Simply Belle

After graduation, we headed straight to a place in California to scout for my daughter’s apartment. It took us all day to look around with help from a woman hired by her company to specifically help newly-hired employees. Her future roommate had to do the apartment search, too, but on a different day with the same woman. They were supposed to collaborate and compare notes the day after and see what apartment complex was best suited for both of them.  My daughter already had an idea of a place where she thought would be ideal for her to live. Of course, she would have to consider her future roommate’s choice, and make a compromise to suit them both if their choices were not identical. Sounds fair, right?

We drove home the following day after the search, and deliberated on the topic. We agreed that my daughter made the right decision on her choice, being close to the beach, close to work, and being in the wooded area which is cooler and with cleaner air, and also close to shopping center. It fits her personality.

The following day, my daughter and her future roommate were supposed to pick out an apartment because her roommate is moving in tomorrow, June 21. As it turned out, their choices weren’t the same – her future roommate liked a fancier, and more expensive place. MD (my daughter) was cool about it and wrote an email to her FR (future roommate) explaining why she preferred the other complex as a last attempt to try to persuade her. Her FR went back to the apartment complex that MD liked and looked at it a couple times more. Surprisingly, FR fell in love with the place and the nearby beach. MD was happy…………..

FR, at first, didn’t care who got the bigger bedroom and covered parking, so MD grabbed the opportunity based on FR’s terms. MD would pay $105 more based on square footage that FR computed. MD tried to make negotiations with her by cutting down the price to at least a 100. FR wouldn’t budge.  Tough roommate, huh? As you can see, it was all about her FR’s terms and conditions.  So, for the sake of getting along, MD accepted her terms.

To help her FR move in as quickly as possible, MD had to sign the lease the next day via fax incurring $10 fax fee. She felt accomplished after the fax was sent knowing that she found an apartment and a roommate.

But not for long.

She got another call from her FR. FR told her that she checked the apartment one more time, bringing along a tape measure to get the exact dimensions of the rooms.  She found out that her room was quite a bit smaller than she thought and she proclaimed that MD pays higher rent yet,  or FR takes the bigger bedroom, or they move into a fancier place that FR initially liked. Stephanie told her flat out that all she did was agree to her terms and that she already signed the lease, and if FR tried to raise her rent again, she would not want to be her roommate anymore. Meanwhile, MD called the apartment manager right away to cancel her lease as she felt there is no longer a future between her and FR together because of what had just transpired. She felt she will be miserable living with her with all the signs FR was manifesting already. Gladly, the manager understood her predicament and let her get out of the lease. Manager actually sympathized with my daughter.  MD  then called her FR on the phone and told her that it is for their best interest if they don’t become roommates.

Then several unpleasant scenarios start popping up in my mind:

What if her FR buys the couch and bans MD and her guests from sitting on it?

What if FR’s family comes for a visit, and does a cook-out, and never bothers inviting MD for even just a piece of dessert? I am a very giving person, my daughter’s friends are like my family, too. They are automatically included in our meal if they show up.

What if someone was in MD’s bathroom, and MD needs to use a bathroom urgently, will she let her use her bathroom? FR made an agreement that her bathroom is hers and hers alone.

What if MD’s car breaks down, will FR drive her to work? And how much would FR charge her?

What if MD accidentally leaves an appliance on, will she bother turning it off?

What if MD is out of food and can’t go to the market for some reason, will she let her borrow her food?

Or S (MD), I have been keeping track of how many times you flush the toilet, I feel that you pay higher portion of the water bill!

Did my daughter make the right decision to back out of the deal?

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June 14, 2009 was Stephanie’s big day. It was her graduation day. My whole family, her aunt and uncle, and her boyfriend attended her graduation ceremony.  Ceremony was held in Stanford U Stadium commencing with the Stanford’s traditional wacky walk. Graduating students got to wear their favorite costumes and they had an option to march foolishly as they wished, however and whatever they wanted to be remembered. Some students came in shorts, and some even arrived in skimpy swimming suits. Funny, yes, but I didn’t care for it. People were all over doing wacky things. It is like going to church with so many distractions. It took away the seriousness of the ceremony as if everything was just a joke.  But, whether people like it or not, the tradition must go on.

