Another tick on the calendar

Two years and counting! Yay! Make that three. I have to explain to everybody who sent greetings that we’re actually celebrating our second wedding anniversary and third as bf/gf. Yep, both fall on the same date. We were walking down the aisle as we celebrated our first year of being together. Been two years since we said our I do’s.

With all the madness going around our workplace, we almost didn’t get to celebrate at all. We weren’t actually planning on anything since we’re saving up for our upcoming trip to Hongkong later this weekend. But the hubby surprised me with gifts two days in a row. *blush*. So now, I’m pressured because I haven’t gotten him anything. And with my crazy schedule, I can’t steal away a few hours to go somewhere to buy something decent. I’m lucky if I could sit on my desk for an hour with all the meetings I have to attend and prepare for. And I have to go away for two days for a planning workshop out of town. Goodness! Thank God for the few minutes that I could squeeze in this post at lunch today.

Anyway, we stole away a very simple dinner last night to cap the day off. It was nothing fancy like we hoped for but we loved it anyway. It was good to just sit together without worrying about anything. We’re just going to have a blast in HK.

Happy Birthday, Yaya!

Mischa’s Yaya Vinvin turned 21 last weekend. While we didn’t actually threw a party for her, I cooked a somewhat special though simple lunch for her. I know that she must sometimes feel lonely being so far away from her family, and has only us, as her family here. I’m not the ma-chika type of employer. I don’t really have the charm or disposition to “pry” into her life. I haven’t scolded her ever either despite her mini transgressions. So anyway, my folks came over so she would have visitors and we gave the neighbors food to celebrate with her.

We had these (from L-R: Rosemary chicken, Pork with cauliflower, Spaghetti Bolognese):

When she blew the candle on her cake, I said she could wish for anything. Except for a boyfriend, until her ward turns 10, that is. lol.

Animehinasyong Pasko

I just realized I didn’t have any blog posts about the Christmas parties we had last December. Anyway, huli man daw at magaling, naihahabol pa rin. (I wonder if this is right.)

The theme at our annual office party this year was Animehinasyong Pasko. Basically, well, it centers around…anime. Each of our division should have a presentation of some sort, and we should dress up as anime characters. I never thought I would ever say this, but I said to the organizers that I was too old for this. Hahaha. Well, in that sense I am. I cannot imagine myself dressing up like that to save my skin. Besides, I wouldn’t know the latest in anime. I’m stuck in the era of Lupin, Ghost Fighter, etc. who were popular in the 90s. So I just had fun watching the ‘younger’ ones do it.

For the raffle this year, I got lucky again enough to land myself a Samsonite laptop bag. Hooray! In the previous years, I won a television set and a microwave oven.

Mr. Kurosawa

Over the weekend, we celebrated my parents’ 39th wedding anniversary. There was no big fuss actually. As always, the grannies are content with whatever activity we will do so long as the baby was there. Maybe next year, we can try something big for the Ruby anniversary. Anyhow, we are gearing up for our Hongkong trip later this month anyway.

We all met at Eastwood Mall, and picked Mr. Kurosawa to have our celebratory meal. Now, I am no connoisseur but I know good food and a good meal when I have one. Mr. Kurosawa definitely perked up my interest and appetite. When I came back from Canada for a very brief trip, I thought that I was going to swear off Japanese food for a while. I still don’t know why most of our hosts gorged us with Japanese food for the duration of our stay.

Anyway, Mr. Kurosawa, located at the ground floor of Eastwood Mall, is Euro-Japanese. We initially went to Mr. Choi, a newly-opened Chinese restaurant, but alas, they have no high chairs for babies/toddlers so scratch that. We found ourselves then at a nice, cozy corner table at Mr. Kurosawa. Me likey the contrast of the dim interiors with the bright panels on the ceiling and walls.

The food was just absolutely delish! To say we were sated would be an understatement. We walked out the resto indecently blissful and contented. Pano ba naman, for five adults, we ordered the following:

  • Oyster Overload
  • Tempura Fondue
  • Assorted Sashimi
  • Ebi Fry Pesto
  • Beef Teppan
  • Tofu Steak
  • Salmon Teriyaki
  • Crabsticks wrapped in Bacon
  • Garlic and Mushroom Rice
  • Scallop Rice

Even the little one feasted on the rice.  Kanin pa lang, ulam na.  lol.  Too bad we didn’t get to take photos of all the food.  Gluttony took over the need for posterity.

Looks good, right? They taste good, too. Not bland, nor overly tasty. Thumbs up!

