Transcript of an Actual Conversation that Took Place in Redwood City this Evening

. . .  between self and one of her brothers in Manila.

Rrrring, rrrring, rrring!

Self:  Hello, nand’yan si Jun?

Maid:  Sandali lang, ho.  Titingnan ko.

Self (humming)

Jun:  Batchoy!

Self:  Jun!

Jun:  What’s up?

Self:  Ahh, ahhh, I thought I’d call since I’ll be there soon . . .

Jun:  You’re coming?  Here?

Self:  Yes.

Jun:  When?

Self:  On January 6.

Jun:  Why didn’t you tell us?

Self:  Ahhh, ahhh, I believe I told Mom.  Last June.  She didn’t tell you?

Jun:  No.

Self:  Ahh, ahhh, well, it’s a good thing I called, then!

Jun:  Why don’t you stay with us in Alabang?

Self:  Well, actually, that’s the reason for my call.  I was talking to Mom yesterday and she said that you and Myla have this vacant apartment next to the Mandarin . . .

Jun:  Unfurnished.

Self:  What?

Jun:  It’s unfurnished.  There isn’t even a bed there.

Self:  Oh.  I.  See.  (Tee-hee!)  That is funny.

Jun:  We were going to have it furnished, but we haven’t started yet.

Self:  Oh, ahhh, ha ha, it’s OK, I will stay with Yoo-Hoo then (Inside:  scream).

After this very illuminating conversation, self scurried to the living room, intent on venting to hubby.  But the Dear Man raised a hand before self could even get out the words:  “Guess what!”

On the flat-screen HDTV, an announcer was saying something very important about THE FUTURE OF FOOTBALL COACH CHARLIE WISE AT NOTRE DAME UNIVERSITY.

Self counted to 10.  Slowly, like so:  One-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, onte-thousand-three (feeling somewhat like River Phoenix in that Indiana Jones installment where he played “young Indie” to Sean Connery’s wise old papa)

To his credit, hubby has had a very stressful day:  this morning he discovered (while self was out doing the groceries) that the reason our house is so cold is that:  OUR FLOOR FURNACE DOES NOT WORK.

Yes indeed, dear blog readers:  this product of Stanford Engineering School actually TOOK A FLASHLIGHT and peered into the depths of the canyon that is our floor heater, and pronounced that there was no pilot light.

And the whole rest of the day, he sat on the couch, lamenting our inability to have the furnace fixed because of lack of funds.  (Self thinks it is genius, absolutely genius that she anticipated this problem by booking a trip to the Philippines in three weeks.  Who knew, dear blog readers, who knew that self had ESP???)  In the meantime, self sat meekly beside hubby, the picture of wifely forebearance, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

4 Comments

  1. Kathleen Burkhalter said,

    December 15, 2008 at 11:48 pm

    I’m glad you are getting your furnace fixed (read the last blog posting).

    This triggered a memory of me calling Bud, who was at my uncle’s house in Greenhills.

    ring-ring-ring (me calling Greenhils)

    voice: Hello?

    Kathleen: Hello, hello? Ito si Mam Kathleen, nan diyan si Sir Bud?

    voice: Teka muna,ho, titingnan ko, sandali.

    swish,swish, swish, (tsinelas going down the hall)

    voice: Sorry po Mam, Natutulog si Sir Bud.

    Kathleen: Sabihin mo sa kaniya na ako ay nasa telepono! Sigue….hihintay ako dito.

    swish, swish swish(tsinelas going down the hall again)

    voice: Tumutuktok ako, mam, pero hindi gumigising. Sorry po mam, tulog si Sir Bud. CLICK!

    My anthro book has an entry: Filipinos are averse to waking people up or passing directly in front.

    Kathleen: (dialing lengthy country codes from a phone card), ring-ring-ring

    voice: Hello?

    Kathleen: Ito si Mam Kathleen. Teka, huwag kayong mag-hangup. Sabihin mo kay Sir Bud ang asawa niya’y tumawag galing sa STATES. OK? Oh sigue, hija, tumotuktok ka naman sa pintuan niya.

    scuffle, scuffle, scuffle..

    Bud: Shug? How are you? What time is it there?

    and that’s how it went in 1995.

  2. December 16, 2008 at 12:42 am

    Ha, ha, ha!

    OK, How ’bout this: I call to get my brother’s cell phone #, and the maid says, “Let me give you the number of his secretary.”

    I felt like telling her, “This is his sister. I’m not going through no secretary!!!”

  3. Kathleen said,

    December 16, 2008 at 1:39 am

    I was hoping to one day be Senora…but the language changed and now everyone is Mam. I like Sir Bud, though…

  4. December 16, 2008 at 3:22 am

    I prefer the Bisaya way of referring to me: “Inday” Batchoy

    I have to agree: “Sir Bud” sounds pretty fine. What I also loved about your piece was the “swish swish swish” of the tsinelas, back and forth.

    By the way, how brave naman of Bud to go to Manila and stay with your uncle without you!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

nancy merrill photography

capturing memories one moment at a time

Asian Cultural Experience

Preserving the history and legacy of Salinas Chinatown

Rantings Of A Third Kind

The Blog about everything and nothing and it's all done in the best possible taste!

Sauce Box

Never get lost in the Sauce

GK Dutta

Be One... Make One...

Cee's Photo Challenges

Teaching the art of composition for photography.

Fashion Not Fear

Fueling fearlessness through style and inspiration.

Wanderlust and Wonderment

My writing and photo journey of inspiration and discovery

transcribingmemory

Decades of her words.

John Oliver Mason

Observations about my life and the world around me.

Insanity at its best!

Yousuf Bawany's Blog

litadoolan

Any old world uncovered by new writing

unbolt me

the literary asylum

the contemporary small press

A site for small presses, writers, poets & readers

The 100 Greatest Books Challenge

A journey from one end of the bookshelf to the other

Random Storyteller

A crazy quilt of poems, stories, and humor

%d bloggers like this: