Cessna In Flight

I’m taking a coffee break right now. I just finished frosting a carrot cake and I’m waiting for it to set in the fridge. It’s for the New Year’s Eve feast we’ll have in a few hours. And it’s my very first time to make a cake. I usually prepare food that I can cook without a recipe during the holidays. But I’m feeling pretty confident I’ll do fairly well with this one, so my first ever carrot cake it is.

In my mind is Bo Sanchez’ Soulfood newsletter which I got in the email the other day. He wrote of the tendency of human beings to look at what is wrong, not what is right. This is illustrated by Darren Hardy, who says traffic builds up when there is a car accident because of the “uzi’s” or people who stop to look at the wreckage. But no one stops to look at a magnificent sunrise.

People are drawn to messes, not magnificence, Bo writes.

As 2011 draws to a close,  I will take this coffee break as a chance to thank my lucky stars for  the magnificent blessings that surround me.

My magnificent husband. My magnificent children. My magnificent parents, siblings and in-laws. The magnificent love that binds us all.

My magnificent friends, both old and new.

The magnificent events that made me grow, made me see the world differently – that the world is more beautiful and more exciting than I have ever known.

The magnificent experiences that made me see that I am magnificent too.

Sigh. I love my magnificent life.

Happy magnificent new year to us all!

No, this entry is not an analysis of which of the two tv series is better.

I am an unabashed Walking Dead fan and I have never seen an episode of American Horror Story. My friend, Lynn, said I should watch it. I then told my husband, who immediately downloaded all the episodes. He enjoyed it so much, much much more than WD and is encouraging me to watch AHS with him.

What is it about? I asked. It’s like Paranormal Activity, he said. In that case I’m not watching, I said. So there he is, glued in front of the tv, doing yet another AHS marathon. Me, I’m in the bedroom with the door closed to block all sound from the tv.

I’m not really a fan of horror movies or tv shows. They show up in my dreams you see. Not to mention that I get scared to get up from the bed to go the bathroom in the middle of the night.

But a zombie show, I can manage. I may let out a scream like I’m being dropped off from the top of the roller coaster, but the scenes don’t get in my head. Because I know that zombies are not real. Whoever has actually seen or heard of a dead person rise from the grave and start eating humans for breakfast?

But ghost stories, ah. That flickering light. That shadow on the wall when you’re the only one in the room. A whisper no one else hears. A figure from behind the curtain. These things happen in real life. Or at least we know someone who knows someone who experienced these things in real life. Real people talk about the occurrence of these things on tv every year before the first of November. A favorite priest of mine talked about a house filled with “restless souls” in a sermon one Sunday. These stories are real. They can be real.

So that is why I am never going to watch American Horror Story. I’m too chicken. I will not be able to sleep because I can’t help but think that the things I saw on tv could happen to me, then I’ll fall sleep and dream that it’s already happening to me.

My mother-in-law passed away in her sleep last week. In the middle of the arrangements for the wake and  interment, one of the relatives mentioned a eulogy. My husband wanted to, asked me to write it for him. Minutes before the mass, I made an outline. My husband saw me writing furiously and thought I should speak. I was afraid at first, but I just felt I had to. There was a compelling urge in my heart. I MUST deliver a eulogy.

Unfortunately, I was overwhelmed with grief. I think I spent quite a long time in front of family and friends blurting out a hodgepodge of words with no meaning. I wasn’t able to say many more things in my head. Which I must share. Now that I’m seated comfortably in front of my ol’ friend, the computer, allow me to take this chance to post this edited eulogy.

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When my youngest son got sick, Mama gave me a photocopied picture of Jesus the Healer. She instructed me to put it on his chest daily. I could not understand how could a photo, and a photocopied one at that, could cure my sick son, but I did it. Soon, he was in the pink of health. Maybe it was the photo. Credit should, of course, be given to science. But I also knew he got well because that photo wasn’t just a photo. It represented Mama in her room, praying the novena every day and every night for my son. Continue reading “Eulogy (Edited)” »

I know my happy hour is over when..

– I remember my chores, and I am actually excited about doing them.
– I remember my deadlines, and I have new ideas.
– I miss my husband.
– I miss the kids so badly.
– My mind and my heart have had enough of solitude, and I yearn to go back in the middle of chores, deadlines, the husband and kids.

Right now, I am here in a coffee shop all by my lonesome. My two older kids are in school, I left the youngest with my mom, and my husband just left to see a client. “Wouldn’t you be bored?” he asked.

Bored? I needed this hour.

Working people need coffee breaks and snack breaks and to get off from their jobs at 5 and to take VLs. I love my home and my family like you have no idea. But in a way, loving them means work. And I am at work 24/7 – Bunso sleeps beside me, and sometimes Ate and Kuya as well, so I’m at work even in slumber, because in the middle of the night I put arms and legs away from torsos and faces.

Don’t get me wrong – I love this job. It’s a crazy job and I don’t have a name for it – stay-at-home mom no longer fits and work-at-home mom fails to capture everything – and I love it. But yes, I admit I could use a break too.

I need it. I think the last time I had it was last September – and it wasn’t even planned. I had to attend a workshop so I had to spend lunch hour alone.

This is my first time in a very long time to seek an hour just for me. My notebook, my pen, my laptop, a hot cup of coffee and me.

For one hour, there will be no thought of chores. No grocery list to plan. No school projects to make. No crying baby to soothe. No quarrels to referee. No article to write. No proposal to draft. No business plans.

For one hour, I will play. Blog. Read horoscopes. Read jokes. Write meaningless thoughts. Watch people. Daydream. Remember. Imagine.