2015 Calendar Scam

-->

I have fondly and in jest, been calling this project my “Great Calendar Scam”.   I have no affiliation with any government or non-government organizations and neither do I belong to any clubs or charitable organizations. 

It just started with a very simple idea of making a compilation of my watercolor paintings in a calendar.  There was nothing romantic or heroic with the concept to begin with.  It was merely another way of selling my works in an art fair.

Some are moved by storm surge, others by an angel’s whisper.  I changed course after a conversation with a friend who has always rallied behind my art.   She said that she would sell the calendars a few hundred pesos more and will donate the extra profit to Yolanda. 

Then I saw the possibility to help and the window of opportunity to put my art to good use aside from it being my personal therapy kit.  That was how it started.  From the plan to donate Php300.00 for every calendar sold to donating the entire profit to Yolanda. 

The goal is to raise a million to build a classroom where children can learn and find joy in discovering their potential, so that they will not always feel sorry for themselves.  After all, education is very close to my heart and its art is my full time job.

I am on my 179^th calendar.  There are 179 people with me in this.

We have neither name in politics nor fame in what we try to do but we know that if all of us nameless and fameless people gather, we are going to build a classroom in a place where the storm brought the sea to where it should not be and snatched lives and erased communities.  There is always hope and a chance to dream where children can learn and move on.

I am such an amateur in what I have embarked on lately but this I found out from the ordinarily godly people that I have encountered in this project:  Great wealth and riches come from the heart. 

Got weight? Get a cat.

There are layers they say, that build up around who you are as you live life, gain experience, suffer loss, disapointments, regrets and fears.  I am not sure if you turn into something like a pearl but the process is very much the same in my opinion.  The irritant starts the layers that would envelop it in much the same way again as how one comes up with a cough- to finally expectorate, regurgitate or expel!

How we wish that this process when it happens to us, would turn us into pearls, but instead it turns us into someone lackluster, full of fats around every conceivable part of our human body.  This form of cushioning helps us to survive but also, eventually... we die.

If it is not in quantifiable volume,  it is the dimensionless anger, spite, envy, wrath, rage, self-pity. fear, disgust, deception in different degrees, single or combined that wrap around a body in catatonic state.  Either way, it makes us fat.

Other people go through an opposite process.  Pared and skinned.  Every layer melts, wilts or shrivels.  The idea is to expunge the entire body - where the negative energy attaches.

Another gruesome scenario is the way our essence is blurred by influences of those who are around us or by our own expectations of ourselves.   In order to survive, layers and layers of masks or plaque build up to deny the painful truth.  Denial like procrastination is laziness in the highest degree.

the law of inertia
We allow ourselves to gather moss like a stone in coma, unless someone kicks us.
Then we are tossed and thrown and we hit the ground many times, bouncing till we stop.

 "For every action, there is an opposite reaction."
Someone, the Great Force has many ways of waking us up from our stupor. Everything is on automatic mode when the world with its universe was created.  The law of nature is a system that automatically kicks in once something is pushed.

This is what I call realization.  Realization happens in ways not always as fabulous as when Prince Charming brings the glass slippers to Cinderella or when the Prince kisses Aurora.  Sometimes one has to kiss an ugly toad to realize that it is handsome after all or dance with the beast to know that she is dancing with one!  Some realizations happen when faced with death or sickness.  Loss in all its meaning and in different circumstances, can be a powerful trigger but it can also bring dis-ease or discomfort that makes one sabotage all his awesome plans.

Such is life's paradoxes.  These can happen to some or to just one person.  One thing may be true to some but not to others.  Important is we keep trying but know when we have to try something else.  I have never succeeded in raising African violets nor in growing lavender and have not lost the last 10 pounds that will make me look good in my 250 peso Alexander McQueen.  I have thought in my younger days that someday, I will be interviewed by Oprah but I changed my mind...



So today, I got myself a cat.  After all these musings, that's what I did.  I got myself a cat and we are communicating.  It is already starting to call me Em-mmawww!

comfort and joy

Someone told me that we are basically cave men.  We retreat in the dark to rest. Should i say that we are like bats too? 

I can understand that.  We all seek some semblance of night during the day once in a while.  Inasmuch as sunlight is healing and cheerful, a bit of shade is soothing and draws inner reflection.

