Fur and tequila

Some of you might recall the post I wrote about my neighbor, Julieta. Today, we planned to have an outdoor dinner at a local restaurant. My husband and I met Julietta outside of our door and she wore black furry boots with a Kangol bucket hat and her fingernails were painted a blush pink. Julietta could be old enough to be my mother.

During dinner I learned a lot about her: she believes, at a certain age, eat all the sugar and sweets you want, especially if you’re old. Her exact words were: “if you’ve lived this long, might as well indulge. Just take a shot if you’re diabetic.” She was not joking. She truly meant what she said. I also learned that she taught her children to never accept food from strangers, even from family. If they were served food, they would have to get permission from her first- usually indicated by a slow and stern nod. Julieta also shared that it was a culture shock when she and her sons immigrated to Los Angeles from the Philippine in 1990. Her sons cried almost everyday, homesick and longed to be reunited with their grandparents and cousins. They were 11 -years old at the time and just started public school for the first time. They couldn’t believe how the girls dressed-tank tops with spaghetti straps, skirts and shorts high above the knees. “They couldn’t handle it” Julieta said. Then she licked the salt from the rim of her strawberry margarita.

This is the first time my husband and I broke bread with Julieta. In addition to the time she came over unannounced with a bottle of wine in September, this is the second time we spent a substantial amount of time together. It’s too early to determine what kind of friendship we’ll have- a fleeting or lasting one. I can say that I’m enjoying the company, especially learning about the life of a remarkable woman who lets me believe that eating the second helping of dessert is good for the soul, that accepting food from strangers isn’t dangerous but mildly rude and that no matter what age you are you should can dress in faux fur and don pink fingernails, while sipping on expensive tequila. Her stories may be wild, but like her adage about age- if you’ve lived this long, might as well indulge- fur, tequila and all.

Photo by Alexander Dummer on Pexels.com

My Christmas tree is not pinterest worthy

My Christmas tree is not pinterest worthy. It doesn’t have a color coordinated theme or have big cascading ribbons running down it or have vintage ornaments or glass glittered balls. Yet my tree is still very special.

A few years ago my husband and I started the tradition of collecting tree ornaments for all the places we visited. So far we have over 30 pieces which include memories from New York Public Library, Iceland, South Africa, the Oregon Shakespearean festival and even the State capital– Sacramento. However, the most special ornament is the personalized pineapple we purchased in Hawaii. I remember the trip vividly because it was the first time I had visited Hawaii in over 15 years and we were celebrating our two years of marriage. It was 2018 and I had just started a new job, my sister was about 7 months pregnant, and I was planning her baby shower, and Mel and I had just moved into our new condo in South San Francisco. There were many reasons to celebrate that particular year. I can recall all the dishes, places and beaches we enjoyed during that trip in Hawaii, yet every year, when I take out all my Christmas tree ornaments, it the pineapple ornament I enjoy unwrapping and hanging first. I also make sure that I place it in the front center of the tree, eye level to the couch so that when I’m watching TV or relaxing in our living room, it’s within my visual reach with an unobstructed view. Sure, throughout the year, I have the advantage of looking at my digital photos on my phone and reminiscing about our memorable trip, but there’s something about the tradition of holding the ceramic piece in my hand and running my fingers on the scripted engraving and rubbing the smooth edges of the pineapple green leaves and yellow skin that take me back to paradise.

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Thankful 2020

It’s interesting how this pandemic has given most of the us the opportunity to slow down and reflect. With our options of being outdoors and social interaction being limited, we are invited to appreciate the people and relationships in our lives that have sustained us during this very challenging time.

With that said, this post will be short but sincere.

We didn’t have the traditional gathering at my mom’s house yesterday; we kept it small and intimate. Never the less, it was very special, especially watching my niece as she ate a biscuit for the first time and pronounced it “buwisit“. LOL

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Building and opening doors

In one of my previous posts, I wrote about my tradition of creating a piece of art for any place I move into. I usually allow the dust to settle and let the home speak to me before I start creating or begin the creative process. It’s important to me to create something for my new abode because I see it as a peace offering– a way to suggest that I appreciate this new space and will take care of it. I also see this opportunity as a way to set the tone — to allow art to speak volumes of the type of energy and spirit I want to cultivate and preserve.

We moved into our duplex in early September, about two and half months ago, and I have yet to create a piece of art for our new place. However, over the weekend, my husband and I worked together to install a barn yard door for his DJ room. this experience brought us many first; it was the first time he and I actually used a drill gun together; it was the first piece of “fixture” we built and it was the first time we installed something that required measuring, screwing and drilling. Although what we created wasn’t a piece of art, the door reflected what I had hoped to accomplish with any art project-to create memories, to contribute to the home, to bring us together.

I’m reminded that every once in a while, it’s okay to break traditions as long as other traditions are made. In this case, I’m don’t mind that I’m not creating art independently. I have replaced it something better: My husband and I created a very practical and beautiful piece of craftsmanship for our new place. I couldn’t me more proud of us.

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Four teachers affected by COVID

I was facilitating a training on zoom today, and when the last teacher we were waiting on joined the call, although we could only see her face virtually, it was very clear that she was under distress. The other teacher asked her if she was ok and without hesitation, she immediately began crying. I didn’t know the teacher very well, unlike the other two teachers, so I just listened as they carefully broached her. It was then that the teacher revealed that she just found out that both of her parents tested positive for COVID. What was worse about the situation was that the father had contracted it at work, where eight people also became effected.

The teacher went into details that included why the father was still working, that they lived in a small town in a different state and before the positive results, months ago, had already decided that they weren’t traveling to the Bay Area for the holidays– it was too risky.

Some time during the conversation it dawned on me how each of us on the call had been affected by COVID. While we weren’t tested positive, our lives, though vastly different were suffering in some ways.

As you know, for me, COVID and the pandemic, affected me two months into sheltering in place. My husband was furloughed and eventually let go and because we were down to one income, we made the decision to move to the east bay. If I have to return to work, my previous 2 mile commute will now change to a 45 mile commute. On a good day, I’ll be lucky if the travel to and from work will be under two hours. There is the other possibility of me getting a different job, something closer to home. While this may be an exciting opportunity, it really saddens me because working in South San Francisco has been my dream job.

Then there’s teacher #2 who has to manage working and providing child care for her two boys. She and her husband both have very demanding jobs and between the two of them, they have to schedule meetings, find quiet spaces in the house, arrange time to share the working computer all while feeding, disciplining, watching, and playing with their sons. She confessed to me at the end of the school year in distance learning that she felt she was failing. She shared tears on that call too. I managed to tell her that we know she’s doing the best she can do. Still, there was something in her voice that let me know that she felt like she needed to more, even though I reassured her that we are all adjusting, and that what she was doing at work and at home was more than what anyone could expect during this very complicated time.

The other teacher brought up how not seeing her students has greatly affected her. She also confessed that for some people, sheltering in place in isolation is too much for a single person. Going months without talking to another individual, in person, including her students made her feel more alone.

There we were, on the zoom call, through our computer screens, four women, talking about the different ways COVID had affected our lives. In that moment, I had never felt more connected with a group of people I barely even knew.

COVID Corona Virus

When I reflect on this year, I can’t help but ponder how much COVID has greatly impacted my life. Like many households, my husband and I are down to one income- mine. He was furloughed and eventually let go in June- three months into the entire country going into shelter in place. We could have stayed in our condo in South San Francisco, but we knew that the smart decision that would finance our goals of owning a house would be to move to a more affordable place. Hence why we moved to Concord California- a suburban city in the east bay.

This decision didn’t come easy.

One favorable aspect about living in South San Francisco was that I was 3/4 of a mile from my job. It took me less than five minutes from me leaving my front door to arriving at my office door. I never imagined living and working in the same city, but I had finally achieved a goal I never thought could be a reality. I left home with ease, not having to worry about being late or eating my breakfast on the go. Sometimes, I even had time to exercise and meditate before work. I could also come home and unwind and not arrive in a grumpy mood because of traffic or be pooped out because of a long commute.

I also worked on being part of the community. I joined a facebook group of the residents of South San Francisco, I registered my husband and I for a Catholic church, I made an attempt to introduce and exchange pleasantries with my neighbors. We even volunteered for a Filipino Organization- PBRC. Over the summer, I coordinated a visit to the historical society just to learn more about the city’s past and unique history. I definitely made more of an effort to be a more involved resident.

Lastly, I miss being around my people. South San Francisco is a city with a high population of Filipinos and with Daly City as a neighboring city, Filipinos are abundant. Everywhere I went, I heard words and phrases of Tagalog– a lost language I don’t often hear daily since living with my parents. Filipino restaurants are plentiful. I had a go to restaurant for pancit, lumpia, cassava cake, and even had a favorite plant based Filipino restaurant. I’d go to Serramonte Mall and I’d see so many people who reminded me of my own family- buying chicharone and lottery tickets at the stand up store or manongs huddled and congregated at the center of the mall wearing Navy and Air force hats that often reminded me of my grandfather.

