Mother of All Headaches II

Cuello de Gimpy, Cuello de Gimpy, Cuello de Gimpy.

Got that?

Today, neck is woeful sore. This morning self decided, in fit of magnanimity, to pick up stalled investigation into fraudulent charges on Dearest Mum’s bank account. Even though she knows that in doing so she is entering a bottomless pit of confusion that will never ever ever end, will probably still be coming back to haunt self a decade hence.

That is, self decided to attempt once again to access said account so that she could obtain Holy Grail of claim form for Dearest Mum, which has not been forthcoming because every time self goes to Bank of America branch, or attempts to call 800 number, account has been flagged, all sorts of alarm bells go off, security officer comes online, asks for self’s social security number, or Dearest Mum’s social security number, and says there is “no match.” End of story.

So, Bank of America keeps sending letters, requests, demands for payment on thousands of dollars worth of purchases to Landmark and Rustan’s Supermarket. And Dearest Mum in the Philippines just keeps ignoring same because, after all, anyone can see they are not hers, and when self makes one last attempt this morning, she provides Dearest Mum’s social security number, and that seems to go well — that is, self is permitted to next level on menu. But then self is asked for Dearest Mum’s ATM number, and right after self has provided it, just as self puts away paper with number, deep male voice intones: Once again.

So self has to scramble to retrieve paper (ominous silence on other end of the line) And this time, on the repeat, she stumbles, and account is closed again. Sorry, no access.

So self, in some desperation, calls B of A Customer Service and explains the whole situation, for the nth time. And the Customer Service Rep is indeed very sympathetic. But she requests “verbal verification.” And self is so confused, she says, “What is that?”

“For security purposes, verbal verification is required.”

Now, if Customer Service Rep had simply up and asked self a question, self would have been very happy to comply. But rep seems to think self has to come up with her own question (so this is something like Jeopardy?)

So self rather nervously provides her own social security number, her own date of birth, her own address, and everything is wrong of course, even though yes, self is on the account. And then self thinks: Wait a minute, I don’t want my social security #, or my address, or anything else about me to be linked to this account, which has obviously been ransacked by clever impostor, and Customer Service Rep keeps saying, just go in, just go in, just go in, request a W-9 to confirm your social security number, and self tells her I have gone in, but the branch manager keeps saying they have no forms there, and everything must be done on-line, and . . .

Wait a minute, why am I doing this again???

OK, self takes out her little tea candle kit. And opens a bottle labeled Le Fragrance d’Ambiante (Pomegranate & Currant). Because fragrance is serenity. Isn’t it? Isn’t it?

The Sixteenth Most Gorgeous Day So Far This Year

Oh, God, dear blog reader, do you realize the year is half over, and self has done nothing substantive? For her career?

Of course, in the past five or so months, self has avoided doing the following:

catching a cold, in spite of weird spring/early summer weather (Exhibit A: blustery winds yesterday knocked down Climbing New Dawn trellis, not once, but three times)

getting pickpocketed (has happened to self once or twice: the worst was at Denver Airport, when son was one, and having to retrace steps while lugging around screaming 1-year-old is still self’s idea of “worst nightmare”)

putting her foot in her mouth

having herself photographed in embarrassing pose (such as, mouth wide open; or chin photographed from below)

Today, self arrived home from xxxxx community college and realized she was wearing only one earring. This pair came from New Year’s Eve, 2001. Self, hubby, son, and dear departed sister’s three children were ensconced in suite at newly opened Venetian in Las Vegas. To commemmorate spending New Year’s together, self and niece bought matching earrings from Venice glass store in Venetian lobby. Niece lost her pair years ago. But self has managed to hang on to hers — that is, until this morning.

Where could it have fallen? Not while she was teaching: earrings tend to dislodge when self is seated, because she has very bad habit of hunching up her shoulders, especially when she is at computer or at a desk. So, must have fallen afterwards, when she was in the Language Arts Office. Or when she was seated on concrete steps, having a meeting with a student.

But, in spite of that, self still thinks the day is gorgeous. So, yes, she will go ahead and call today the sixteenth most gorgeous day so far this year.

