Vicarious

August 11, 2008 at 9:23 pm (Books, Places, Pleasures of Travel, Relatives, Son, Surprises, Tel Aviv)
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As loyal blog readers well know, self has greatly enjoyed living vicariously through son’s peregrinations across Spain, France, and Italy this summer, and today is his last day in Rome. When self woke up, she looked at her watch and thought, “He is finishing up his Vatican tour,” the one self paid for and arranged on the internet (oh, how self loves the internet!), the one that included the Sistine Chapel, the Pieta, and St. Peter’s Basilica.

Self has also been living in Tel Aviv — yes, longer than the three weeks she was actually in Tel Aviv, through phone calls and e-mails to Ying and Dear Bro. Now, that too is coming to an end. For the doctors were ecstatic at the results of Ying’s bone marrow transplant. She may soon be allowed to go home.

Then, self finds herself reflecting on the highlights of the summer (or of the year thus far). She’s having fun watching the Olympics, which is in a whole other hemisphere. She’s also been writing a lot of stories about explorers, stories that take place not only in another hemisphere, but in a whole other era. When Dearest Mum comes and leaves, there is always a day or two when self feels at a loss. The energy seems to have left with Dearest Mum, and all that self has to fill the vacuum is a foot-high stack of books by her bed. And self realized (a long, long time ago) that here, in California, her most intensely lived moments are inside her head. And the realization scared her exceedingly, for she then had the follow-up thought: This is not normal.

For in Manila, where she lived until she was 21 years old, there was no question that she was in her life. The smells, the people around her, the experiences were so vivid.

In California, self moves with a — let’s call it a certain detachment. For two decades, though she studied at Stanford and later worked there as a program administrator, she didn’t know what those huge palms were called, the ones that line University Avenue. She didn’t even know that the gumamelas that grew all over her backyard in the Philippines were here, too, though called by another name (hibiscus), and that the flower she knew as santan back home flourished here, but as lantana.

When she started to write stories, she found that the events in the stories were far more colorful than her daily life. And, and — WHERE are you going with this line of inquiry, self? Self has no idea.

You see, it all started when, about an hour ago, self realized that she was going to let her New York Times Book Review subscription lapse. It probably lapsed some months ago, but last night she was still thinking of calling, making complaints (Why was she not given notice that her subscription was about to expire? Would that not be the courteous thing to do, to a customer who had subscribed without interruption for 10 years?), and setting the account to rights. But now she thinks, no. Even though the reading lists self drew up from perusing the New York Times Book Review were the first posts that lured readers to her blog (that and the weekly updates to last year’s HBO smash, “Rome”!!)

There are simply too many things to read in this world! Things such as:

    the Chang-rae Lee novel, Aloft, which has self’s attention in vise-like grip this morning (White male protagonist has crazy Asian wife: will she set the house on fire or murder her two children one day when passive husband is at the office?)
    Jeanne M. Leiby’s wonderful collection, Downriver, which self is reviewing for the Women’s Review of Books
    Viktor M. Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, which she has to teach to incoming freshmen (in about two weeks)
    the Sunday New York Times of three weeks ago
    The Economist of two weeks ago

You see how much reading material there is, lying around in self’s house? This doesn’t even include the literary journals (self must have subscriptions to about 10). Self’s life is all about reading. Yesterday self read a Vanity Fair interview with Bette Midler who, when asked what “her idea of perfect happiness” was, replied: “an empty house and a good book.” How self loved that answer. For that is self. Self’s feelings exactly.

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The Latest III

August 6, 2008 at 6:03 pm (Calls, Conversations, Movies, Relatives, Son)
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Self has spoken to Ying. She sounds so much herself that it is a little hard to take in when she says she is “very dizzy” and running a fever. Still, we are able to conduct a normal conversation, about books and Dearest Mum and what-not, and in the end it’s self who has to cut the call short, for fear she’s overtaxing her sister-in-law.

Then, self finds herself filled with anxiety that she has not heard back from monastery (even though website through which she made the reservation says to give them “three days”, and it’s only been one day). Oops, there she goes again, dialing poor Sean’s cell. And Sean is by himself “in a supermarket,” no son in sight, so OK, so sorry . . .

And then self gets e-mail from her brother-in-law in New York: seems some of Dearest Mum’s unpaid bills are piling up and brother-in-law doesn’t know what to do.

And then, and then . . .