“Living in South San Francisco was a very special time in my life. I saw so much representation in my culture, identify and goals in life”

So when we made the decision to leave, it painstakingly difficult that I didn’t allow myself to really sit with the pain and decision because I know I would have probably changed my mind.

Yes, I miss South City, but when I consider my life in Concord now, I have no regrets. I know I’ll find joy and purpose in this new place. Like with all new chapters in life, it’s only the beginning.

A class with Tony Robles – “The People’s Poet”

Today, I had another great opportunity to take a virtual writing class with Tony Robles,”The People’s Poet”, the author of the poetry and short story collections, Cool Don’t Live Here No More–A letter to San Francisco and Fingerprints of a Hunger Strike. He is the current writer in residence at the Carl Sandburg Historic Home in Flat Rock North Carolina.” More information taken from his website states that “his works have been widely published in anthologies and journals including, Where are you From?, Endangered Species, Your Golden Sun Still Shines, Born and Raised in Frisco and Growing up Filipino Volume II. He was shortlist nominated for Poet Laureate of San Francisco in 2018 and a recipient of the San Francisco Arts Commission Individual Literary Artist Grant in 2018. He is a housing justice advocate and the nephew of the late Filipino-American poet and historian Al Robles.

This is my second class with Tony, and I have to say his classes are life changing. He holds space and provides craft talk while providing ample time to write, share and receive encouragement and feedback. It was a two hour class but because it was so engaging, it felt like 30 minutes.

I’m not a poet; I’m more of a prose writer but, here is one piece I wrote today during class:

Christmas smelled like sizzling garlic and roasted pig

A white ceramic place greeted me – filled with bright greens leaves

cold orange wedges

noodles shaped like the letter S

soft and sinewy, salted with soy and ginger.

Your feet worked in this kitchen

Your belly rested above the plaid waist apron

You pushed the meaty flesh of your skin against the counter,

Pushing the rolling pin covered in white speckled dust like new fallen snow

1,000 words or less

Today I had the great privilege to attend a virtual writing session with the great Veronica Montes, author of Benedicta Takes Wing and Other Stories, a collection of short fiction. Ms. Monsters opened the class with a quick introduction and then an overview on flash fiction. I always find flash fiction to be difficult; I love words- the more, the merrier. So it’s always a challenge when I have to write with a word count restriction. In this case, flash fiction is usually 1,000 words or less and it must be a full story, meaning a beginning, middle and end– and with an arc.

Our first prompt was to write one sentence that tells a character, setting and conflict. We had 10 minutes to write. Here is one sentence I wrote:

In the bathroom, Joyce saw a thin strand of blond hair tangled in her husband’s hair brush, even though everyone in the family had dark hair. 

Our second prompt was to take a character from any of our sentences and write more about the character. This time we had to take three consecutive letters or numbers and write no more than three sentences that explains why each letter or number is significant to the character.

This was our example:

This is what I wrote:

1 is the number of abortions Joyce had. Even though it was 20 years ago, she could still remember the crushed velvet curtains hanging in the waiting room and the surgeon saying “sweet dreams” before the anesthesia kicked in.  

2 is the number of times she made the dean’s list in college. To celebrate, she got her right nipple pierced. To this day, she still can’t drive with a seat belt over her chest without getting aroused. 

3 is the number of times she performed CPR on someone. Once on a student in the middle of her class. The second one to a man who collapsed at the gas station. The third one was her father, who she never was able to resuscitate. 

I definitely need more practice with writing flash fiction, but I’m thankful for the experience today with Ms. Montes and I look forward to improving in the craft. 

Special thanks for PAWA for hosting!

Stuck in my car

The other day I spent roughly three hours waiting in my car in a parking lot. I spent most of the time on my phone- watching Netflix, scrolling on the internet, checking my email and then reading my book. On occasion, I took stretch breaks by walking around the lot. Sure, I could have driven around, but I was accompanying a friend to his doctor’s appointment and we didn’t know how long it would be, so I didn’t want to leave in case he needed me. Because of COVID, i couldn’t actually go in the hospital, so I waited in my car. I volunteered to accompany him because I just wanted to be there- to show my support and let him know that he wasn’t alone. Yes, he has the support of his family, parents and friends, but sometimes it’s better off to experience things with one other person. I should know. When I had a miscarriage and had a D and C performed, I only wanted one other person with me.

