2,555+ days of Summer

Remember that saying "What happens in Boracay, stays in Boracay"?

Well... I'll keep everything else on that lovely little island except for this Blast from the Past of a picture ---- a funny and self-deprecating ode to my youth. =P

                                                       Single and feisty at 20

Oh the woes of youth, manual cameras, and Genevieve Gozum two-pieces!!!! Hahahaha! (A time when the breasts were still firm and gravity-defying... and Moony was the soundtrack of summer. *sigh*)

7 years and 16-megapixels later...

                                                   Loving wife and mother at 27

.......

EVERY SEVEN YEARS YOU CHANGE

Taken from: DREAMHAWK

21-28 years

The cycle that follows from twenty-one to twenty-eight, can more or less be called a process of enlargement and refinement. It is the period that we mentally and emotionally enter into adulthood. We start to build the foundations of our careers and intimate relationships with a driving energy that we hope will gain us entry and respect in the larger world.

One of the most marked features is the developing sense of discrimination. The faculties of insight, intuition, judgment and understanding begin to come to the fore. The personality softens and begins to mellow. The sparks of interest that were awakened in the previous cycles begin to be developed along more definite lines. The abilities of the last cycle also flourish. The adult emotional age may begin to emerges if one has successfully grown through the previous levels. This shows as a growing sense of recognizing needs of ones partner yet not denying ones own. It is followed by an ability to be something for the partners sake without losing one's own independence or will. One becomes more aware of the issues that color or influence relationship, and meeting them in cooperation with others. Independence and connection can appear together instead of opposite ends of a spectrum. You move toward becoming caring sexual partners through discovering each others needs and vulnerability.

In this period you will begin to confront the issue that you were either born with, or arose through the challenges and pains of your infancy and childhood. These usually show as the way you handle intimate relationships, whether you can really meet in partnership with the opposite sex, and how you respond to the external world, its challenges and opportunities.

At this time what is revealed may not be addressed as a personal problem or issues to be healed or re-evaluated. They will be faced more directly later if they are not dealt with now.

.....................

Now all I wanna know is how I'm gonna look after 7 MORE years. =P

SARI SARI SOUNDS SHOW SCHEDULE

FRIDAY (April 29):

Kalokalan with Rozie - 12 nn
with replays at 4pm, 9pm and 4am
Cafe 808 with Switch – 1 pm
with replays at 5pm, 10pm and 5am
Bad News with Casas and Raf - 2pm
with replays at 7pm, 11pm and 1am

AND THE AWESOMEST SHOW WITH TWO OF THE MOST HARDWORKING DJs/TALK SHOW HOSTS THIS SIDE OF THE WORLD WIDE WEB:

The Hangover Club with Roni and Michelle – 3pm
with replays at 8pm, 12mn and 6am

Check out sarisarisounds.com for weekly schedules. Allow us to fill in the afternoon grind and void. =P

BECAUSE BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO...

especially with FACEBOOK.

(Ok ok, I know I come off as such a Zuckerberg hater ---you can even accuse me of sour-graping for lack of an FB ergo my blind rage--- but honestly, I don't hate it. I mean, I don't like it, but I don't exactly loathe it with a passion and morally detest it. I think, for the most part, I just find the effects it has on people... depressing. And unforgivingly... funny.)

And this is another reason why:

Taken from Claire Gordon's Facebook Break-Up on HuffingtonPost:

My sister and I broke up on Facebook. Well, she broke up with me really. I checked my profile one day and saw that the comically incestuous "In a relationship with Sarah Gordon" had become the covert and serious "In a relationship" with no specified partner.

My sister had decided, apparently, that broadcasting her relationship with her actual boyfriend was more important than broadcasting our whimsical siblinghood. I think I might have felt a little hurt at the time. But if I did, I've repressed it, because it's definitely inappropriate to feel spurned when your blood relative virtually dumps you.

I rebounded quickly, edited myself back to "single," and within two hours had received five commiserating and curious messages.

"i saw in my mini-feed that you just broke up with your boyfriend. i'm so sorry! are you okay? also, who was your boyfriend?"

That was when I decided, like 40% of Facebook users, to leave my relationship status blank. If breaking up with a joke was this stressful, I couldn't imagine clicking out of a real relationship, flooding hundreds of mini-feeds, and enduring swaths of lowercase condolences from my favorite acquaintances.

Even if you opt out of the "Relationship Status" tab, however, Facebook fall-out from a break up can still be brutal: Should cute couple photos be de-tagged? Flirtatious wall-posts deleted? Pics where his face was particularly hot de-liked? Can you de-like something on Facebook?

Our generation certainly isn't the first to advertise our relationships and deal with the thorny consequences. Medieval jousters tied the handkerchiefs of their beloveds to their clothing. In Norway, an available maiden walked around with an empty sheath on her belt until an interested suitor inserted a knife. In the 1950's high school of my imagination, men marked their territories with letterman jackets and sweetheart pins. A thwarted courtship, in all these cases, was a very public affair.

The difference today is that post break up, all the evidence of a relationship is permanently archived. When a new love interest peruses all 700 of your Facebook photos, as is routine, he or she will see you canoodling with your ex and, even more uncomfortably, he or she will read the comments: "gag me you guys are too cute" and "vomit get a room. jk I love you guys."

Given these intimate electronic trails, it seems practical, and not just petty, to de-tag, delete, or even de-friend. But the sad reality is that the photographic record of my life is almost entirely contained on Facebook. If I de-tag myself, then that image disappears, almost irretrievably, into Facebook's untagged ether of unflattering angles, sloppy drunk faces, bong hits, and I-didn't-realize-that-shirt-was-see-through.

I may want to temporarily eliminate tender snapshots for the sake of a potential future suitor, but I don't usually want to completely Eternal Sunshine a relationship. A simple solution is to save the most treasured photos and wall-to-walls on a hard drive, but this involves a devoted scrap-booking impulse I rarely have in the wake of a break up.

I was confronted with all these issues a few years ago. He de-tagged and de-friended. I, on the other hand, attempting some moral high ground, refused to tamper with the online artifacts of our affection.

It was approximately a year later, on my annual tour through my entire Facebook photo database (why are there 30 photos from that night when I have major grease-face?... oh my god that guy, what the hell happened to him?), that I realized how awkward it looked: The two of us with linked arms, my head on his shoulder, me tagged, him not.

Any potential future suitor, stumbling upon this image, would probably think: That must have been a really shitty break up.

History is always archived on Facebook, but also constantly revised: Drunken exploits edited out, fat days deleted, past relationships purposely depicted in particular ways, inadvertently depicted in others, or not depicted at all.

In a couple decades, however, when Facebook is no longer primarily a tool for finding, stalking, studying and communicating with love interests, but simply a scarily comprehensive record of my life (and, of course, a way to connect with old classmates!), I'll be happy that my youthful angst didn't delete my youthful affairs.

I'll just keep my privacy settings high.

.......

Yes. I made my then boyfriend-now husband delete, de-friend and de-tag and Eternal Sunshine that shit till his FB was squeaky fucking clean, til it was completely SPOTLESS... until all you can see was ME, ME, oh and Me me me... whether happy or drunk or talking or drunk or sleepy or laughing or wrecked or drunk. 

And I am not the least bit ashamed of it.

I hope his fugly exes/flings did the same. *smiles innocently*

(I had to clean out my multiply as well... though yes, admittedly, I wasn't exactly as acquiescent and gung-frikkin'-ho... but it didn't take long for me to realize what was more important here --- my then or my now. =)

Good thing I never signed on and I was single when it boomed. (I did however hack into my ex's account[s] and delete all of MY pictures myself... because I'm a fucking ninja and I'm totally all about that higher moral ground shit meaning... I didn't want any potential suitors seeing those pictures and I certainly ---and I truly mean this--- didn't want my ex's chicks to feel threatened by me upon seeing them.)

Because I'm awesome. And mature. Maybe not the hacking part but c'mon, it was so easy and I was doing him a favor.

But you know what?

Fuck "delete."

It's called a bonfire.

GOOD LITTLE GIRLS, THEY NEVER SHOW IT

There’s something about a woman’s strength that just seems so…

Unfair.