Hubby is in Sacramento with nice boss Suresh, looking at labs. It is a trip he has been dreading all last weekend. He had to go in to work on both Saturday and Sunday, and we barely managed to squeeze in watching Knocked Up (very funny, but looong, over two hours!!) Friend Sweetpea — oops, self meant “Sandy” — is coming over in a few hours, to have dinner. If the mood strikes us, we may go see a movie. Or maybe we can settle for dessert — yummy bread pudding at A Tavola, or that Middle Eastern restaurant on Broadway, Mandaloun, or the Thai restaurant, Erawan. Or self could go to San Carlos, get slices of cake from Vivaldi’s/Chocolate Mousse. Or we could go to Dairy Queen or Yumi Yogurt.

In the meantime, have nearly finished commenting on UCLA Extension students’ pieces, will duck into the garden for quick check of plants. Only three more weeks of teaching, hurrah!!!

Protected: Student Responds to Washington Post Article on “Illegal Immigrants’ Cost to Government”

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Questions My Students Asked Yesterday, in English 1C

* Why are there not more murders in the agricultural fields? What do you mean by murders, self asked. You mean, why are not more illegal immigrants killing each other?

* Is life here really so much better than life in Mexico? If the migrant laborers can’t even make minimum wage, why do they still come?

* Why should we care about illegal immigrants when we have more important things to think about, like the War in Iraq?

* (In answer to my question whether they were aware that there was a humanitarian crisis in Darfur) The question isn’t simply whether we care or not: it’s more, do we care enough to do anything?

* Why does this author (Ruben Martinez) go on and on about a bunch of Mexicans who get killed in a truck accident? It’s so boring!

* Is the wall (planned for the U.S. – Mexico border) really going to stop people from coming, or is it just a symbolic gesture?

* What happens if there’s a draft?

* What happens if we pull out of Iraq right now?

* Won’t there be civil war if we pull out of Iraq right now?

* Why don’t you teach Less Than Zero or American Psycho instead of American Son?

* Why don’t you teach us more about stylistics?

* Why do you teach us books that make us feel like racists when, you know, we’re not racists?

* What’s the quiz on Wednesday going to be about?

Strange But True VI, or: Self Being Silly Again

Driving to 8 AM class at xxxx community college, heard over KBLX that Eva Longoria and Tony Parker have set a wedding date. Fab event will be taking place in Paris, and wedding cake — which purportedly will cost $15,000 — is being flown in on its own first-class seat. (Radio announcer voices semi-rhetorical question : “What’s in a $15,000 cake?” Deadpan response from female co-announcer: “Eggs”)

When asked class for first responses to new reading, Prologue to Ruben Martinez‘s Crossing Over: A Mexican Family on the Migrant Trail, Miss Bangkok is first to raise her hand, voices the opinion that the author is “absurdly sentimental.” Self asks if anyone agrees, majority of the class raises their hands. “Who cares about a bunch of Mexican immigrants?” says Ashley G.

Self decided to calm herself after class with slice of “Old-Fashioned Chocolate Cake” from Whole Foods Market — terrible, tasteless, yuccch.

Upon arriving home, self discovers that quite a few people are finding her blog by googling “Aimee N”. Self also decides to google “Aimee N”, finds that second listing is on Wikipedia. Goes to Wikipedia, reads this:

Aimee Nezhukumatathil (b. 1974 in Chicago, Illinois) is a popular Asian-American poet, best known for her jovial and accessible reading style and lush descriptions of exotic foods and landscapes. Nezhukumatathil regularly draws upon her Filipino and Keralan background to give a unique perspective on love and loss, and of course, the land. She is the author of the poetry collection, Miracle Fruit (2003, winner of the Tupelo Press Prize). Miracle Fruit was also named ForeWord Magazine‘s Book of the Year in poetry, co-winner of the Global Filipino Literary Award, and finalist for the Asian American Literary Award and the Glasgow Prize from Shenandoah magazine. She is assistant professor of English at State University of New York at Fredonia.

Self tries looking up Barbara Jane Reyes (still on Wikipedia), finds this:

Barbara Jane Reyes is an American poet.

She was born in Manila, Philippines and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area. She received her undergraduate education at UC Berkeley, and her MFA at San Francisco State University. She is the author of Gravities of Center (Arkipelago, 2003) and Poeta en San Francisco (Tinfish, 2005), for which she received the James Laughlin Award of the Academy of American Poets.

