Quote of the Day: TOWN & COUNTRY, Philippine Edition

When Dearest Mum arrived, she brought for self a few copies of a glossy magazine called Town & Country Philippines. On the covers, beautiful Read the rest of this entry »

Time to Call Dearest Mum!

It’s been a long, long, looong day. Self’s best student ran out of the classroom in tears this morning. Self assigned her to lead a group, and then self assigned the most obstreperous boy in the class to that group. Self thought that she’d be able to handle it, as she’s an older student, very cool and collected. Alas, no. At the sight of her teary face, self felt terrible. She managed to hold the class together, nevertheless. Toward the end, terrible boy and his henchmate began to refer to the whip used by a character in the novel as a phallic symbol. Which wasn’t in the least shocking to self. She gave the boys such a bland smile that they immediately became sour and bad-tempered. And then the class ended and self’s better students grabbed their books and made off as if there was a skunk smell in the classroom. One quiet boy hung back and gave self a clean copy of his last long paper, which self had given an “A.” She’d asked if she could keep a copy, and he remembered. Self told him, “You’re a very good writer.” This boy is a tennis player, and self wonders if he ever knew that he had a gift, a real aptitude for reading literature. He has never missed a day of class, and even though the hooligans sometimes take over (as self is really not the type to scream or shake her metaphorical whip, ha ha ha), he has never shown the least impatience, always keeping his face fastened on self’s. For two hours! What a gem this boy is!

Now, self is home. And she thinks she is in dire need of some comic relief. In the absence of Dear Hubby, Dearest Mum will have to do. Self has been trying not to call her since the elections, since Dearest Mum has expressed many negative opinions of Obama. But now, self’s self-control crumbles. She dials Dearest Mum’s number.

Dearest Mum is at this moment cooling her heels in Las Vegas. Yes, dear blog readers: last week she was in New York (“I followed your recommendation and saw A Man for all Seasons! Frank Langella was great! I saw it on Halloween! And when I came out of the theatre, on Times Square, everyone was in costume!”), and now she is in Las Vegas. She is staying with a good friend, who self knows as Tita M, and they are playing the piano all day (Tita M is part of Dearest Mum’s piano playing group, who go by the name “The Ivory Mafia.” Yes, indeed-y, dear blog readers, when Dearest Mum gave a concert in Japantown, several years ago, then-Mayor of San Francisco Willie Brown declared that day “Ivory Mafia Day.” And Dearest Mum even has a certificate to prove it!). Tomorrow, Tita M is taking Dearest Mum to a Japanese restaurant in Bellagio (If only Tita M knew how much Dearest Mum secretly abhors Japanese food!).

“She also wants to take me to Spamma,” Dearest Mum declares.

“Spama? What’s that?” self says.

“It’s Supammmma,” Dearest Mum says.

“I don’t know Supammma, I’m sorry,” self says.

“It’s a musical,” Dearest Mum declares.

“Showing there. In Las Vegas,” self says, carefully.

“Yes, and it’s called mmum, ammmum, something like that.”

Self has the awful feeling Dearest Mum is refering to “Spamalot.” But she bites her tongue.

“Only, it’s too cold!” Dearest Mum says. “I’d rather stay home the whole day.”

Hmmm . . .

Self winds up by asking whether Tita M is very depressed about the Obama win. Tita M campaigned strenuously for McCain. Dearest Mum wonders why self is so taken with “that man” (O, who else?) Dearest Mum says he can’t be trusted. (“The same way niece G’s BF can’t be trusted?” self wants to pipe up)

Anyhoo, Dearest Mum sends self packing, after such a question. Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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