But what more is there? Self simply has to screw her brain on tight and hope for the best. Perhaps self should just go and see a movie, to take her mind off things. While self was tooling around Mendocino, she heard a local commentator give a really enthusiastic review of “Mamma Mia!” If only self were still into ABBA. And Netflix just sent over “Stop-Loss,” so if self doesn’t feel like paying for downtown parking she can just stay home and watch Ryan Phillipe and Abbie Cornish play out their (at the time presumably subliminal) desires.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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Brain Cloud: Call to Son, Mountain View Farmers Market, Woodside Bakery, Call to Ying

July 27, 2008 at 11:58 pm (Brain Cloud, Conversations, Food and Drink, Relatives, Son)
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It is Sunday. You made yourself go to the Mountain View Farmers Market because the last time you went was who-knows-how-long-ago. Before you left the house, you did as hubby requested and called sole fruit of self’s loins (even though your last call was only yesterday, and calling two days in a row significantly lowers your “coolness” quotient, which you have been steadily stoking ever since son got to Spain, because you know about the Guernica and the black Goyas). So you called and son was in the Prado (Oh miracle of miracles, self has raised a child who goes to museums of his own accord!) and he was (as you suspected) none too pleased to hear from you again, and as soon as you had hung up you turned to hubby and asked, What time is it there? And hubby said, 6:30 p.m., and since self had distinctly heard a guide talking somewhere in the background, it was a matter of no small amazement to self that the museums were still open at that hour.

And then you were in Mountain View. And the thing you never expect to happen happened: that is, your mind went wending down all the highways and byways of memory, and you thought of son’s 11th birthday party, which we celebrated at Colonel Lee’s Mongolian Barbecue, and this you remembered as you wended among the booths in the (exceedingly crowded) Mountain View Farmers Market, and it seemed to you that the cookie lady had grown much grayer since you’d last seen her (only a few months ago!) And then you wended your way home bearing peaches and organic tomatoes and seven different cookies (pecan, chocolate chip, coconut macaroon, you name it) and a 12 oz. package of artichoke, gorgonzola and walnut ravioli (for dinner tonight, $8.25) and you were so pleased with yourself.

In the middle of the afternoon, hubby, who’d been declaring all summer that he was fat and wanted to take up bicycling again, announced that he was going to actually go biking. You waited but he did not move from his computer and was still there an hour later. So, finally, you suggested dropping by the Woodside Bakery for some coffee — a little change of routine. And after much dithering hubby finally decided that that was exactly what he had in mind to do. And after you had gotten your iced coffees (which was such a bargain, really, only $3.50 for two) you walked across to Emily Joubert, one of your favorite home and garden stores and, as luck would have it, there was a 50-75% off sale of selected items, and you got yourself a big throw pillow (originially $83) for $20, and a beautiful handmade ceramic bowl (called “Small Rain,” how lovely is that) for $13.75, perfect for holding the peaches you’d bought in the farmers market that morning.

And you can’t end this post without mentioning that today you finally got to talk to Ying, for the first time since her bone marrow transplant. And she sounded much the same as she always does (in fact if you closed your eyes you could very well imagine you were in Manila, both of you, sitting across from each other at the breakfast table). You asked her if you could send her audio books but she demurred. And you asked her if she was eating and it worried you exceedingly when her voice faltered because you knew she was going to tell a fib, you just knew it, and you told her that she mustn’t lose anymore weight, and you also told her this really stupid thing, “You will pull through,” which is something you swore you would never ever say to anyone who is sick, it is totally asinine, but Ying only laughs. And you hear the doubt in her voice (which makes you want to smack hubby, who is standing right next to you, smacking his lips because he’s just stuffed his mouth with a slice of prosciutto slathered with melted butter).

And after Ying tells you that she is being fed intravenously, you turn your attention to dinner. And the memory of Ying stays with you while you cook: lentils, rice, curry.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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Random Conversation

July 12, 2008 at 7:03 pm (Conversations, Relatives, Surprises, Writing)
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Self undertook to write a story during Dearest Mum’s latest visit (only a month ago, how time doooes fly!).

Story was about a man, his wife, and the man’s plain mistress, living in Sampaloc.

Dearest Mum expressed extreme eagerness to read draft.

Self allowed it.

Dearest Mum read a few pages, then put it aside. There was an oddly prim expression on Dearest Mum’s face.

There ensued the following conversation:

Self: What’s wrong?

Dearest Mum: You spend too long getting to the “fun” stuff. What’s all this about the beautiful skirt the wife wears? And, besides, it’s not realistic. No one would have a plain mistress in Manila. That’s just crazy.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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Brain Cloud, Thursday, 3 July 08: Farmer’s Market, Shopping for Baby, Buying Stachys

July 4, 2008 at 2:18 pm (Brain Cloud, Calls, Relatives, Son)
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Kind of up and down, yesterday.