Stephanie, however, ended up just carrying a big sunflower balloon and walked just normally. That is my Stephanie. Though I had trouble finding her in the crowd. I had to ask her boyfriend to take a picture of her using long lens.

Justice Anthony Kennedy delivered the commencement speech and it was somewhat interesting. After the ceremony, they went straight to their respective department for another ceremony to receive their diploma. Stephanie graduated with a degree in BS Biomechanical Engineering, with a grade point average of 3.71. In another school, she could have qualified easily as Magna Cum Laude recipient but in Stanford, specifically in her department, they only gave a couple of honors given to those who attained the highest possible rating, and that’s it.

Let me show pictures of Stanford’s traditional wacky walk:

Stephanie is the one holding the sunflower balloon.

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The other day while my husband was doing some gardening work, he spotted a lizard in such a precarious position. Lizard’s back legs and tail are trapped in a half-inch hardware cloth and the only way to free it was to cut the wire. Steve came at it with the flyer (geeesh, I meant plier),  and the lizard thought for sure that he was going to crush it between the jaws. You should have seen the expression on its face. Instead, Steve snipped the wire and cut him free like a good scout..he he.

Finally, my husband figured out how to attach watermark on the photograph so no one can claim my photos as theirs anymore. That lizard picture was taken by Steve and he wants me to reiterate that the good deed was done by him.

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While browsing on friendster, I came across this quotation: “Be nice to your kid, they will choose your nursing home. Indeed, there is a lot of truth in that statement. I turned to my husband at the far corner of the house and read the line out loud to him. My husband was so engrossed in what he was doing, he didn’t say a word.

A while back, my friend, Bob, and I were talking about the same topic – elderly. He said there is nothing we can do when we reach that certain age when we cannot care for ourselves anymore. And that we are most likely to end up in a home care facility.  Of course, knowing how it is like in the nursing home because I go there everyday, the idea terrifies me.

What if I don’t want to go?, I asked Bob.

You are not in the right frame of mind then. Your daughters would say, “come on mama, we’ll go for a little trip, now,” and before you know it, you are inside the facility, helpless.” Bob retorted.

Oh my gosh, what a scary thought. I hope I don’t have to go there. And then, suddenly, several hours thereafter, my husband broke in silence and yelled, “whatever happens, I am not going to the nursing home.”

I laughed and said in a joking way, “if you are consistently nice to us, we might spare you a trip to the nursing home.” Might spare?? he asked. I am just kidding, I said.

Terrified at the thought, my husband becomes even more determined not to go to any nursing home facilities. And so am I. He would rather stay in the Philippines and hire a caretaker who will look after him, and a driver to take him to places, all for a reasonable cost. Just like my mother, even when she became physically disabled, she didn’t have to be forced to leave the house  she loved so much to live in a strange house. Instead, she had the financial independence (through my help, of course) to hire a caretaker to take care of her during the day. Caretaker left at night when everything was done and in order. Eventually, my sister-in-law took over the job and made sure that my mother’s last days on earth were fun and around people she loved and cared.

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It infuriates me when I see my pictures stolen in front of my very eyes. I don’t mind them taking my pictures and post them on their site if at least, they give the credit to where it is rightfully due. Or, I don’t even mind seeing my pictures in people’s site so long they leave the pictures the way they are – unaltered-  for people to oogle on. That’s fine with me. People are smart and they can eventually trace to whom the photos belong.

What irks me is despite of how repeatedly I told the guy that the pictures were mine (by leaving comments on my pictures that are displayed on his site , and yes with his signature on them,) instead, he had the gall to get mad at me, and told me that he got the pictures from a different site, and that he already thanked the person from whom he got them. What I would do if I were him, after he was notified, I would get rid of the pictures or if he likes my pictures so much, I would retain them and put a caption that the pictures were taken by Belle.  It is the right thing to do.

Of course, he didn’t do a thing.  Instead, he took it upon himself and put a signature on my photograph that he knew he didn’t take.  Which, by the way,  only sneak thieves are capable of doing. And what is worse was he had the courage to alter my photo by cosmetically removing the other person from it using the photoshop and put his own signature at the bottom and making it look like his. And the funny thing is he did an amateurish job at it that even a kid would know that there was something wrong with the picture, as if he painted it over with tool brush that was done so lousily.

Take a look:

original picture

the picture that the thief altered.

Doesn’t that tell the type of person he is?  Definitely, an untrusworthy sneak thief.

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I thought I would make a public announcement through my blog about our forthcoming reunion on April 7 & 8, 2010. Who knows I might be able to reach out to some of you who might be reading my blog. Our last reunion was held a little over 10 years ago, and sadly, I was unable to make it. It was the year right after super typhoon, and I wasn’t too excited to see Catanduanes in brown, treeless landscape. Thus, I didn’t go.

I was waiting for the next reunion to unfold but I don’t foresee it happening in the near future. That is why I thought about organizing one with help from my batch mates who are based in the USA, and a few other ones from Catanduanes. Why not reunite now while we still look half decent and have the stamina to travel around? It should be fun getting reconnected with my batch mates and reminisce old times. Although my high school experiences weren’t actually as exciting as others’, so there is not a whole lot of fun things to recall except perhaps for some embarrassing moments while dancing with my prom partner, which I will not elaborate until reunion day.

I also had the liberty of inviting one of the best teachers we had in Bato who is based in the USA for the last 25 years, if I am not mistaken. She is actually my first cousin. Gladly, she accepted my invitation and is looking forward to meeting her former students and faculty. I plan on making her reunion’s guest of honor. I know a friend of mine is thrilled to find out that teacher T is coming. Who wouldn’t be?

If we cooperate and organize this event superbly, there is no doubt that we will expect a good turn-out. I hope my co-organizers don’t lose the enthusiasm in tracking down my batch mates as the reunion unfolds.

So, if you are from batch 78 of Bato RDHS, Catanduanes, and you stumble on this post, please leave me a note and contact information so we can get a hold of you. And if you know anyone from out batch, please help spread the news. Thank you!

I lifted the pictures from the friendster site of Cynthia of Bato here.

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When I got home today from work, after doubling my work load with the food drive, a beautiful centerpiece greeted me on my kitchen counter. It came from my beautiful, thoughtful, and loving daughter, Steffi. I wasn’t expecting anything from her except maybe a card, because she already gave me a pre-mother’s day present – which cost her an arm and a leg. And she hasn’t even started her job.

Last year, Steffi promised me that when she gets a job, she would pay for the removal of my amalgam fillings. I have about six of them lurking in my mouth. When she insisted that I have them removed, I didn’t take her seriously because several of my co-workers have them, too, and they don’t have any intentions of getting rid of them. Since then, I have been researching on the dangers of amalgam fillings on our body. What I found out was very alarming – rather disturbing. It says that these fillings continuously release mercury as a toxic vapor and as much as 80% of the vapor enters the body. Mercury is fat soluble and can enter every cell of the body and is particularly destructive to the brain. Is that the reason why my memory has deteriorated significantly over time? Scary! And I am far from being old.

Sorry, I got sidetracked.

Anyway, my other daughter, Lexi, is coming tomorrow after her work shift to spend mother’s day with me. How lucky could I get? We will probably head down to my friend’s ranch and have a barbecue party, and maybe, sit next to a fire in a pit with a bottle of beer. Oh no, I forgot I don’t drink. It should be a delightful moment.

I thank God to have been blessed with two beautiful, smart, and loving daughters.

And I got a home-made card from Steffi, too.

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My daughter had been enticing us to visit her in Stanford U while she is still a student so she could show us around one more time. My husband, who is always conscious of spending (and I don’t blame him,) thought that the trip was unnecessary as we will be making another trip in June for her graduation. I, however, didn’t even have any second thoughts about the whole idea. This opportunity only comes once, and I was not about to pass it up. It took a while before my husband finally caved in.

So, off we went. We drove and slept over at a friend’s house in LA. They served us great Filipino food and dessert, and entertained us with great karaoke music. They even had take home goodies for us.  We were so spoiled. Steve got in some chess practice with a friend, Vic. We had a great time. Those friends of mine are a treasure.  Priceless treasures!

