Only God Can Make A Tree

One afternoon, after we arrived home from the office, my husband and I decided to walk around our neighbourhood. The greenery was very soothing after a tiring day. The different trees lining the road grabbed my attention. Good thing I had my camera along, so I snapped away happily.

For some reason, this tree has always held me fascinated. Maybe it's the way the tree's branches spread up and out, as if reaching up to the sky. Maybe it's the way the leaves are arranged (Side note: phyllotaxy is the way the leaves are arranged on a stem; Haha, I could not resist that!): not all bunched up together, but not too sparse either, still allowing for the sun's rays to come filtering in between its fingerlike branches.

When the light is right, I find the tree so hauntingly beautiful.

Growing Up Too Soon?

I am amazed at the variety of children's clothes available nowadays. When I was a kid myself -- which was not so very long ago -- I remember that frilly party dresses with puffed sleeves and lace were de rigeur for little girls. Fast forward to 2009: tube tops and halter dresses, mini skirts and spaghetti-strap sundresses, blouses with plunging necklines, slinky dresses -- anything that is all the rage for teens and adults now have miniaturized versions for kids, toddlers, babies even.

The simple T-shirt with shorts or pants or modest skirts for girls seem to have been relegated to the back burners of kiddie fashion. Sparkly bling-blings and shiny baubles complement the outfits of "fashion-forward" children. I find it quite outrageous and over-the-top at times. Why rush kids into growing up and all the pressures that come with it? Why not let them enjoy their innocence for a little while longer?

Their childhood will be gone before we know it. Let them act and dress like kids when they are still kids. There's time enough for growing up.

Jackfruits on the Road

The sight of overloaded jeepneys on Philippine roads is such a ubiquitous one, that we do not blink anymore at seeing these vehicles loaded with the occasional live chicken or pig, fresh vegetables and fruits, flowers, assorted appliances, and -- if there is still space amidst all of these -- people.

This picture of a jeepney with a cargo of jackfruits (langka) was taken one Saturday afternoon in Cavite. With the riders hanging on the external rails of the jeepney, one would wonder what they would do if the jeepney suddenly hit a freakishly deep pothole and suddenly send the jackfruits tumbling down -- would they (a) try to catch them in the hopes of making off with an ingredient for homemade halo-halo? (b) be good samaritans and chase after them at the risk of life and limb to hand them back to the owner? (c) avoid being hit on the face for fear of having their pores exponentially enlarged by the nasty-skinned things.

I think that a more probable response would be (d) adopt as nonchalant a face as possible and pretend that the hefty piles of langka were not raining down on them. After all, why let go of their hard-fought places hanging on to the estribo and risk others taking their place?

Leave the jackfruits to the pedestrians. To paraphrase something that Marie Antoinette may not have actually said anyway: Let them eat langka.

Hark, the Headlight...

Hark, the Headlight Angels Sing...

My little Angel had been singing Christmas songs lately, quite enthusiastically I might add. In her endearing, if somewhat off-key manner, she belted out in her bell-like voice such classics as Jingle Bells, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, Silent Night.

And the classic Hark, the Headlight Angels Sing.

I gave her the green light to go on singing.

Of Boob Jobs and Skin Flicks

Ha! Got your attention with the title didn't I? Nope, I did not get a boob job, nor do I have a penchant for watching skin flicks.

It's just that these seem to be two of the hottest topics in Philippine media lately -- the sex video scandals that have spawned quite a number of Hayden puns, and more recently, the alleged leaking breast implants of our country's Kumander-in-Tsip.

What the !#$%^&^?

The media has had quite a heyday with these topics, what with the prurient interest of the public fuelling newspaper and magazine sales, and Internet sites logging hits upon hits. And our esteemed lawmakers are not much better either: a privilege speech focusing on the Hayden (and hidden) videos when there are infinitely a lot more items needing advocacy in the august halls of the Senate. And of course, the latest question on whether leaking breast implants really played a role in GMA's stay at the Asian Hospital.

What about improving the social services available to Filipinos, like having hospitalization for the sick as a right instead of a privilege? Or being able to define who has jurisdiction on correcting the error-filled local textbooks in our schools? Or having clearer guidelines on fuel quality and vehicles so as to eliminate the numerous smoke belchers on the roads? Or extending maternity leave benefits, for that matter?

Of course, nip slips and boob jobs and video clips of local artistas rate a whole lot higher in drumming up interest than those items above. After all, they're oh-so-entertaining. So of course those items can be relegated to a lower rung at the moment, in favor of those currently highest in the Filipinos' consciousness. Strike while the iron is hot, right?

I'd rather strike the right iron.

101 Nights

Yep, you read it right, 101 without the extra zero in between. I didn't suddenly turn into Scheherazade, although I would certainly welcome that storytelling skill to lull my older daughter to slumberland!

Back to 101.

Today was my first day back in the office, and I had some bouts of separation anxiety from being away from my baby, with whom I had spent the last 101 days and nights. Yes, 101 days and nights of being with her almost 24/7, of being (almost always) within 20 feet of her, of being able to run and comfort her whenever she whimpered, or cried, or hungered for milk, or needed to be burped, or was sleepy, or just needed to be held and cuddled.

Or maybe it was I who needed to hold and cuddle her, to smell her milky-baby powdery-scent, to feel her head with its warm fuzzy hair nestled on my shoulder, for my own comfort. It was I who needed to gaze at her and wonder at the way her innocent eyes would look at me, I who wanted to see her whole face light up whenever I smiled at her and she would smile back and chuckle, with her dimpled left cheek and oh-so-happy gurgles ensuring that I was wrapped around her teensy little finger.

Things weren't so bad today though -- I was not on the phone calling home every hour, nor was I constantly obsessing over how my baby was doing every minute. Of course it helped that the office is just a 5-minute drive from our house, and that we even get to go home for lunch everyday. It's also comforting to know that we can go home in no time at all if there is an actual emergency (knock on wood!). And of course the flood of email messages and scheduled meetings and reports to accomplish took a large chunk of time as well.

All in all I actually think I did well.

Till tomorrow comes. And I start missing her again.

My To-Read Pile

What does your bedside table have? I'm guessing, a lamp, paper, pen, maybe a phone, a couple of books. I have pretty much the same things, although I had to make do with putting some of them in the drawer.

You see, I have a pile of unread and half-read books beside me. And the pile is still growing. I don't know when the pile will stop growing. I don't know if I want it to stop growing.

Yes, I admit it. I am a bookaholic. Always have been, always will be.

And that's why whenever I see new releases from my favorite authors (Paulo Coelho, Dan Brown, James Rollins, Daniel Silva, Matthew Reilly, Steve Berry, Jessica Zafra, John Maxwell, among others), or titles from genres I am partial to (travel and food writing, Da Vinci-code type novels, Arthurian legends, biographies, even some business books) I immediately head for the nearest bookstore. And yes, I do have membership cards for Fully Booked, Powerbooks, and National Bookstore.

And so the books keep on piling up, even as I try to make a dent at 2-3 books per week.

But I'm happy about it. As far as I'm concerned, the more books the better -- I've even catalogued the lot! I even have quite a number still in my parents' house. Our shelves are packed 2- and 3-deep now, but hey, I'm not complaining.

I think my habit has now rubbed off on my husband as well, since his side of the bed isn't too different from mine!

Our older daughter also has her own book stash, and her favorite mall destinations are now toy shops and, yup, you guessed it, bookstores.

Hmmm... I might just yet be able to build myself a proper library someday -- with mahogany or teak floor-to-ceiling shelves, leather-bound first editions, humidity control...

Hey, if you can dream, why not dream big, right?