Dug holes for two new plants, ruined three-day-old manicure but physical exertions extremely beneficial to self’s frame of mind at the moment.

Went to San Carlos Farmers Market, did the following:

  • Paid $3.50 for a basket of supposedly organic strawberries (sold by two flower children: authentic 60s look, hair), which are the “wee-est” strawberries, small and mis-shapen, that self has ever had the opportunity to purchase.
  • Stopped by stall of favorite baker, Fleur Chyld, but this one seems always overwhelmed with customers lately. Stood and stood and stood while a woman tried every single biscuit and cookie on display. Finally dug up temerity to ask whether self could have a sample of a raspberry bar. Though Fleur Chyld man freely gave samples to other customer, he told self he had no samples. So self walked away without purchasing anything.

Stroller shield for Heather’s baby shower arrived in the mail. Self panics, thinks it is much too paltry-looking for a shower that is being held in Il Foranio in Burlingame, rushes to Hallmark Store and purchases green and blue tissue paper, and cute, matching blue and green gift bag decorated with the words B-A-B-Y. Self decides to throw in a greeting card for good measure.

Went to Redwood City Nursery with list of shade plants to put underneath trees in the backyard (helleborus, campanula). Instead, ended up purchasing several quart containers of sun-loving Stachys (Lamb’s Ears) because she fell in love with their gray color. Also, contemplated buying an iron trellis, but price was $295.

Late in the afternoon, received e-mail from sole fruit of self’s loins, who complained that someone called his newly acquired global phone AT 4 IN THE MORNING, and as a consequence he did poorly in class that day. Self remembers that, the day before, upon receiving an e-mail from son with his global phone number, self did in fact pick up the phone and did in fact try giving son a “test call.” Son did not pick up; instead, a woman speaking Spanish came on, and self was so disoriented that she forgot all her four years of high school Spanish and hung up. This must be the call son is referring to.

Placed a call to Dearest Mum, who inquired why self had to go and send out an e-mail to all the relatives, asking for prayers for Ying so that some higher force (God, Buddha, or whoever) will give sister-in-law the strength to undergo the bone marrow transplant everyone wants her to have. Self informed Dearest Mum that she only sent out a very WEE e-mail, “not even four sentences,” just an update. Dearest Mum then informed self that there was nothing to worry about, she herself called Ying and Ying has agreed to go ahead with the transplant after all. Next week.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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The Latest II

July 3, 2008 at 6:14 pm (Aunts, Calls, Conversations, Quotes, Relatives, Sayings, Tel Aviv)

“She doesn’t have faith. If she believed in God, things would be different.” Read the rest of this entry »

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The Latest

June 30, 2008 at 12:09 am (Food and Drink, Quotes, Relatives, Son, Surprises)
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Dearest Mum asked self to meet her this afternoon in the Stanford Shopping Center. After circling around the parking lots for half an hour, self swore to herself (through gritted teeth): No way am I getting out of here without getting something.

Aunt who was with Dearest Mum informed self that her step-daughter was currently “on shift” at Williams Sonoma, so self headed there. And caught the dear girl (dressed all in black, even down to tights and flats, and sporting a fetching, new “Posh Spice” bob) bending over one of those $200 Calphalon non-stick roasting pans. “Now,” self told her, teasingly, “I would like the most expensive item in the store, at 90% discount.”

“The sale tables are in the back,” the girl said, with not a trace of irony.

Yikes! She must be super-stressed this afternoon!

Pretty soon, Dearest Mum and aunt showed up, and both women professed an urgent need to check out Nordstrom’s. So we walked to the other side of the shopping center, and Dearest Mum was munching on a box of See’s butterscotch squares that aunt had kindly plied her with, and then she started choking. And choking. And choking. And self had a glass of water handy (Good thing aunt had given this to self, just before scooting off somewhere to fetch her hubby), and then Dearest Mum confided that she always has that reaction when she eats butterscotch squares. And then self wondered why aunt, who knows everything about Dearest Mum, keeps plying her with these choke-inducing morsels?

Thankfully, self and Dearest Mum arrived at Nordstrom’s without further incident. It turned out that Dearest Mum was greatly desirous of purchasing the exact same lipstick that self had been wearing last Friday, at the reading of Brian Dempster and Jay Dayrit at the Chinese Cultural Center on Kearney. Self had no idea what lipstick she was wearing, but aunt (who had suddenly popped up, like a veritable Jack-in-the-Box) became adamant that we find the exact same shade, and then Dearest Mum started mushing all sorts of violet and red shades on self’s lips without the benefit of a lip brush or a mirror, and to all the different shades she had the same reaction: No, that’s not the one. Eventually self was able to escape and hie her mangled lips over to a Kleenex box that a kind cosmetics counter girl held out to her. And, my, now she knows that she doesn’t need the Botox to have lips like Angelina Jolie’s, all she needs is a very determined mom and aunt.