Ok I was thinking more along the lines of ‘unnatural’ but I didn’t want to imply that women were weak.

Because we aren’t.

Sure.

I mean, every time I’m about to do something physically painful, I just think:

“This can’t be worse than going through labor.”

But it’s more than just the physical pain.

The thought of dying is in there somewhere.

The thought of your baby dying.

And you have to be ok.

I think that’s the price we had to pay.

To be strong.

To compete in a man’s world.

(segue)

A friend once told me (a girl)

That we [women] were lucky

Because we possessed this luxury

The luxury to be weak

We could be weak

And it would be ok

[I even read somewhere that a woman’s tears were her natural defenses against men with raging libidos]

I don’t think it works the same for women.

She'd probably stifle a giggle.

Because no matter how many people say it’s ok for a man to be weak,

He just can’t.

Lest he want to be called a girl.

[I suppose in that sense, to be a ‘girl’ is considered degrading]

Labeled all sorts of crazy

Thinking PMS isn't really real, it was just one of those things

Girls do.

To get attention.

And I guess that’s why we [women] self-fulfilled this prophecy

And believed we were degrading

But instead of surrendering

We exaggerated the opposite

[Perhaps it was that innate drama queen in us which prompted it]

So we put on that brave face

Stepped out of the home

Chased that paper

Made that cheddar

And still decided to go home to make dinner

Because we wanted to 1-up what being a woman meant to people

To other people

Because we wanted to believe that we could do whatever we wanted

That we could leave

That we weren’t weak

And we wanted to secure our own selves

Our own hopes

And our own dreams

And find that those were all good things

Because victory and freedom and beating the odds never tasted so sweet

Though sometimes I feel

Fighting back tears are unnecessary battles

But I [we] did this

Now they expect us to be strong ALL THE TIME

To “take it like a man”

When all we wanted to do…

Was be a girl

........

For those who missed it...

Like I did. *smacks forehead*
                                  
You can catch THE HANGOVER CLUB WITH RONI AND MICHELLE (now at its new time slot) Fridays at 4pm with replays at 11pm, 8am on Saturdays and 10pm on Sundays, exclusively on www.sarisarisounds.com

                                                     Well, well, well...
......

Honestly, I never knew how hard it was to actually induce drunken conversation. But we manage, somehow...

                                       Still drinking after our own drinking show.


........

Now which artists would be great to get drunk with?

(Maybe we should get those General Luna girls... or even better, those girls I find singing on Party Pilipinas. That would be a trip.)

WHY NOT HAVING A FACEBOOK SUCKS.

Just got back from a presscon with "noted fashion photographer" Nigel Barker and "runway coach diva extraordinaire" Miss J. Alexander (I can hear Tyra's voice ringing in my ears) and I was talking with our art director... nay, SENIOR ART DIRECTOR, Ben about what we'd ask them, if ever... and he said I should ask them if they had a friendster and that just opened up our whole discussion (ok more like another epiphany) about why it sucks to NOT have a facebook. I said it was too late for me, I guess, and that maybe I'll just join the next big thing on the internet once facebook is phased out but for now, it just sucks when:

a.) a lot of contests and promos require you to log on to facebook, LIKE their facebook page, and submit entries there. I mean, like... what the fuck right? only people with facebooks can join basically? that's so unfair. whatever happened to email?

b.) apparently, "googling" someone now is obsolete ---- so if you wanna look for somebody, you gotta "facebook" them or check them on twitter or something (which actually proved pretty effective cuz last week, I emailed TJ Manotoc some questions cuz he said it was cool and then he never got back to me so I tried calling him, and his phone wasn't ringing and I'm thinking, what the fuck right? did he fall off the face of the earth? so i had our assistant "facebook" / twitter his ass and that's when we found out he'd tweeted about how his sim card was all busted. but i mean, he doesn't need a sim to check his email. I don't get it.

c.) can somebody tell me what the difference between a "friend" and a "facebook friend" is cuz I heard it again during the press conference and this girl was saying something about how this guy was her "facebook friend" and I'm thinking, WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN??? so maybe I guess I could count that as something that would suck ---- the fact that I don't have these special "facebook friends" ---- if only i knew exactly what made them so different that they had to be called a facebook friend rather than just a friend. Is it like... an online friend? Like a more sophisticated way to label a chat buddy. Like on IRC back in the day? Hahahahaha, IRC. =P

d.) there's only so much I can do on the internet sometimes and seeing my colleagues so caught up in their facebooks or my friends so engrossed in their blackberrys makes me feel so left out... that's why I just stick to watching CSI, Law & Order, and Bones reruns all by my lonesome.

e.) i'm so clever and no one knows it and that's why my little sister asks me for clever status messages or quotes me on the dumb shit i say. but she's kind enough to let me live vicariously through her facebook. (thanks roni!)

f.) people post party invites on facebook. does that make me a gate crasher for not RSVP-ing on facebook?

and the worst part about NOT having a facebook...

g.) since I don't have a facebook, i can't link any of my online posts (from the website) to our Gadgets facebook page so I usually just ask a colleague to do it for me... but when they're ALL GONE, there's no way for me to do it. Though I mean, I made my own husband an administrator... but I guess you can say it's such a hassle on other people.

OH. WELL.

Guess I should've just moved to tumblr.

Then again, I don't like how anyone can just leave anonymous comments on your posts and I'm sensitive like that (God that poor girl, Tricia Gosiengtian character... must've been hurtful to have so many people to berate her like that.) So yeah. Guess I'm staying here.

Maybe one day, I'll figure out how to shop online and really utilize the shit out of this multiply. =)

THE HANGOVER CLUB --- Pilot

What started out as a joke...

Has now become an actual job.

So set those alarms and mark those calendars to catch the first episode of THE HANGOVER CLUB with myself and Roni on SariSari Sounds with guests Nino Avenido, Enrico Subido, and Inky de Dios as we talk about anything and everything BUT their music.

Though I think it was really just about sex, for the most part. And sex performance enhancers. If that's what you call em.

You'll have to listen to find out.

I was so faded.

So yeah, catch The Hangover Club with Roni and Michelle on FRIDAY, APRIL 15 – 8pm; Reruns: 11pm and 4am

Hopefully, in the next shows, we won't talk about sex so much.

But I doubt it. *shrugs*

Happy Horse

                                     with my favorite hipster Paco Zimmerman

I used to collect all of my happy horses and throw em in the front seat of my car (uhm, for those who don't know, the happy horse is the bottle of redhorse with a logo of a horse smiling and the print on the bottle is red instead of yellow and is supposedly stronger than your usual redhorse but that's a lie =). Then whenever I drive, they just sort of roll around and make all sorts of noise.

Good thing I never got pulled over while they were there.

AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LITTLE SISTER, VERONICA!!!! (who is about to kidnap me from work so we can do what kids who play hookie usually do ---- GO TO THE MALL!!! Yehey!)

                          Roni, Me, my cousin DOCTOR Sid, and Mr. Waffle @Fliptop

The Hours

Dearest,

I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that - everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer.

I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been.

V.

....

For those who've felt this way, one time or the other... and lived.






***I thought I could find a more romantic love letter for my husband, but instead I found this... and it ached to know that once, I could not admit that I never wanted to say or write those very same words.

COME AND GET YOUR LOVE

I would just like to dedicate today's entry to those who helped me during a semi-crisis ---- very kind, selfless strangers, not want of anything but to help a poor girl in need.

Thank you and love love love:

To Mr. Benedict Flores (and the guard guarding his house) for finding and returning the IDs that were stolen along with my wallet and purse last Saturday at B-Side. The contents of my wallet (minus money and inactive ATM card) were kept in a small, white plastic bag and thrown away. Mr. Flores lives in Tomas Morato, y'all. He even called my health card so he could get in touch with me. That's wild. I don't know a lot of people who would even take the time to call me anymore. So thank you to un-lazy people with crazy investigative skills. (And mad thanks also to that other person who also found and returned by stolen wallet and IDs last year.)

It's happened twice and both times, I've gotten my IDs back --- license, SSS, medical card, SM Advantage card (hell. yes.)... even my Stand Out salon loyalty card. =P The last thieving f*cker though threw away all my wallet pictures and put em in that plastic bag EXCEPT THE ONE WITH ME AND MY SISTERS WITH OUR SIGNIFICANT OTHERS. (Yeah, I bet he's totally jacking off to it, the f*cknut).

But I consider myself EXTREMELY LUCKY despite the circumstances.

And of course, love to the guys over at Petron Quezon Avenue for crossing the street and pushing my car to the gas station as I waited for our family driver to come over and help me. (Yesterday, a screw from the clutch of my car came right off as I was about to make a yoo-wee on Quezon Ave. Now I don't get why people honk at those with car trouble??? Like, can't they see the frikkin' hazard? Inconsiderate f*ckers stressing me out.)

So to those selfless souls, thank you.

I still believe in the kindness of strangers... and the beauty this world remains to offer. Even if it's a small act. I'm deeply grateful.

On that note, here's a throwback to sum up all this love: (Was watching The Postman yesterday on HBO ----- awesome movie, y'all. Just goes to show that there really is so much power in hand-written letters).


This version was done in the movie:





This version was the one that reminded me why it sounded so familiar:



Come and get your love, everybody. =)

MAHAL MO PA SYA

... at wala akong magagawa.

......

I still have the portable silver and purple CD/Tape/Radio player my dad bought me just before I had to leave for college. It was my main source of entertainment (my huge PC, Windows Media Player, and the VCDs followed much later).

Used to listen to a lot of "Sunday Slow Down" .... or any other station that played non-stop, heart-wrenching RnB ... the setlist that played past midnight ... the kind of music that made you want to put your pen down from all the notes you've been re-writing, take a break from studying for the next day's quiz, sip your nescafe frothe, light a cigarette, and ponder about how nice it would be to have a study partner you were madly in love with... and loved you back.

I did a lot of emoting back then.

A f*cking lot.

It was a favorite pastime.

......

Now SariSari Sounds has brought it back (only this time, IT'S ALL OPM GOODNESS I would've never known about and now I'm getting a long-overdue crash course and absolutely loving it)

SariSari Sounds. An OPM Movement.

And there aren't any breaks!!! (Save for the stingers.)

So today's song on loop is:



......

This calls for a Nescafe Frothe and a cigarette, y'all.

THE HANGOVER CLUB

Did you know you can induce a migraine if you fight back tears?

Well. Yeah.

I dunno how it does that. But it kinda feels like you're drowning... in your face. (Which begs the question: has anyone ever died from ever holding back their tears?)

I seriously would like to know this.

Anyhow,

Watching THIS made my head hurt: (at this point, you had better be in full audio and visual focus for the next 5minutes)



*deep sigh*


DID YOU JUST DROWN IN YOUR OWN SALTY RIVER OR HUWAAAAAATTTT????

Oh good God I love couples. I love in-love couples. I love love. It's so nice. And then you hear THAT song. F*ck man. ANLAKAS. Cheers, man. Cheers to f*cking THAT.

......

And of course, I wouldn't have come across this song if it weren't for SariSari Sounds and their awesome playlist. (Can't wait to do the first show on Friday. =)

Catch Veronica and myself in THE HANGOVER CLUB as we interview your favorite local bands... and leave inhibition (and maybe even a bit of poise) out the booth... for a full hour. Or longer. Depends how long it takes to sober up.

And watch out for this guy --------------------------------------->
DJ Switch on Cafe 808 at SariSari Sounds dot com. (What a hottie =)

Photo taken by (fellow DJ and official photographer)
Ms. Dianna Jeraldine Capco




Ok, I'm gonna go back to listening to Johnoy and see how long I can hold my breath underwater.

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS DAY

My daughter takes an exasperatingly long time to chew and swallow her food. It is f*cking nuts.

In fact, it's so annoying, I can almost feel a bitch-slap coming on whenever she's starting to sigh and I've been sitting with her for almost an hour and her mouth is not moving and you start to lose your voice and your mind from all the bargaining that I would let her have the videogame once she's done and the futile threatening of kicking her out of the house to get a job if she doesn't want to eat the food we provide her. You seriously start coming up with the dumbest sh*t to say when you're faced with that kind of moral dilemma. Now you might think me a bad mother for admitting that but I am just being unabashedly honest about it. (Though no, I've never done anything of the sort save for the occasional disciplinary slaps on her hand and yes, I still sit with her anyway sometimes even on the floor looking like a crazy person imploring madly to a 3-year old.)