Fireflies love the darkness of night. Responding to the firefly in me gives me the joy of letting my light flicker and shimmer through which is only made visible by that stark contrast. 

How Not To Go To Church on Sundays

 The church bells ring.  But first, the alarm.  One passes through this before one gets to church.

There is no tricycle.
The husband is not prone to drive at 5am.
The overnighters will be left alone.

The driver always forgets.  It's not his business.

I like the 5am mass, not the 6 and the after every hour mass that's available.
Too many people after the 5am mass.

I like going to the Anripolo Cathedral.
It is huge and has a great following.
But I like the anonymity and the company of people who wake up at 5.
Yes, a bit of bad breath here and there but maybe they smell mine too.

No other church gives me the feeling of home.
No other church, especially not the subdivision chapel.

And they have no 5am mass.

But as I have said, there's no tricycle to pick me up.

The Sunday market beckons.
The ukay stores have new blouses or skirts every week!

I have to get some plants and cheap flowers.

I have to buy some organic vegetables.

I have to buy some mangosteen or fruits in season!

So maybe I also pray when I am happy and when I smell the rosal and camias and take them home!

Rosal is Php 50.00
A bunch of camias is 75.
Potted hydrangea 50.00
Mangosteen was expensive last Sunday at 150 per kilo
Cactus is 3 for 100
Louboutin sandals for 1000.00 brand new
Isabel Marant blouse is 250.

happiness is priceless.
it makes me saintly!

And husband likes to drive to the Sunday market
I tag along.

pretty louboutin that I never dreamed of having now in my feet

mangostten, durian and mabolo

hydrangea

The Middle Child

What mystery envelops a middle child?
Is he really more complicated than the first and the third?
Born after the first child who became the first experimental baboon to parents who knew little,
the second one was born with a degree of knowledge and experience which the eldest child provided these anxious beginners.

Then why the supposed syndrome?
This child of woe and complication was raised by parents who knew more, whose mastery of the craft of parenting has afforded them less sweaty palms and armpits.
Then why does this child of complexity raise such challenge and concern?

This child is between two siblings.  One taught him the ways while the third showed him how he is stronger and wiser.

He is not ever taken for granted.  He cannot be taken for granted because he will not allow it.  He is either a child who feels persecuted and thinks that nothing he gets is better than the rest, but he is also the offspring who loves the best, who defends his Kuya and who allows his baby brother to treat him like his toy bear.  He cannot be taken for granted because in the same manner that he gives the sweetest love,  he also demands that he is loved like there are no others.

The middle child can be the rainbow and the bright sun but can also be the thunderstorm.   And when he is all thunder and lightning, how he disarms his mother is a gift.

He prefers the villains over the heroes and sees the excitement and challenge over the despised, evil characters and how the heroes can be really boring indeed!

Yet his prayers are the most sensitive and comes out from him as a natural expression of his heart and soul - "dear God, thank you for the sand in the beach" and after he has taken our breath away and melted us in the warmth of such grace,  he'd jolt us all from revery with "thank you for my BAD brother" with a laughter that can only come from a very familiar and easy relationship with the God he knows. 

He boxed a schoolmate the other day, this middle child.  He said he had been forgiven.  Then why do the adults fuss over the incident?  He cried for an hour when he was told by his mother that parents will come the next day to reprimand him for hurting their son.  He had to learn a lesson and the elders were worried except for his grandfather who took him to his lap with so much love.

We do not know what will work but I know that this middle child will sort it out for himself.  Someone's gotta break 'em rules sometimes, and he is curious and daring enough- except that this time, the principal will be called in her very own office!

Maybe his daddy will see the principal.

The Problem with Grandparents

I am Ima and she is Lucy

1.  Grandparents have to be incarcerated.
They commit crimes like harassment, kidnapping, smothering, crippling and corruption.

Remember this face:  pudgy with a very sweet smile. If you encounter this person, she is a criminal!  This group of elderly citizens have learned to text too and are quite obscene.  Yet when you meet them in school, they smile at you with twinkling eyes!  They have a code name just like Agent 007.  Some are called Mimi, Mamita, Mama Yana, Abuelita, Lolita, Lola Doo,..They harass teachers, guards, principals, canteen personnel and the poor janitor. They also harass the poor parents of the child when they fail to bring the grandchildren on weekends or on daily occasions.