The following day, we headed to Irvine to scout for apartment for Steffi who will be working in that area right after graduation. She had her  job secured a the beginning of her senior year when companies were laying off workers here and there, left and right.  A couple of hours later, we spotted a decent place in Costa Mesa which we thought was good enough for our daughter. It is a 5-minute drive to the beach, and a 10-minute drive to work. Not too shabby, eh? Though there is one problem, as always – her future roommate prefers 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms apartment. In that case, they are going to find it themselves.

Anyway, the trip to Stanford U was worthwhile. Stanford U is huge, which comes in second behind University of Moscow, in terms of continuous land area. It took us forever to trek the whole campus. My husband developed blisters, and decided to head back to the dorm. I was getting tired, too, but still had the stamina left to continue with the tour, if needed. But, my husband prevailed, and so we gingerly walked back to the dorm, resting in between, as the blisters were about to pop.

The next day, we had the opportunity to sit in Steffi’s classes. Funny, while the lecture was going on, I inadvertently hit the half-empty bottle of water against the laptop and created noise, getting everybody’s attention including the professor. The professor knew exactly where the noise came from. So, he said, “you there, in the back, (he meant Steffi), try to impress your parents.” Everybody laughed, of course, and Steffi was put on the spot because of me. Sorry!

The next class was rather interesting but I kept dozing off a minute at a time at the beginning of the class because it was hot even with air condition, and also, I was sleep-deprived the night before. You know how it is sleeping in strange place? It takes several days before you get used to the environment and its noise. I remained awake though the rest of the lecture.  Whew, wouldn’t it have been an embarrassing situation again for Steffi had I been caught sleeping by the professor?

One thing I noticed about our daughter, she was proud of her parents despite how homely/odd we look…he he. She made an effort to make an appointment with her friends and mentor just to meet us even for a short while as they were busy with classes and jobs themselves. She didn’t see us as a nuisance around her boyfriend, going to places, like church and cafe. It was probably her boyfriend who felt that way about us. Yes? No? (you know who you are)

Though the highlight of this trip was when her A Capella group serenaded me with 3 beautiful songs, with Steffi as a soloist in one of the songs. I am so used to hearing them only through video that a member record whenever they give concert, and didn’t realize how much beautiful they sound live. I felt so overwhelmed and honored to be crooned by a bunch of good-looking and talented kids. Sorry, I didn’t take pictures because my daughter thought it was inappropriate and I would be more like a stalker (according to my daughter.)

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Tagged by Noemi.

I love being their role model

Once in the church, I heard the pastor say, “your children are what your parents are.” It hit me hard! That was the time when daughter #1 was going through a hard phase. I took the pastor’s words literally and blamed no one but me for what my daughter had become. “What could I have possibly done wrong,” I asked myself. I never drink or smoke. I went straight home from work and vice versa so I could be at my children’s beck and call despite of how tired I was. I repeteadly turned down invitations from my friends for a night-out session. I said, “not until my daughters are out of my house, only then, I might consider it.”  To date, I haven’t succumbed yet to any of those invitations.  We never keep a booze in the house except for a bottle of cooking dry sherry. I just mainly concentrated my life in raising them to the best of my knowledge. When they needed me at school, I always made time even if I had to forfeit my lunch.

Thank goodness, that was just a phase. She is as good as gold now, and so as daughter #2. Both are non-drinkers and non-smokers, and both are good and responsible girls. It turned out that the daughter of the pastor got pregnant before she even finished high school.

I love playing guitar for them.

I started playing guitar for them and sang songs like ABC’s and from the Sounds of Music ever since they were babies. At age 2 or 3, Steffi could sing ABC’s well with the guitar. She went like this, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, Mino Mino P. Lexi’s favorite song, however, was Ency Wincy Spider. Sitting on a cart in a grocery store, she would sing the song non-stop. It was like a broken record…ha ha. Now, they are both into singing and playing guitar. We all self-taught ourselves to play guitar sometime in high school.

I love cooking their favorite food.

Both my girls love Filipino eggrolls or lumpia. Even though fixing eggrolls is time consuming, I always make time to wrap a dozen or two amidst my busy schedule just to satiate their appetite of their favorite food. When they were here this recent spring break, I knew I didn’t have much time for it but, somehow, I managed to fix eggrolls with help from my girls and Steffi’s bf. They were awesome helpers, especially Steffi’s bf who was able to master the art of wrapping eggrolls in no time.

I love hanging out with my girls

When they are home during  school break, I always spend some time hanging out in their rooms, catching up on the latest events and developments in their lives, and filling in for the missing part in life. I love to hear new songs from Steffi, which are saved in her computer. I also love watching movies with them through a projector in their rooms. In fact, I got to watch Slumdog Millionaire with them (my girls and S’s bf) from the computer through a projector, for free. It was like watching in the big screen at the movie theater. That was a lot of fun. Now that the kids are gone, my living room is dark, empty and quiet again. I should have adopted a little rug rat.

I love exchanging clothes with them.

Since we are approximately the same size, we love wearing each other’s clothes. One time, I wore Lexi’s expensive denim pants, and a friend of mine saw it at work, and loved how it fit on me, so she asked where I bought it. Ha ha, she caught me right there and then borrowing my daughter’s pants. There were times when I couldn’t find a particular outfit, and it was because one of my daughters took it without my knowledge. Oh well. One thing I like about my girls,  they love to share their clothes with me. Though now I am limited to what I can wear from their wardrobe because Lexi is about 7 pounds smaller while Steffi is a lot taller.

Note:  I blurred his face for anonymity

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Guest blogger: Steven Hilliard (my husband)

When I retired to sunny and dry Arizona from the cloudy and wet Pacific Northwest, I figured I had it made. Maybe now my tomatoes and peppers would ripen with all the heat and sunshine. That was the problem, there was just too much heat and sunshine at five-thousand feet elevation. The thin atmosphere permitted the sun’s rays to literally burn up my seedlings and even some mature plants like pole beans. Not only that, the extremely dry mountain air, only 10 to 15 percent RH, sucked up the moisture as fast as I could drench the soil with the garden hose. By midday my squash, cucks, and zucks were literally panting for a drink. I just couldn’t keep the soil damp no matter how often I watered. That was the first year.

The second year, I bought mature potted plants from the local nursery and things went pretty well for awhile. In fact, that year I was able to harvest a satisfactory crop of vine-ripened tomatoes, eggplants, and cucumbers, most of them heirloom. But the predators caught up with me the third year. When I say predators, I’m talking about elk, a whole herd of them that can glide over an six-foot fence as easily as a pole vaulter. What was left of the garden after they were finished, the javelina cleaned up. Javelina are peccaries that over the centuries immigrated to the southwest from the Amazon jungles. These smelly, pig-like rodents run in family groups and can squirm under a fence as easily as do snakes. They can turn a garden into a dust bowl in three passes. So I built a chain link fence with a strand of electric wire on top. That kept the big critters out.
But I forgot to mention the little varmints–the rabbits, ground squirrels, and pocket gophers–that wandered in from the nearby national forest. Let me tell you about the worst of them, the pocket gophers, which eventually brought about my downfall. I noticed one fine day that a normally healthy tomato plant looked droopy, like it needed watering. So I gave it a good soaking. The next day, of all things, it had vanished! The second plant next to it now looked wilted. What’s more, the following day, son-of-a-gun, if that love apple didn’t disappear as well. It went on like that sequentially, until the entire row of tomato plants wilted and disappeared from the face of the earth.

It started again with the pepper plants, one by one, day after day until that row was almost depleted. I frantically watered what remained of them and even replanted new starts, but it was hopeless. The disappearing act played on every day like a tired television movie that I’d seen dozens of times before.
Later, as I dug near a row of eggplants, I happened to notice a pepper plant in the act of being pulled under the soil right in front of my eyes! Something was summarily dragging the plant, roots first, under the soil. Although I was furious, the humorous scene reminded me of a cartoon where Bugs Bunny was filching carrots from Elmer Fudd’s vegetable patch. “What’s up doc?” I muttered along with a heap of other expletives that aren’t fit for print. A few minutes later at my feet I spied a near-sighted, hamster-looking rodent clearing out its tunnel and kicking the dirt onto my garden clogs! He was so intent in his work, and so nearsighted, that he didn’t even notice me as I stared at him, my mouth agog.
I tried smacking him with the flat side of the shovel but he was gone in a flash. I dug up his tunnel and came to an underground cavern where all my heirloom vegetables were stored, like hay in a loft. Well, I tried every poison and smoke bomb I found at the plant store but I was just throwing away my money. The traps they sold were great at driving their spikes into the palm of my hand, but useless otherwise. Nothing worked. It was too much for me. After some forty years of gardening, I decided to give it up and eat TV dinners instead of fresh heirloom vegetables. In spite of this lovely climate, I couldn’t get anything to grow. The clever pocket gopher had me licked.

Then, last year, although it was late in the season, an inspiration hit me–raised beds. I don’t know where I got the idea–probably from a magazine article. Money was no object here. What counted was outwitting the critters, especially the pocket gophers. I started by digging down a foot deep and establishing a five-foot wide by sixteen-foot long bed. To keep out the pocket gophers, I laid down a roll of half-inch mesh galvanized hardware cloth that I bought on sale at the local home improvement center. For the sides and ends I mortared up three rows of 8 x 8 x 16-inch cinder blocks. Pocket gophers are burrowers, not climbers. The blocks were mortared only on their tops, not on their ends. I capped the whole affair off with a row of two-inch thick headers.

Then I shoveled in screened topsoil and plenty of composts. Compost holds the moisture well, keeping the soil from drying out, which is a major headache in this dry climate. To temper the sun’s harsh rays, I covered the whole affair with shade cloth. I found through trial and error that 40% shade cloth works best at my elevation, anything stronger and the plants turn out leggy. Down in the desert near Phoenix they use 70% shade cloth. Wow!
As a frame for the shade cloth I installed hoops made from half-inch PVC water pipes every four feet along the sides. To do this I drilled a series of holes with a masonry bit into the caps and stuffed the ends of the pipes into the hollow spaces of the blocks. Shade cloth was draped over the whole affair and secured by plastic clips that I ordered over the internet. Now I finally had a garden!

Shade cloth, let me tell you, is a boon to this type of gardening. As I pointed out, it not only protects the tender cultivars from literally being roasted by the sun’s rays, but shields the area from wind-born weed seeds, many insects, and cats wanting to use the place for a litter box. My greatest pleasure was to find a grasshopper the size of a marlin lure tangled in the strands of the netting. I plucked it out and dashed it against the ground and then tried to stomp on it. That amazing pest got up and hopped away. They’re that tough. No wonder locust plagues have brought down whole civilizations in ancient times.

Not every plant likes shade cloth though. For instance, once established, peppers and eggplants prefer to brave it out without the veil over their heads. Tomatoes, on the other hand, prefer the morning sun but are thankful for the afternoon shade. All of this proves that a person should yield to the needs of his little darlings. I learned this the hard way when under the shade cloth the peppers and eggplants put on an impressive display of leaves but very little fruit. Or were these nightshade berries, judging by their size? As you can see from the photos, the chard, beets, turnips, carrots, onions, lettuce, etc. sure liked it. This project turned out so successful that I built another bed–twice as long as the first one.

As the cool season stepped in to replace the summer heat, I replaced the shade cloth with greenhouse plastic. Also I replaced the summer vegetables with cool weather crops like spinach, turnips, kale, etc. I even planted mache and miner’s lettuce, as well as an assortment of lettuces, chards, onions, beets, and Asian greens. Most of the old standbys did very well during the winter when the outside temperatures got down into the twenties and even sometimes into single digits or lower. They were quite cozy under the poly wrapping as you can see from the photos.

As of this writing, I’m itching for the summer planting season to arrive. I’d like to try some exotic varieties next like sunchokes, saluyot, and winged bean plants. Arizona, with all its faults, is perfect for growing vine crops such as squash, watermelon, cantaloupe, and Armenian cucumber. I can’t wait for May to come.

As far as all the money I spent, and it was indeed substantial, I read somewhere that for every dollar invested in a garden a person can expect four dollars in return. Every day, even in the bleakest of winter weather, I was able to present a huge plastic bowl filled with fresh greens to my wife, which goes to verify that statement. Also it’s nice to gaze out of my kitchen window in the morning and see that my organic vegetables are still there in the garden, not in the bellies of javelina or elk. But my triumph over the wily pocket gopher is the greatest reward.

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