Reyes is a recent Pushcart Prize nominee, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous publications, including 2nd Avenue Poetry, Asian Pacific American Journal, Boxcar Poetry Review, Chain, Crate, Interlope, New American Writing, Nocturnes Review, North American Review, Notre Dame Review, Parthenon West Review, Shampoo Poetry, Tinfish, Versal, as well as in the anthologies Babaylan (Aunt Lute, 2000), Eros Pinoy (Anvil, 2001), InvAsian: Asian Sisters Represent (Study Center Press, 2003), Going Home to a Landscape (Calyx, 2003), Coloring Book (Rattlecat, 2003), Not Home But Here (Anvil, 2003), Pinoy Poetics (Meritage, 2004), Asian Americans in the San Francisco Bay Area (Avalon Publishing, 2004), 100 Love Poems: Philippine Love Poetry Since 1905 (University of the Philippines Press, 2004), The Lambda Award finalist Red Light: Superheroes, Saints and Sluts (Arsenal Pulp, 2005), Graphic Poetry (Victionary, 2005), The First Hay(na)ku Anthology (Meritage, 2005).

She is a Visiting Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at Mills College, and she lives with her husband, the poet Oscar Bermeo, in Oakland, CA.

Hmmm, not bad! self thinks.

Are you thinking what self is thinking, dear blog reader? Or are you perhaps thinking, NO, M! DON’T EVEN GO THERE!

But, since self is all by her lonesome in house, self does indeed GO THERE, decides to look herself up on Wikipedia, and comes up with the following:

Gulong ng Palad (Relevance: 5.2%)

For those of you “not in the know”, Gulong ng Palad is a Philippine soap, somewhat akin to General Hospital. Self wonders if this means that there is an actress in the Philippines with self’s same name.

German Figure Skating Championships (Relevance: 3.0%)

Perhaps there is a German figure skating champ with first name “Marianne”.

The Dinner Party (Relevance: 2.6%)

If this is the Harold Pinter play of the same name, then there must be a character in it named “Marianne” (Oops! My bad: looked up “The Dinner Party” in Wikipedia: it refers to grounbreaking conceptual art piece by “feminist” artist Judy Chicago! Hear, hear for groundbreaking women artists! Entry is scandalously long, with name of every famous woman known to man since the dawn of time, and self went feverishly down the list, hoping to find — what? What were you expecting, self, you silly twit? Needless to say, found some “Marianne” names, but no one with self’s last name)

Mga Kuwento ni Lola Basyang (Relevance: 2.6%)

Folk tales from the Philippines, featuring much beloved “Lola”/Grandmother Basyang (Perhaps the translation is by someone “Villanueva”)

List of female composers (Relevance: 2.5%)

Perhaps there is a composer named “Marianne.”

And, last but not least: List of Guggenheim Fellowships awarded in 1981 (Relevance: 2.1%)

Cruel, cruel Wikipedia, self indeed has applied for said fellowship in the past, but as far as self knows she has yet to go beyond first round, this must be reference to other “Marianne” author, perhaps Marianne Wiggins.

Protected: Oh, Son . . .

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Saturday, Still 2nd of June

Had breakfast at Breaker’s: for self, 1/2 of eggs benedict and a side bowl of fruit; for hubby, Italian sausage and scrambled eggs with four pieces of white toast. Very high cholesterol-y all around. Owner of Breaker’s was at cash register while her college-age daughter helped with the waitressing. Noticed for the first time that the huge mural on one wall has the following images: Ulysses S. Grant; six eggs; a redwood forest; mountains; roses; and a lily. Why all of these should have been combined in one painting is a mystery.

Also, when we are almost through with our meal, in walks a woman who looks vaguely familiar. Have to do double-take, but confirm that it is indeed a mother from son’s elementary school days, Connie D. Had not seen her in years. She was with an older gentleman, and when she passed by our table, self called out to her. Yes! It really was Connie D., and her son graduated from Chico State, while her daughter’s a freshman at Sonoma State. And, she said, flashing a diamond ring, she’s engaged (was single mom for a couple of years: self still remembers her first husband, a good-looking Asian man who mysteriously disappeared from all social events when her children and my son were in middle school). After she returns to her table, husband remarks that she now has double chin. Self informs hubby that everyone has double chins after a certain age. Hubby asks self to tell him if he has double chin. Self looks: nope. But of course self asserts that he does. At which point, hubby looks very disconcerted. Self says she doesn’t know why it should be such a big deal: after all, she herself has double chins. Hubby asserts that his mom, who is 79, doesn’t have a double chin. Self knows this is true. Hubby then follows up by saying that self’s Dearest Mum also doesn’t have double chins. Self responds: “That is because Dearest Mum has the wherewithal to — “, at which point, stop short, decide not to finish the sentence.