After that, it was on to the handbag section. And aunt immediately zoomed in on a woven straw Juicy Couture tote, with leather handles and all sorts of zippers and gew-gaws. And Dearest Mum exclaimed at how cute it was. And self did a desultory pawing of other bags, but she got a heart attack each time she looked at the prices, because even at 50% off, all the bags self looked over were at least $300. And then, a miracle occurred: aunt put down the woven straw bag, and self took a peek inside and saw that it was only $100 on sale. And it was indeed the cutest thing. And she suddenly burst out with: “I’ll take it!” And Dearest Mum and aunt stared at self with purest hate and envy and Dearest Mum said, “Since when have you liked going shopping???”

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

So now, self is home. And her happiness is complete because, right after tossing Juicy Couture tote to the very highest shelf of her closet, she opened her e-mail and found therein a message from sole fruit of her loins, presently cooling his heels in Valladolid, Spain. And here is an exact quote from his e-mail:

MOM!!! It’s insane here! Internet access may be spotty, but it’s working for now.

SPAIN WON EURO 2008! There was massive celebration! Everyone lit a cigarette at the same time to celebrate, it seems. I couldn’t breathe. Also, 65% of Spain is currently drunk.

Gotta run!

And with that, self bids loyal blog readers Good Night.

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Last Night at Lobster Shack

June 29, 2008 at 4:12 pm (Conversations, Food and Drink, Relatives)
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Cousin Jay and his wife Heather joined self, hubby, Dearest Mum, aunt and uncle for dinner at Lobster Shack. Heather, who is a beautiful blonde girl and the savior of not only her husband but of aunt’s entire family, is hugely pregnant. Her baby shower is next week at Il Fornaio in Burlingame, and self has already ordered a stroller shield from Babies R Us.

Jay is aunt’s middle child. He’s working for a start-up. As usual when dining with Dearest Mum, there is no such thing as a simple dinner where people sit down in one place and eat whatever is in front of them. Instead, meals are exceedingly complicated affairs where all kinds of power plays are enacted.

For example:

Dearest Mum must take a bite from everyone’s plate. This is absolutely imperative. Exhibit A: Jay and Heather arrived after the rest of us had finished eating, and ordered for themselves individual cups of clam chowder. When the chowder arrived, Dearest Mum’s eyes lit up: “Can I try?” she asks. And Jay (What a good boy! So expert at reading signals!) surrenders his cup without a murmur, saying only, “You can have it. I’ll share with Heather.”

Dearest Mum must be allowed to order anyone around. For instance, even if self is bending over to take a big bite out of a fried scallop, when Dearest Mum says it is time for her to get up and get water for her cousins, she’d better drop that scallop and hot-foot it to the water table. And so the table is constantly alive with movement, and the waitress’ eyes are spinning, and extra plates must be requested (Dearest Mum: “So we can share”), over and over, until the very end of the meal. And self must not look up, not ever, because she did so once, last night, and saw the entire restaurant staring at the table where sat self, Dearest Mum, hubby (amiably smashed from, oh, four servings of beer: way to go, hubby!), aunt (who protested she could not eat a thing), uncle (who is deaf and who cannot hear a thing, naturally, but persists in engaging in conversation), Jay (wondering why waitress refused to come to our table when he called), and blonde Heather (sweetly smiling, with rather glazed look on her young face).

Anyhoo, the dramatics got self pretty excited, so that she found herself talking and talking and talking. And Jay concurred with self that his mother and self’s mother have the energy of _____ (rampaging elephants?) Even though they are at least two decades older than either of us. And even though self knows full well that aunt and Dearest Mum are truly exhausted, it is imperative that one act as if one is constantly in awe of their tremendous funds of energy. And say such things as: “I don’t know how you do it!” or “I just can’t keep up with you!” And unfortunately, self only realized this recently (or after she was married, at any rate), for when she was growing up in the Philippines, she was buffered from Dearest Mum by the presence of Dad/brothers/sister/maids/drivers and diverse cousins, uncles and aunts, and never had to actually spend more than a few minutes of each day in Dearest Mum’s presence, and so was not subjected to this exhausting one-upmanship which seems to be a trait of Dearest Mum’s family (while Dear Departed Dad’s Bacolod family was completely “laid back” — oh, those lazy Negrenses!)