This one goes inside a guarded gate wearing a granny coat pretending to be cold.  She goes out the gate bulkier and with 4 legs.  She has decided to kidnap the poor grandchild from her PE class.

It is not surprising to see or sometimes not notice children being whisked off their porches or while playing on the street by an old driver of a sedan or limousine or taken by a frumpy lady with an umbrella and a paper bag riding a tricycle! 

Smothering is a common crime.  Children don't even have to breathe.  The grandparents can do that for them.  The little imps can't sweat, can't fall, can't get scratched.   They are smothered to perfection until the grandchildren, not the olds end with paralysis. Of course I am exaggerating. 

Bribing is corruption.  Children are introduced to this early signs of corruption from a barter of kiss and candies, sleep-over and toys, and many more combinations.

I can't blame poor grandpa.  AA or apo addiction is an indication of mental disorder.  The symptoms are hair loss, cranky fingers and redundancy.  When he starts getting delusional, grandpa thinks he is cold.  He piles up all the grandchildren to sleep on the bed easing out grandma.  The last one is premeditated.

 2.  Grandparents therefore, should  be institutionalized.
They can be delusional, compulsive liars and make people around them suffer from their paranoia.
Do I need to expound?

Grandma to the PE teacher:  She can't go under the sun.  She gets skin asthma, bronchial asthma, fried brains, hip dysplasia and warts!  She started hyperventilating since you made her chase that ball!

What is with PE?  How come Grannies hate it?

G:   Oh no, I did not give her chocolates!  Why will I do that? and no ice-cream!  Those are not allergies!  They are insect bites! You don't close your windows and doors that's why!

G:   Her teacher is a witch.  She is evil!  Then why would my grandchild be taught to hold a broom?

Impo, the greatgrandmother with J1,2,3

3.  Grandparents have to undergo speech therapy among other things.

Grandpa:  Come, let's go ah babath then ah wawipe.  Ah cow! Ah cow! (pointing to a carabao)  No bebe.  Ah go ako ah stor. A-sama? (I'm going to the store.  Are you coming?)

Guilty or Not Guilty?

NOT Guilty. Guilty of loving and over-loving.  Can't give enough.  But what are grandparents for?  they were made to do all these stuff.  To love their grandchildren without conditions and without limits.  To give till their last centavo.  Otherwise they are useless beings!

I buy toys but very rarely, and when I ask what they want for their birthday, the response is faster than the quick brown fox:  your heart and your love!!

Then this:
Grandpa:  Will buy toys tomorrow?  We can bring Ima.

breakfast in Frogglerocks

J:   Can we not tell Ima we are getting some toys?

Fried bananas, corn on the cob over red hotdogs?  

How corny can one get? 

This grandparent breaks a lot of rules and does not always follow the code of conduct and SOP's of these dry-skinned and flatulent members of the Apos-tolic Order.  She is guilty of homicide and first degree murder: code KJ!

I love this day

they serve themselves fried saba when I'm on duty

Cirque du Soleil

Grandparents are the only criminals who can get away with their crimes.  They are quite easy to pardon too.  The parents of these grandchildren have no choice anyway, even if they have promised repeatedly to their heart of hearts that they will not give the old folks the chance to spoil their kids.  (They are normally adamant with their first child. The resoluteness changes after a string of babies come!  You know...)

Regardless, the insensitve lolo and lola accused of spoiling and condemned to stay in the corner, endure the torture and in the tiniest opportunity welcome watching over the apos when the good parents are busy with work or when they are on break- anytime.

So we pray for all grandparents okay?  Pray that their eyes won't fail them when they serve fish for dinner.  That's why, I know a grandpa who would rather givem lil ones, warmdogs!

Mommy Eli

Mommy Eli with her oldest granddaughter and beloved great grandchildren

Mommy and Sugar, her eldest son

87 going 88!  double infinity!

Her life is well-spent on meticulous cleanliness and knock-out sense of order.
She could be immovably right on politics, world events, people, weather, religion and history! Her collection of books (she read all of them) is astonishingly BIG SCALE.