Now we are at home. Self forgot to mention that on the way to Breaker’s, saw that a neighbor who lives around the corner, who has an exceedingly nice front garden, was having a garage sale. Pull over! self screams to hubby, and even before car has come to a full stop, self is out the door. Now is self’s chance to go behind neighbor’s fence and look at what other plants she has growing. There are rows of roses, and thyme and rosemary bushes. And silvery-leafed artemisia. Neighbor is selling cuttings of crysanthemums and gaura lindheimeri, which self buys of course, and also finds a papier-mache footstool in the shape of a cat, which she also buys. And now that self is home with all her purchases, finds that the cat footstool looks great in living room, as we already have a wooden duck there, and a grey wooden cat. Now the living room theme is beginning to take shape: the theme is animals. As, self’s eye is drawn to painted Chinese screen, and now sees that the animals depicted thereon are pheasants. And on Chinese painting above piano is a little bird. Why did self not pick up on theme before? Why is everything suddenly so clear after purchase of $7 paper maché footstool? Mystery upon mystery.

So, now self is trying to decide what she will cook for dinner, and she’s reading a poem called “Stew”, and it goes like this:

1 Tbsp olive oil : Spill of sun from long ago. Stubby olive groves. Aromatic enticement. “Come in,” you trill, but he is nowhere near this home.

1 lg onion, sliced : The sous chef does not cry. Defective lachrymal ducts? A hundred onions. Wild ones on mountain trails — Little Pete’s Meadow where you thought you might sleep.

1 pepper, deseeded: Decapitate. Rinse away the flea egg seeds. The cat escaped the open window.

At which point, self realizes that the poem is indeed very long, and if she is going to type in the whole thing, will probably take at least half an hour, and day is too exceedingly nice, besides which there are all those plants self purchased from neighbor, waiting to be put in the ground. So, will resume poem later, perhaps around dinnertime, so that it can inspire self to new heights of culinary invention 🙂

Strange But True V

OK, self was bored. While visiting son last weekend, learned that son’s laptop was not actually * in his possession *, was in fact in possession of friend living in a place called Mustang Village (Cal Poly just loves horses, as teams are named mustang, bookstore is named El Corral, etc. etc.) So, this evening, upon prodding from dear hubby, sent e-mail to son demanding he retrieve laptop from friend in Mustang Village, FORTHWITH. Was not actually expecting immediate reply, but did check after half an hour: nope, nada (Sincerely hope son is studying — ??? Self also sincerely hopes son has not * yet * lent anyone his $169 Ray-Bans?).

While trapped in this state of uncertainty and anxiety over son’s rather lackadaisical attitude to expensive possessions, decided to amuse self by looking up ranking of latest book on Amazon.com (Self should have consulted horoscope first. But, why? Self would only have been told: “Today you will gain someone’s respect.” Which would not have stopped self from looking up ranking on Amazon. Horoscope should have said: Today is a day for careful evaluation, not hasty decisions. That sort of horoscope would certainly have gotten her attention. But, I digress)

Well, this evening, self has discovered that there is actually something worse than ranking of 1, 675,321, which was self’s ranking six months ago. Yes, if only self had not looked a gift horse in the mouth. Because today, self has made the rather disconcerting discovery that there is no end to the bottomless pit that is the Amazon rankings. For today, Wednesday, 30 May, ranking of beloved Mayor of the Roses is: #4,072,854

Dismay! Anguish! Bewilderment!

But, must desist from downing recently purchased quart of Coconut Sorbet. Must remember that this is still better than ranking of 8,075,621, which undoubtedly exists (Only where? Self has never seen any ranking even approach 2,000,000 — not, that is, until looking at self’s ranking this evening.)

Self, stop being so pathetic! This is only what you deserve! You write depressing stories and expect people to read them? Did not that learned professor write in The Multicultural Review that your stories were “depressing” and “sardonic”? (“Sardonic” is not so bad. And self cannot argue with the “depressing”) Looked him up on google and he was a rather aged gent, so perhaps this was a generational misunderstanding?

