A Book Received And More Books to Give

I just received my copy of For Parents Only by Shaunti Feldhahn and Lisa A. Rice from Camy Tang. I's actually on my lap now. I've been flipping through the pages and there are interesting issues tackled in the book. Thanks Camy!

Meanwhile, there's a book giveaway at Laced With Grace that you might want to check out. It's up til January 1st so if you're interested, hop on LWG now.

Nise is also giving away "gently read" copies of The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver and Death of a Garage Sale Newbie by Sharon Dunn. If you're interested, give her a buzz.

Phone Moan

Somebody in the house demands “Papa ta” everytime he sees my phone in idle mode. The kid means to talk to Papa. What was I to do?

These days, it’s so hard to get through two sentences over the phone to my husband. Or even to officemates and friends because dear son would instantly think it’s Papa at the other end. And then that rascal named Matt would try to reach and snatch my phone and say “Papa…Pops...Hallo” even before he could grasp it.

I always try to dodge from his attempts but there are just times. Times when I’m on the phone with hubby, times when I get soft because I know he surely sorely misses Papa. I’d be damned but I’m not that tough cookie who can stand seeing excitement, longing and that wanting-Papa look in my boy’s eyes, without doing anything about it.

But tell you what, I’m really not so keen on letting Matt use my mobile phone. Any cellphone, for that matter. I don’t completely trust its safety, radiation-wise. No matter how much I try to be all-accepting, all-believing, there’s just this niggling doubt that refuses to get squashed.

Maybe I’m the only one who works in the telecoms who is cagey on letting her kid use a cellphone. I’m cagey, I’m crazy, I’m wary. Maybe I am overly, overly, overly cautious. No. not maybe. I AM overly, overly, overly cautious. I’m crazy, I know. It’s okay if it's me, but not if it's my son. Don’t ask me why.

For someone who works under radiating microwaves 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It’s funny. I’m funny. Certainly ridiculous.

This is my son's phone. An LG model, previously displayed at our business office as sample. Identical to the original thing, except for the LCD screen, battery and circuits. Scale 1:1. Almost real.

The picture on its screen is real, that's Papa. I taped it a couple of days ago. The best I can do.

Stress busting

Cutter. Mini-shovel. nails. My trusty pair of gloves. With a stubborn certainty on how to spend my morning, I called in these good old buddies 'o mine so they can pitch in some help for me. And indeed, we have had a field day doing yard work, under the scorching heat of the sun.

I spent more than three solid hours pulling off unsightly weeds like I’m yanking someone’s hair, digging through the earth like I’m bashing someone in the stomach,






pummeling the ground as if crushing inner demons like anger, despair, and the like, lifting and dragging off weighty pots like setting aside stupid pride ,

piling up stones to bury recent hurts, loading soil to earthen pots and sowing in the plants to pack positive vibes,


and then setting these leafy pals in order and putting things in their proper perspective.

Under the curious glare of the summer sun, the icy walls of fear melted. And it felt so liberating, breaking loose from its clutches.

As the beads of sweat trickled down my arms, back and face, I was cleansed with its healing salts.

I could have shouted how good it is to be alive because I am alive and so ready to face the world once again.

The seemingly ordinary bath after my self-imposed task, which filled me with some sense of achievement, was made glorious because of the feeling of triumph, of joy. So refreshing.

Although the grass-slash-cedarwood-slash-cucumber scent I am sporting to work this afternoon is synthetic, the healthy blush I am wearing is all natural.

The Holiday

Stars: Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet

Hubby loves it. And he brought me a copy during his recent visit. (Thanks, mwah!)

And I was lucky enough to have hubby to attend to kid (thanks again, mwah, mwah!) which gave me enough time to watch it. And I love it too (but not because hubby loves it).


It's a story about two heartbroken women who decided to switch houses, with one in LA and the other in Surrey, S.E. England.


It's cheesy, mushy, sweet, poignant - it made me shed some tears (but then I cry even with films like Cheaper By The Dozen), but some parts were pretty dragging- maybe boring. But in its entirety, it's a nice one.

Part of..

I am a mother. And being one plus oh, the unexpected part of mothering requires me to be a wanna-be nurse like today. No, my son is not ill, thanks God.

I just spent the entire afternoon (being my day off), bandaging and stitching up the wounded.. uhmm, books of my son with the ever reliable Scotch tape.

In their worn-out and tattered state, it is almost unbelievable that they are only in my son’s possession for nearly a year, some a little over a year. And looks even more impossible to salvage them. The oldest acquisition of them all was the Nursery Rhyme Book I used to read to Matt long before I have given birth to him, that was nearly 2 years ago. And looking at its hideously over-used pages (that one would probably think I have it with me for ages), brings memories of my pregnancy. Oh forgive me dear for getting melodramatic but it really is my favorite as well as my son's.

So here comes Mama with a Scotch tape in hand and a pair of scissors in the other, and a dash of resolute determination to boot. A trick here and there and I might just improve their state.

Hours later, after doing everything that I could, I believe I repaired most of them to almost mint condition, some to their functional state.