After dinners like that, self’s nerves go on over-drive and she has to stay up half the night, trying to block out cross-currents of emotion. In the meantime, self surmises that son has left his hotel in Madrid and must now be in Valladolid. Chances are good that she won’t hear from him again until he heads for Paris, a month from now. Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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Running Errands & A Muggy Afternoon in Downtown Palo Alto

June 27, 2008 at 1:08 am (Conversations, Food and Drink, Places, Relatives, Son)
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First self went to the bank and withdrew more cash for son, as she felt he really should not be forced to scrimp and hang out in unsavoury places, all because his parents were too cheap to provide him with a decent travel allowance. Then she went to the pet hospital to pick up humongous bag of prescription dog food ($50). Then she forgot that she had promised to pass by the Hallmark Store on Laurel Street to get son an address book (Self had assured son that, on this trip, he would make “so many friends” and would want to keep in touch with them all). She did remember, though, that she had to make a stop at Kinko’s just before getting home, to xerox her final exam for her class at xxxx community college tomorrow, and to xerox son’s phone card (which she’d just filled with minutes that morning).

Then self remembered that she’d promised to drop son’s spring quarter grades at the friendly State Farm Agent’s office in downtown Palo Alto, which was the other stipulation before son could avail of the “Good Student” discount. And, since son said he wanted a map of Madrid and Paris (two of the places he will be visiting), self suggested that he go with her to downtown Palo Alto so that they could stop by Border’s. And then Dearest Mum called, and when self told her that she and son were going to downtown Palo Alto, Dearest Mum said she would meet them there.

And, no sooner had self and son arrived at Border’s, and started perusing the travel book section, than Dearest Mum showed up, wearing black and white denim jeans, a white linen blouse, and very cool shades. And while self was looking up a biography of Marie Curie on the “Search Books” terminal, she heard a voice asking for David Henry Hwang’s “M. Butterfly.” And she looked up, and there was her student from xxxx community college, Max H. And she asked him why he hadn’t turned in his final paper. And he said he had, he’d left it on the lectern. But self swore the lectern was bare when she left the classroom. So Max said he would e-mail her his paper, “within 30 minutes.” Then self introduced Max to Dearest Mum, and thankfully they did not chat too long.

Then it took son almost an hour to decide on an Eyewitness guidebook to Italy and in addition self purchased for him a small leather notebook, to write down addresses and some such. Then we all wended our way to Gelato Classico on Emerson Street. And Dearest Mum treated us all to gelato, and self had a dee-lish combination of lychee and peanut butter cioccolato (She’ll have to go back soon to have a second go). Across the street, at Aquarius, “The Fall” was showing, and that’s one of the movies self has been curious about.

“That’s what I’m going to do aaaall summer,” self confided to son and Dearest Mum, “Watch movies and eat gelato.”

And, really, that doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend a summer, not bad at all. Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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Early (June) Wednesday Morning Musings

June 25, 2008 at 1:21 pm (Aunts, Food and Drink, Home, Relatives)
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Self thinks it was 11 when she fell asleep last night.

Son had just returned from visiting a friend in Portola Valley and was sitting with hubby on the couch, watching a horror/comedy flick called “Eight-Legged Freaks,” starting David Arquette. Giant spiders were attacking a group of motorcycle-riding teen-agers across a desert.

Dearest Mum had come and gone, leaving wreckage. Thankfully, self was able to cover up most of the signs of the tornado by the time hubby got home (past 9 p.m.): That is, dishes had been cleared and put away, and even the atrocious (overcooked) shrimp & pasta dinner was mercifully concealed in a pot with a lid. And self had already finished small cup of tiramisu & chocolate caramel non-fat yogurt from Yumi Yogurt.

Speaking of which, what is with that place? Last night, line was out the door (a sure sign of summer) even though the weather was cool. And the people in line were: members of the Stanford swimming team (My, those girls are huge! Self came up to just about their chests); a middle-aged grey-haired lady who refused to respond to self’s small talk, who refused to in fact even look in self’s direction; and a slim female giant in a suit with a cast on one leg who Dearest Mum was giving quite the eye-ful, as she maneuvered adroitly and un-aided to her car (in spite of cast), large serving of non-fat yogurt (two flavors: one brown, the other white with blue swirls) held aloft in one hand. Tita squawking as usual (All self’s relatives incapable of being in a public place without calling attention to themselves).

Then, self returned home (while Tita ferried Dearest Mum to her next appointment: a sleep-over with friend in Hillsborough), fell asleep, and now it is 6:20 a.m.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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