Self, stop it right this minute! As if gnashing of teeth can do anything to elevate self’s ranking on Amazon.com! Better to do as Sage Master Shih Cheng-Yen states, in Still Thought # 89:

Our hearts have three poisons: greed, anger, and ignorance. In giving we heal greed, with compassion we appease anger, and with wisdom we overcome ignorance.

Stay tuned, dear blog reader, stay tuned.

Sunday, 27 May: San Luis Obispo

Oh loyal blog readers, self made it safely to San Luis Obispo this morning, in spite of having gotten only a few hours of sleep and woken up with tremendous eyebags (perhaps this is a sign of age, and not a sign of lack of sleep — !!)

Self drove most of the way, until almost to Paso Robles, when told hubby self’s eyes were clooosing and there was distinct possibility we might crash. After much grumbling, hubby took over.

Hubby and self puzzled that, after arriving at son’s dorm, he kept us waiting for half an hour, though we’d been calling him all morning to give him regular reports on our progress. Only a scant hour or so ago (after spending almost the whole day together), son confessed that he had actually not slept a wink the whole night before, having been in a poker tournament in Solvang (!!@@) He said he had not meant to stay there all night, but friend had kept winning and winning and winning, and son, being most considerate, was reluctant to deprive friend of opportunity to win more and more. Then, friend began to lose, at which point it became impossible to extricate him from table, son ended up sleeping 30 minutes in car at 6:30 AM.

Now, we must really RUSH BACK to the Bay Area to feed little crits, Gracie probably consuming all the ka-ka in sight.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Memorial Day Weekend Status Report

Today was incredible, dear blog readers.

Did the following in-CRE-dible things:

(1) Found apartment for rent for $400/ month, in MENLO PARK, for daughter of Dearest Mum’s cousin from LA, who has summer internship in Lockheed.

(2) Found out that self is actually related to hubby– like, he’s from the illegitimate branch of the Hontiveros clan (Which interesting information he learned only this evening, after placing long-distance phone call to HIS mum, who told him with air of great authority that his great-great-great-grandpa was a priest. At least, self thinks this is what she heard mother-in-law yelling to hubby over the phone) and self’s Dearest Mum is first cousins to the Hontiveros. So — you see? — with the incredible intuition of a homing pigeon, self somehow engineered it so that she bumped into third cousin at Stanford and married him. Imagine that! And our progeny, the result of semi-incestuous (or are third cousins exempt?) union is smart son, who started with Chemisty and then moved to Biochemistry and then moved to Psychology and finally is now into Veterinary Science, all in the space of two years.

Oh, and did self also mention that she and hubby are going to San Luis Obispo tomorrow? Just for the day because hubby, in spite of earning now more than he ever has, thinks we cannot afford the SLO Motel 8? So, at 10:45 PM this evening, self found herself driving from SFO in huge Grand Prix (only car left in Alamo that was not an SUV). Head barely made it over steering wheel, and since self is as cheap as hubby and opted not to pay the $14/day insurance, was panicky, had second thoughts, but was already on 101 so, too late! Had to keep going, and suddenly landed in pockets of traffic, pockets of traffic, pockets of traffic, which — it’s just amazing, since it was 10:45 PM on a Saturday night in the middle of Memorial Day weekend, and self thought everyone else had gone out of town, to Vegas or Tahoe or wherever? — OK, where was I?

Oh, and self also attended funeral service for dear Mr. King, who hosted her when she was green green foreign student at Stanford, and there she found out that Mr. King was 87 years old, that he and his wife (married over 60 years), had known each other since they were five. And all his children said he was the kindest man on earth.

And then self came home and watered 8 buckets, and pounded some more nails into fence to support clematis henryii (and scampered away each time self heard neighbor — not Claudio, the neighbor on the other side — come out to the backyard, as would hate to explain that self was pounding very long nails into the fence because those were the only nails she found in the garage, and self knows the nails are probably sticking out the other side, the side facing the neighbor’s yard, and maybe one of their kids will accidentally bump into the fence and get punctured on a nail and get tetanus and then, and then — But, once again, I digress. Good heavens, does self have ADD or what???)

Now, self really must get some shut-eye. But not before she has clicked on a “referrer” from her blog stats and found this post (“The Ninth Most Gorgeous Day”) beginning like this: Brrr, brrr, brrr. Viento tieso. Cuello de Gimpy.

Ha, ha, ha, ha! Cuello de Gimpy, Cuello de Gimpy, Cuello de Gimpy. Priceless.