She loves beautiful things and has the extraordinary ability to turn a small space into a palace,  and a wide area into a sanctuary.  She is the ultimate manager and CEO.  With 11 pregnancies and 8 children, she is a SUPERMOM!  In her youth, she was a celebrated beauty and brains a.k.a. "Supladang Ely" written on electric posts or carved out on trees, masterminded by suitors and admirers who never got to the first base.  

She believes in chocolates as panacea for moody dispositions and if you are a "yummymummy", (is that how they call alternative moms?) you are in for a good sermon on why children should have a dose of chocolates! She has a cupboard full of nuts and candies,  jellies, cookies and chocolates just for all her great grandchildren.  She loves them tremendously that the sight of them would make her smile in spite of unbearable pain!  

I have lost my own mother, Mary to cancer 28 years ago.  She was only 67.  Having witnessed Ely's long and healthy life, I think I will know how to live beyond 80.  Still not sure though if I want it.

I would not have known and appreciated myself better had I been her all time favorite, but I would like to believe that I.AM. now.  Oh I love her when she loves me!



 She surprised me with a love that only my mother could give, the last time I was sick.  She came up to Antipolo very often to bring food she cooked in spite of the inconvenience of travel, only to cheer me up.  She was worried for me!  She even endured an excruciatingly long pray-over that made her rheumatic arm shake while holding her hand over my head.  That and Sister Bernadette's act paved way for a miracle because of a formidable faith.

So why do I write this?  It is because I do not want to forget anything that should be remembered.  Every person's life that we witness is like a book of knowledge and wisdom. My second mother, Eli, who braves living life this long, has been such a blessing to us, to me.  Such difference our parents make when they stand with their trembling and aching knees as parents for as long as they can hold, to show us strength when they are weak and to give us answers to questions that only they could provide.  They hold the key to our existence and no matter how long we have lived, we will always be our parents' sons and daughters and she, the light and glue of the family. So Mighty Bond Mommy, cheers to more years!!

Long live Eli!

Why There's Rain

gentle and strong

The adversity quotient is that kind of intelligence that makes men and women survive the most difficult challenges in life and is nipped by mothers, fathers and grandparents who are raising dough but not humen.

Children raised in a very limiting environment grow up with a very limited perspective and very low endurance threshold.  Parents do not realize this, but they are crippling their sons with the wrong kind of love, when children should be falling, tripping, getting dirty, coming home hungry, smelly, running under the sun, getting soaked in the rain, being rejected in a soccer try-out, failing exams, committing mistakes... 

Me: Do we think that being OA (over-acting) or dramatic will earn us the Famas Award or Oscars as the Best Mother in Comedy?

Boys can be taught to clean-up the mess they make, rise after a fall, try again when things do not go as planned and try better if he failed again. They should be taught to solve their problems, communicate, mend the tear in their shirt, sew buttons, plant a garden, raise a pet and be high in music, a job well done, a challenge well fought.  

The father of my children was very patient especially when he was younger :D  when our children needed to be brought to school, to soccer games and to soirees.  He carried my daughter who was very sick then throughout their jeepney commute to the hospital and back, week after week.  He went to market, he cooked and he ran a business.

He cried at my daughter's wedding, built her house, and loved all his grandchildren to a fault.

You:  Maybe that is why he has forgotten all our wedding anniversaries! 

All these did not make him less of a man. 

My father and my brothers were/are men of great accomplishments not only in the careers or vocations they have chosen but even more in their diligence as fathers of their family.  They developed their inner value that is beyond fame and money to that which transcends the ordinary image of a male or macho man.

These men that I have known have faults but they are alright.  They do not abuse women nor do they escape from what is difficult in life.  My sons and son-in-law have even exceeded the bar that the great men in the family have set.  That makes me proud.


These men fell from stairs, from walls, broke their bones, got hungry, were bullied, were poor at one time of their lives, wore broken shoes, smelled flowers, carried their babies, were "men for others", were not always right but were always kind.  They played in the mud, built something from scratch, handled maggot infested horse manure, bore the sweltering heat of the sun and got drenched in the rain.  They stayed in their tasks as well. 


Moral:
  The reason why there are husbands who quit is because they never got wet in the rain.