My friend and I have known each other since middle school, but we became close friends way after high school and college- about 15 years ago, when we were both about 26 years old. Since then we’ve celebrated a lot – birthdays, holidays, love , and we’ve also gone through a lot of tumultuous times as well- breakups, job loss and health scares. When I was first diagnosed with hyperthyroid and was having heart palpitations, it was him who I called to calm me down and give me sage advice. He was also the person who flew 13 hours to the Philippines to be in my wedding. He is also the same person who I confide in when I need to hear the harsh truth, knowing he won’t pass judgment regardless of what I say or not say.

There are many things friends will do for one another. Some will fly across the world for you. Some will tell you the blatant truth regardless if you’re ready to hear it. Some will even wait in the car for you, no matter how long it takes.

Congratulations VP Elect Kamala Harris!!!

There’s still hard work ahead, but today we celebrate the unyielding possibilities.

https://www.npr.org/2020/11/07/930858267/game-changer-kamala-harris-makes-history-as-next-vice-president?utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=npr&utm_term=nprnews&utm_source=facebook.com&fbclid=IwAR3A6jd_VDCvRtSas6A7Hfk8VwTdLKlR7r00pfp_yVzS6fRf8A-PTU4gr3k&fbclid=IwAR3uGv_1YZGByyFbGFZgo3MWNB4mC1Fvj44Sto6IhHQ5Vr-f3veIv6oxpwU

Presidential Race 2020

I’m writing this around 6:20 PM on Tuesday, November 3, 2020. We are hours, maybe days, away from all the votes being counted, and it is too early and too soon to call who is the next president. Right now Biden is in the lead with electoral votes, but things change minute to minute. Trump had a strong lead for a good hour.

I spent most of the day attending a virtual conference for work. The conference was about how to better support English Learners, and it was the distraction and positivity I needed to temper my expectations and mood today. When I think about the election, I’m overwhelmed with fear and anxiety.

What I have been focusing on is the unprecedented number of voters. On my feed, I see people posting about turning in their ballots early or encouraging others to make a plan for voting. Folks are posting pictures dropping off their ballots, wearing their stickers, posting memes, articles or videos about the importance of voting this year. I can’t remember a time when everyone emphasized the power of voting. I know we vote every four years, but this election feels different, like one’s life depends on in. In many ways, this year, that feels particularly true.

Again, I don’t know what the outcome will be, but either way I will be prepared by celebrating or continuing to fight for the safe, inclusive, thriving America I envision to live in. I know the hard work is not finished.

#Biden/Harris Battle for the Soul of the Nation

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

October: I did my best!

October was a busy month for me; it was evident in the decline of posts on my blog. In the previous months, I went from 4-5 posts a week, yet this past October, I was lucky if I had at least 1-2 posts a week. Things probably will remain busy for me because I am taking on-line classes to fulfill a TESOL certificate. It’s something I have always wanted to earn and leverage a position as a ESL instructor for community college. I have always wanted to teach at the post-secondary level, and having a TESOL and a Master’s Degree will help me accomplish this goal.

When I think back at all the tasks I wanted to accomplish in October, I immediately feel a sense of disappointment. My biggest goals were to PR my 3 mile run and to be more active on my blog. I did not accomplish either one. I went for a 3 mile run yesterday and added 5 minutes to my PR time and I only posted nine times last month.

Yet, October was also a milestone month for me, even though I didn’t accomplish what I had originally intended. My biggest take-away for the month was realizing that it was Filipino American History month and to be honest, I had never really celebrated it in the past, but this year the experience was very different for me. I started off the month by attending Pinayista– a weekend gathering of pinays in the hustle filled with speakers, panels, lightning talks, interactive workshops, music, sporadic dancing, and meaningful connections. Then the next weekend I attended UndiscoveredX, an online exposition of artists, change-makers, and entrepreneurs accelerating Filipino culture. I learned so much about OPM (original Pilipino music), authors and book talks. And to top it all off, I read for PAWA for their emerging Filipinx writers’ panel. Also, I accomplished many work related tasks like giving two presentations and finishing all the state-mandated tests. All the while, I learned to cook new vegan recipes and spend quality time with my niece Aiza.

Sure I didn’t accomplish my fitness and writing goals, but I learned so much about my culture and was able to read a couple stories about my life to a digital audience comprised of family and friends. All is not lost for October. I may have not run the fastest this month. Nor did I write the most this month. But I became closer to my roots, my craft and my family and friends while eating well and helping teachers. In this turbulent time in life, we have to appreciate the our goals, even if we never meant to accomplish them.

Enjoy some pictures from October…

notes from a session in Pinayista

notes from a session in Pinayista

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  me and Aiza at the pumpkin patch

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  post for PAWA

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  I made a vegan Vegetable fricassee
  And cauliflower mash
  

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  I supported a small business at Undiscoverd