No, Not English. GMRC.

"Did he step on you?"

I froze, not wanting to lie but knowing right there and then I might have to. He looked grim.

"Why?" I hedged. I didn’t want trouble. We’d trooped to AA’s for dinner - my sister and the little girl in tow - because the yaya was sick. We’d given her two days off; and today, and not one of us wanted to do any cooking. Trouble was the last thing I wanted, not with four strapping males on one side and only the hub on the other.

"Because I felt you flinch, and I saw his hand shove you aside. So, did he step on you?"

I waved his concern away. "Can I answer that in a bit? I’m starving. I think I’d like to try this and this, and maybe some of that beef, as well?"

"Ma, you have to answer my question because if he stepped on you, I’m going to go up to him and throw this plate on his face."

"You caveman! What on earth do you want to go and do that for? You want a brawl? You want Alex to see you beat up a guy, or worse, get beaten up by all four of them?"

"No. But did he step on you?"

I glanced to my left. I waited for the four Koreans to drift away before I nodded. "Yes, he stepped on me. He stepped on my foot as he shoved me aside just so he could grab four sticks of barbecue. An apology would have been nice, but I wasn’t hurt so I don’t want you making a ruckus over this. Let it go. The little girl is watching you."

He clenched his fists, and for a moment, I thought he would make good on his threat to start a scuffle. Instead, he inhaled deeply before he told me, "Let’s eat at the first establishment that puts up a ‘No Koreans Allowed’ sign. I don’t know how you can put up with the Koreans at your workplace. These asses come here to learn English. What they need are lessons on good manners."

I thought about what he said while I chewed on my beef. He’s right. Their curriculum could use a little beefing up.

Dearest Chi-chi

 Do you remember the story behind this picture?

We were about to go home when someone yelled, "Wait! We haven’t taken photos!" So, we hastily looked for a place to pose. Normita’s man was a few paces behind us, so we had no one to hand our cameras to. In a moment of blondness, I grabbed the security guard gabbing away at a corner. I gave him my camera and told him, "Can you please take our picture?"

"Syor mam," he said. I showed him which button to press while all of you hooted and laughed. "Sus, anginon pa gyud ang sikyu!" Mimi ribbed. But the man was confident he knew how to handle my equipment. He cued us, "Wan, two, three… i-smayl!"

We smiled, only to burst out laughing when we realized instead of taking our picture, the guard had turned the camera off. The poor guy was flustered. He signaled that he will try again. "Wan, two, three…" His fingers strayed towards the big "off" button again.

"Noy!" we shrieked, only that time, the joke was on us. He had gotten it right; nd there we were frozen in a moment of pure hilarity - arms and legs akimbo, tonsils showing.

I grin whenever I look at this picture, Chi, because it reminds me how beautiful that night had been and what a truly wonderful person you are. I hope you feel the web of love and support the girls are sending your way. We do not for a single moment entertain the thought of failure. With a name like Maria, how can you fail? Think of the women with the same name. One birthed Jesus, and another made the hills leap to life with the sound of music.

So you see, you can make it in NZ, woman, because you’re strong and brave and fiercely intelligent and there are scads and scads of people who believe you can. Their faith in you will give you strength when yours weakens, and their outpouring of love will give you the courage to forge ahead, no matter what lies ahead.

You are loved. You’ve been missed, and now, it’s time you kick some ass in NZ. Show them girls who eat sardines have balls - serious balls. They’ve hearts sturdier and more stalwart than tin cans and they don’t take no for an answer. 

Four-eyed And Funky

There’s a way to be four-eyed and funky, and the only reason I’m blogging about this is because I’m antsy waiting for a non-Filipino to answer my YM’d question.

The key is contrast. Those with round faces should look for angular frames, and those with angular faces should try round frames. Thick, colored frames give you an edgyy, confident look. For summer, try reddish-brown and white frames.  

The Curves and Lines That Go Into a Story

I lurk at Sigbin.com because I am envious of Ramon’s artwork - some edgy, others nostalgic, but all of them with captions and storylines that fascinate. I wonder how it feels to peer at the world through his eyes and create with his hands.

He makes drawing look like storytelling, I thought yesterday afternoon. I’d been to hell and back that day, dealing with a very difficult non-Filipino and her seemingly infinite ability to throw temper tantrums. Desperate to ease the pounding in my head, I picked up pen and paper, googled nudes, and then made lots of lines - lots of strange, messy, dirty lines. Turned out, doing something I’m not good at could be fun, really fun.

This was yesterday afternoon’s therapy.

Bend, Not Break

The Ancient Car That Thought It Still Could

"Was that your sister?" he asked almost as soon as I plopped down the seat.

"Yes," I answered brusquely, hoping to discourage further conversation. I asked him to step on it as I was running really, really late for work.

Almost as if he hadn’t heard my semi-unfriendly response, he pelted me with questions. "How old are you? Are you married? Oh, and do you have a child? Where does your husband work?"

A part of me wanted to shush him up but the part that talks and makes judgment calls noted the heavily wrinkled face and gnarled hands, and figured this cabbie is probably just a lonely old man dying for conversation. So, I answered him while I busied myself trying to semi-scratch my face. My skin asthma attacks in tandem with my allergic rhinitis, and I was already wishing the workday would end even before it could start for me.

"I used to work in South Africa," he narrated in rapid-fire English. "I earned P150,000 a month. I used the money to start a taxi business. I now have 20 units, but I like to drive, too, because it helps me meet beautiful girls. Maka-jer-jer intawn ko’g batan-on tungod aning taxi-ha. I have a girlfriend, taga Talisay, 26 years old. She works for a call center. I fetch her from work. Likod sa ilang balay naa’y short-time-manan. Didto ko mabuntagan."

I felt my face burn with embarassment. "Doesn’t your wife mind?"

"She’s in Japan with my daughter. My daughter married a Japanese doctor. My wife will be home by July. She might mind by then. Sayo ko nagminyo, day. Disi-otso. Pero wa koy mahay kay karong dagku na akong mga anak, libre na ko maglingaw-lingaw bisan sa unsang pama-agi nako gusto, Ikaw, day? Asa diay imong bana?"

"He’s here in Cebu with me."

"Ah, maayo. Pirmi diay ka matambalan. Pirmi ma-change oil ba."

I cringe, and kept mum while he jabbered away. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before we reached my building. I handed him my fare. He waved it away. "No, I don’t need the money. I drive so I can talk to pretty little things like you. You can give me your number if you want."

I got out of the cab, feeling amused, appalled, and molested at the same time. He looked older than my lolo.