You:     That's a wild hypothesis.
Me:      But why would some men, fathers, sons and brothers quit their jobs?
You:     Blimey!
     
 

"How high will the sycamore grow?" - colors of the wind

Questions:

How are we raising our sons?  How are we raising our grandsons?  How are we raising our schoolboys?

Answers:

There is no guaranteed formula.  It depends on what you want to pass on to your son or grandson. It depends on the parent's emotional maturity and readiness.  It has to do with one's own cultural preference/s, socio-economic status, psychological stability and maybe even to some extent- reflective ability.

Q:  Why do we even have to think about it?
A:  Because we are raising future parents and leaders.
Q:  Why do we even have to think about it?
A:  Because what we do today as parents will impact in twenty five years.

Q:  Should we even care?
A:  Die if you don't.
      If you don't care about how you are raising your sons, then why care about the trees, climate change, employment, education, health, etc, etc,?

Parent:  I only care about what he needs now.
Conscience:  Then you are on the right track.  What does he need now?

P:  He needs me.  He needs things.  He needs food.  He needs shelter.  He needs recreation, education so he gets a job- a high paying one in the dessert, in the icebergs... wherever he can make money.
C:  The first things are not bad but money at all cost?  You forgot to say "fame".
P:  I want him to be happy.
C:  We all want to be happy!  God wants us to be happy and to have a purpose.  (cliche?)

P:  Today, my 6 year old son fell from the stairs...
C:  I'm sorry.  From top to bottom of the stairs?  Is he hurt?
P:  He fell from the last 4 steps, approximately one and a half feet.  I know you would ask this- no one pushed him, he fell when he saw me.  There should be someone to hold their hands when they go down the steps. 
C:  Does he know how to hold the bannister?
P:  He should be brought down the stairs by an adult.
C:  Teach him safety.  He is 6 and should find doing things by himself safely a source of confidence and accomplishment.  Accidents happen. Tell him not to run and to walk down the steps carefully and mindfully.

Q:  Why do our sons "weaken" when they see their parents?

P:  I want to be assured that this does not happen to him again.  
C:  There is no such thing!  Sorry Mommy.  


Next:  I don't want my son to get wet in the rain


 

Growing old in Frogglerocks

Never too late to start a hobby or a quest.  In a big sense, whether 16 or 60, our interest started somewhere in childhood.  It is always something that we have begun unknowingly or knowingly in our subconscious or consciousness.

The pursuit may come later but it does come if we listen to our heart's desires or longing.  I was raised in a garden and everything that fleeted or crawled or swooped was part of my growth and part of many daydreams and nightmares.

I bought with my retirement money a digiscope to watch the birds and butterflies and most things my poor eyesight does not allow me.  I take pictures of leaves and tendrils from trees with bees and even webs from atop trees.  I catch memories of creatures in flight or rest and sometimes at play or  work.  I am stacking pictures and images that I would want to paint in watercolor and so that when I lose my wits someday, my grandchildren will see something that was sane, before I talk nonsense in my hallucinations.

Watching birds is a pursuit I am embarking on now.  I know... too many things I want to do including a hundred watercolor paintings before my next birthday.  Not too good in this department but the inspiration I see everyday could snowball a hundred paintings!

I am proud that I did not buy a new car. My humble sum would only have allowed for a measly downpayment anyway.  I am glad that I allowed kindred friends or "teachers" to show me the wonderful moments of staying frozen in one's stance to enter the space of quiet flapping of wings and melodious perch on the magical boughs laden with fruits.

Surely, this requires time, time I may not always have.  But isn't deprivation the greatest source of creativity and resourcefulness?  I will find time.  

For now, this is my great source of joy and good health...

white-collared kingfisher on a rusty fence

indigo-banded kingfisher

a watercolor study

macopas for birds and humans

frogmouth

white-bellied munia at rest after a frenzy building its nest

tattered web

a dragonfly after a rain

Waiting for Lucy

These last few weeks of pregnancy are so murderously torturous.  Not mine but the ladies-in-waiting.  Ana would be as pregnant as a polywog but walked everyday meeting her quota of 6 hours every God-made day.  That was some determination pumped up by hormones that is otherwise not there when she is not heavy with a child.   And each time, each baby came out, it was all worth it.

I have mastered the art of waiting.  Waiting for each baby to come out.  From Ana to Marie and just two weeks ago, from Anne.

Waiting for Lucy was very zen.  Anne took her steps in the most pregnant way as her date was nearing.  She wobbled from leg to leg. I would watch her and shook my head.  I told myself: "That won't do!"  So I would shout from the bridge and call out to my son Juaqui urging him to bring Anne out of the house and go window-shopping where walking would be more entertaining.

Yet Anne was as zen as the pechays growing in my garden- slowly and quietly.  I managed to trick her to walk with me one day and brought her uphill and down, around the streets of Beverly and back.  Thank God I did not kill her!  I was worried after for she is not a spartan like Ana or the swimmer like Marie.  She is a doctor and she knew what she was doing.  Yet, there I was, the snooping and meddling MIL.

My son just shook his head when he found out that his wife walked with me.  I may be 60 but that is just a number.  I can pound the streets of the subdivision with steps that meant war and victory!

Walking with the MIL did not move the baby out of her mother's womb.  So I just waited patiently.  In fact, so as to keep my mind away from the birth, when, and how, I left for a few days and celebrated my friend Therese's birthday in Cagayan de Oro.

I painted while I thought of the baby and wondered... when do I see her? What do we call her?

I came home and went to the afternoon's graduation of The Little Farm House, where my eldest grandson, Jacob was graduating from preschool.  Jose and Sophia were going to perform a dance and so I prayed and willed for the rains in Landingan airport to stop.  In the afternoon, I was welcoming and speaking before parents and friends.  My phone rang in the middle of my speech.  That was my 6th granddaughter's birth unto this world.

Evanna Lucille was born on March 22, 2014.  The parents of my grandchildren knew what they want to call their children.  I supplied names everytime but none was considered.  I am very happy though with all their names!

So Lucy was born on March 22, 2014.  Oh the blessings of a newborn! She is pink with bright almond eyes.  She is my third granddaughter and the other 3 are boys.  I have no idea what the 7th will be but Lucy is firmly and undeniably beautiful just like all these gnomes growing in Frogglerocks.

She is a good reason to go up and down the stairs and to take a bath for.  Yes, Justo demands to be given a bath before a Lucy visit. And the dirty two other boys would whisper and hum a lullabye.  The 2 girls would come in their floral summer hats and would sit gently beside her.  Ziva did manage to pinch Lucy's toe a little bit.

Frogglerocks is happy for the wait!  Even the kingfishers are chatting joyfully by the river.

And oh, the arugulas are boastful in the garden, outside where Lucy lives.

Evanna Lucille

Lucy and me

Jose, Lucy and Jacob

Sophia, Ziva and Justo

cuddle time

I am starting to figure out how... after 60 years of groping in the dark and getting up many times from unsure footing!

My treasure map is brittle and torn around the edges.  I lost my way following it many times but somehow led me back to the spot.

Maybe I thought I wanted to be somewhere else but this thing about growing older is making me see more!  Ironic but the eyes are not even seeing well around this time of the season but I am seeing more.

I am seeing more potential.  HEDCen will bloom some more and fruit a lot lot more!
More flowers, more birds in my garden.
More adventures to fill my spirit.
More grandchildren.
More laughter and less guilt.

60 is no joke but yes, it's got perks!!  Very, very nice perks!

I thought

the babies will now be Ate and Kuya

It has been years it seems.
Now that I visit, it feels like I am a stranger discovering things on pages that I wrote.

So many things have happened.
I thought they were the same story repeatedly happening to me.

There were no words for a long time.
I thought I was a wretch and my days were extraordinarily ordinary.

What was I up to?
I thought I was not doing anything because I was working.
Picking my nose and the pieces of my life peppered with many beginnings.

I thought I did not know how to write all these
because there was nothing to write.
but as I tried to grasp in words the moments that fleeted by

I thought that I have to write again.

To write about my abundant blessings is making me fizzy inside.
Here's why.

the babies are growing.  they are incessantly talking and learning.
the toddlers are tall and fat and they are very funny and very sensitive.
there are new additions to the brood.  a baby girl waiting to be born anytime.
and another on the way in October!

So much to write about I realize now, while Kiera is teaching Golda how to keep vigil at night.