A parent’s sacrifice

I got deeply disturbed by a very short film shown today during our regular flag ceremony at work. It was about a father who worked at a railroad company, and his son. The son adores trains, and regularly plays on the railroad tracks. The scene began like any other day. The father can be seen working the controls at a small office, and the boy was scurrying over a stream. Somebody calls the office, and the father could be heard saying “Yes I can see the boat”. Apparently, there was a bridge that could be pulled up to separate a portion of the tracks since that part runs over a river, where water vehicles can pass through. The father didn’t immediately notice that a train was coming but the son did. He was shouting at his father, who didn’t hear him, that a train was indeed coming. At this point in the film, it alternately showed that the boat was slowly cruising, the train was fast approaching, and the father beginning to panic because he could not see his son where he was playing moments ago. The film also showed the host of passengers that the train was currently carrying. There were angry people, sad people, hurting people, etc.

And then the father saw the son. The son immediately realized that those onboard would be killed because the bridge was still up. Since his father didn’t catch his attention, his very young mind (I surmise he is about 4-6 years old) made him make his way to levers on the train tracks to manually operate them. And then he slid.

The father saw all of these. He was in a blind panic by now. There was pure anguish on his face as the situation tore him whether to let down the bridge to save the train but, which in turn, would crush his trapped son alive. The moments seemed endless, while the screen continued to flash words like “would you sacrifice many lives for the one that matters to you most?” (or something like that).

I felt like weeping by then.

At the last second, he pulled the lever down. The train and its passengers were saved.

The last few scenes showed him agonizing over his dead son’s body. The ultimate sacrifice. And then John 3:16’s passage: For God so loved the world, He gave us His only Son”. I am born a Catholic and raised to believe in this.

But I am also a mother. I questioned myself after watching it. And I got the same answer over and over. I am selfish. I could not do that. My daughter means the world to me. I would not even blink, I would save her in a heartbeat.

The heiress has come home

Our trip to hubby’s hometown was the farthest that Mischa has ever been to. The whole trip was fun, warm and full of family love. The grandparents were happy that we managed to celebrate the New Year with them. I know that my own parents were a bit sad with their unica hija very far from them as we ushered in the new year, but this is just the way it is. Mischa also needs to be with her other family.

My daughter, on the other hand, was just plain ecstatic being around her cousins, and running around the family compound. The fresh air and cool climate did her a lot of good. She absolutely loved it there! Her Yaya Vinvin, who is also from their town, came over, and took care of running after her while I cooked the New Year feast. I got really embarrassed everytime Mischa wouldn’t go to her Papa Old (grandpa) or her uncle. Although I know, of course, that she doesn’t take to males easily, I still cringe when I see her do her suplada thing. They might think I don’t teach her enough manners. But what can I do? It’s really her personality.

four of the ten grandchildren with my sister-in-law

Mischa giggling in delight as the brothers horse around

At the strike of midnight, we were all out watching the fireworks, which hubby was “operating”. The night air was cold, I tell you! Here are a couple of photos. We didn’t get to take much because Mischa was clinging to me, and hubby was doing the lighting ’em up.

All in all, it was such a great way to welcome a new year. This is also my first time to celebrate with a big family when it was usually just me, my parents and brother. And for the life of me, my mom is just so freaked out by firecrackers, or even those harmless fountains. I know, it was a “sad” and “quiet” event for all of my 28 years at the family home. I only got to enjoy them fireworks when I began living with hubby. Teehee.

With Papa Old and Mama Old

Our simple feast

First plane ride

At eighteen months, I got to have my first plane ride going to Dad’s hometown in the town of Peñablanca, home to the famous Callao Caves, which is often thought to be part of Tuguegarao City.  I think Mom was more excited than I am because I was clueless about what was happening.  All I knew was, I was pretty amazed at the new NAIA 3 and its quite impeccable surroundings.  I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been to other airports although the others are supposed to be dingy and outdated according to the grapevine.  Although I was also excited, since the whole experience was fairly new to me, I got a little clingy to Mommy, much to her chagrin.  I didn’t even want to be carried by Dad.  And I absolutely refused to walk!  What if I get lost?  What if some complete stranger took me?  I know you would all understand that these are absolutely valid worries of a poor baby.

The flight from Manila was uneventful.  I snoozed through to it the moment we were airborne.  We were later met by my Uncle Henty, and cousins, Ate Zay and Kuya Vincent.

The ride back home was another matter.  I didn’t get to sleep at all, and when we were on the first descent (Metro Manila could already be seen through the window), I got spectacularly sick to the horror of Mom and Dad.  I didn’t even want to place my mouth near the sick bag that Mom was trying to offer me.  My mom’s lap seemed like a good place to dump all the lunch I had.  After getting all that out, I was fine and I returned to my usual mischievous self, and often tried to sneak past my folks.  But she and I had to change clothes later at the airport’s restroom.

Here are some photos of my plane experience.  Mommy would later blog our actual homecoming, and our New Year celebration with my Dad’s side of the family.

Going back:

I can’t wait for my next plane ride later this month, this time our family’s bound for Hongkong.  Yay!