo which keeps forever (just make a big batch of it) and comforting arroz caldo.

I had been having allergic fits (pollen and dust mostly) the last couple of weeks with a warmer autumn season, but now suddenly, every sniffle, every itchy feeling in my nose felt like a portent.

But what could you do right?

Well, I cleaned the bathroom; did a weeks worth of laundry; finished all pending work deadlines; dusted off some books I had been meaning to read. The worst you could do really, is nothing.

And I comforted myself with the thought that next week, there were exciting courier deliveries to look forward to- a new Nespresso machine, a new pair of Yeezys and a bunch of morning Sunday Riley goodies.

Holy Week 2022

I have to admit, I miss the old traditions of Holy Week.

But that was a million years ago and even when I was last in the Philippines, much of how we celebrated it had already changed so much.

My homage to those days was practically doing nothing on Good Friday which I spent at Doyet’s. I started re-reading ‘Salem’s Lot’ by Stephen King; I took a long nap; I didn’t check my phone, muted all notifications; I didn’t even open my MacBook to watch anything. We had a nice Filipino dinner of sisig that I had made, boneless bangus and vegetables cooked in coconut milk. I went back to bed to continue reading.

By the time I decided to call it a night (just before midnight) I was more than half-way through the book, and fell into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.

Breakfast was longganisa and scrambled eggs and Black Saturday was a perfect, crisply-cold but sunny autumn day.

I’m over trying to plan exhausting holidays that are anything but relaxing. Tradition tells you to relax and to genuflect, but then there’s also the Christian motto, ‘God helps those who help themselves’.

So I’m sure that God wouldn’t mind if I chose action over reflection; items on my list are..

  1. De-scaling the Nespresso machine

  2. Sorting out my clothes now that I would be spending more time at the office

  3. Sorting the garden patch and transplanting some of the cacti

  4. Finding a gym

  5. Updating my cameras and my drones

  6. Sorting out work-stuff for the next two-months

  7. Sorting out the kitchen and my drawers

  8. Finding stuff to put into the inorganic bin

I grow weary

Fortunately, IOS is now considerate to your needs. When you have your bed-time set, it mutes things such as messages and notifications. Essentially, you go to sleep without knowing the world burned while you did, but then, WHO CARES??

Covid, Ukraine, Trump, Marcos, inflation, dying kids in Africa, melting glaciers, and disappearing Hawksbill turtles…mmmm. I need to vacuum the upstairs.

So how was your week?

  • Legs are the hardest to exercise. Ironically, they’re the easiest to develop. I’ve been persevering for a couple of weeks and I could feel a very noticeable tightness in my pants and shorts in the thigh area. This should compensate for not having substantial glutes.

  • Season 2 of Bridgerton celebrates love, and this is the thing. You’d be a fool if you believe in all of it, and you’re also a fool if you don’t.

  • Don’t underestimate the usefulness of the ‘walis tingting’.

  • There are people who love themselves by simply having a glass of wine at the end of the day, or who play sports to get that human connection. Leila and I create- it doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad (nobody is judging as it is for ourselves). Creativity keeps our soul nourished.

  • I wish I could have lechon for my birthday

Eating alone is a journey

Sam and Mary have started on the no-eating-anything-except-vegetables-or-air diet so I’ve been on my own as far as meals are concerned.

It was difficult doing my own thing at first which is funny because the whole process of preparing our meals was actually hard work:
1. you had to work with a fortnightly food budget of only $300
2. you need to make sure fresh ingredients are used before they go off
3. you need to use leftovers (which I loathe)
4. you need variety (important to me!)
5. you needed a healthy balance (even if given a choice, I’d have pork 6x a week)

It was easier during lockdown because I worked from home and I could start cooking at 4pm, but if I did go to the office on some days, I had about an hour to cook when I got home at 4:30, not that it mattered really if we ate late. But I wanted to get it done so I could exercise, or read or watch something.

But getting rid of the whole thing altogether (for now at least), was strangely freeing and unfamiliar. It makes you realize how much of meal preparation and meal-times are such rigid set-routines.

It goes all the way back to your childhood when you were called upon to eat and there were no buts around that. And that you couldn’t eat in bed (which I now do), or that if you were eating something expensive such as prawns or lobster, it had to be portioned. Or that you need to eat on time, or have three meals a day.

But ‘eating alone’ has thrown all the rules out the window, and now you can do anything:

1. …but not eat anything you want, like pork belly Tuesdays, fried chicken Wednesdays and Thursday night ribs. You just can’t. And I’m fine with that now.

2. I had pork ribs the other week though (St. Louis brand imported from the US) and the whole rack (about 1.5kgs) lasted me through two meals.

3. There’s such a thing as too many shrimps- especially when they’re frozen. Not as good as fresh.

4. I can’t have just toast for dinner. I tried and it’s stupid because I just get hungry after an hour. I’m working out constantly now that I can feel my energy ebbing when I don’t eat anything substantial.

5. There is something spare but beautiful in a plate of grilled salmon over ramen noodles.

6. Suddenly you have heaps of time to do stuff.

7. You save money

I'm actually fine...

..but not inclined to write about it. And this is the thing- I don’t do that much writing anymore. Work is fulfilling. Work makes me happy, I’m good at it, I’m fast and efficient, and I get paid well. But it’s no longer just writing.

At the end of the day, I finish chores, get to work-out (and can see changes in my body that I like) and I need to rest and relax, and there’s Netflix, my reading list (Gabriel Garcia is next, ugh), Lily the cat.

And then I remember writing so I open a fresh page (I’m currently using Evernote) and then close my eyes. When I was younger, there was a whole different world to see when I opened them. Now, it’s just this ratchet real one that I see. It’s like, I’ve lost that access. And I’m stuck here, but then you know, it’s fine, I’m happy. But there’s always a but…

small and inconsequential things

I found myself in the last few days, doing small, seemingly inconsequential things like finally getting containers for the olive and rice bran oils that I’ve been using for cooking. We got white plastic squeeze bottles, the kind you’d find at a restaurant and labelled them accordingly. Now they’re no longer in their 2 gallon and two-litre containers near the stove with an invisible pool of oil underneath. No matter how careful you were hoisting them up and tipping them over, there was almost always a small rivulet of oil that ran down the side which you end up not bothering to wipe off. And now that’s changed. And after that, I moved on to sorting the coffee area; threw away expired packets of protein powder; empty boxes of tea and using the espresso machine again. And this weekend, it’s sorting the pantry, rearranging the cupboards and doing an inventory on baking stuff, because yes- if I end up getting a Kitchen Aid mixer for the birthday, I just might take baking a bit more seriously.

Chores- they may seem insignificant, but they can save your mind you know..

Stop. It doesn't really concern you

You know what, it’s a beautiful day; I’ve finished my work; the cat looks happy resting under a side garden we’ve fixed up that’s now flourishing and healthy; I finally shed 1.5kgs (not that I even needed to when my weight is an ideal 74kgs); it’s a Thursday and there’s a relaxing three-day weekend ahead.

So why be bothered by anti-vaxxers, the Marcoses or people complaining why Chanel had a horse trot down its runway??? THEY COULD ALL GET FUCKED. Bye.

Office essentials

  1. AirPods (the fucking 3rd gen ones don’t fit- I had to put a ‘condom’ over them so they could stay stuck inside my ears but just barely).

  2. An external drive (where all my working files are so I could work literally anywhere as long as I have it and a laptop).

  3. Sunglasses

  4. Readers

  5. gum

  6. mask

  7. sweet treat (just for this week).