But yeah.

Parenthood is HARD. It is FUCKING HARD. No thankfully, not ALL the time. But it is hard. I mean, it's not like there was an elective on parenting you could take up in college... though I swear, now that I think about it, they should've included it when I was studying Sociology of the Family.

I digress.

And I'm dealing. My husband is dealing. I mean... she's our first. And I guess that's why first children have it the hardest... because they get stuck with the newbies. The overzealous. The young-uns. The gropers-slash-play it by ear-ers. First children get the part in the parents lives where the parents make all the mistakes first before they can learn from them and apply them onto the second, third, fourth...

But then that's what makes these kids so special too. Because when they achieve something, they're the first. And the first time parents see it, it's absolutely fucking awesome.

So last night, Pao and I took Psyche to the STOKED Inc. 10-year anniversary party to watch Pao and the rest of his bandmates perform. She partied and danced and stayed up with us til we got home, me drunk and Pao hungry. By that time, I had gone on autopilot ---- got Psyche to her room, changed her clothes (I threw a spaghetti strap house shirt on her and didn't even bother to include any pants), and put her to bed in just a shirt and her underwear... after which, I ate and then passed out in a matter of seconds.

This morning I woke up and noticed that the light in Psyche's room was on (we leave the doors open since her room is just 5ft. away from our bedroom and she likes to sleep alone). Now I don't encourage anyone at our house leaving the light on when any of us are going to bed, so I got up to check on Psyche only to find her a.) sleeping with the bright ass light on (the same light I always keep off) b.) sleeping opposite the side I placed her (head where feet was, feet where head was) and c.) sleeping with a completely new set of house clothes (her spaghetti strap dress and new panties).

At first I thought Pao had changed her after I fell asleep.
Then I figured Psyche had peed on her bed (but she hadn't).
Then I figured she had climbed on top of one of her toy boxes and switched the light on herself because she was scared.
Then I began to look for her old clothes and couldn't find them... at first.
Then as I stroked her head, I felt one side of her head was sticky.

I couldn't make out how all of this happened so I woke Pao up and asked if he had changed her.

He said no.

He then found her clothes in the hamper. They were wet.

We checked her bed. The side where her head was supposed to be was a bit damp but didn't smell of pee.

We then began to wake her up to ask her if she had peed on the bed. She shook her sleepy head. We didn't believe her at first.

Then with her eyes still closed, she mumbled:

"I made suka."


...........................

And that's when we pieced it together:

She had thrown up on her herself in the middle of the night, probably from too much partying. Got up (in the dark). Climbed the box. Turned on the light. Took off her clothes. Walked outside to the mezzanine connecting our rooms. Threw her clothes in the hamper. Went back to her room. Opened the TOP drawer of her orocan shelf of clothes. Took out a dress and a panty. Dressed herself. And slept on the foot of her bed.

When I asked her why she didn't just wake us up, she replied, "I wanted to get the alcohol because beebeela is dirty."

She thought her teddy bear had gotten vomit on it.

I was absolutely humbled and proud of her at the same time. What an amazing, amazing child, I thought. Though Pao was kinda trying to demystify my life-altering moment by saying this probably isn't the first time she's done this before. But how the hell would I know that, right, it has been a while since Psyche was without a yaya and in our sole care... and sometimes I do feel guilty that the circumstances are the way they are... and I find I'm not as good and as patient as I should be. As I'm expected to be. As I expected myself to be.

I'm afraid to fuck up so I pretend not to care. But I do. So much.

But I guess...

The joke's on me.

Because today I got a first taste of Psyche's true independence. And I am so proud... in some sick, twisted, indirectly direct way (I mean, my parenting isn't exactly your orthodox model parenting but whatevs right), I contributed and cultivated that kind of independence in her --- the same independence I cultivated within myself and was always so proud of having achieved at such a young age.

I'm not fucking up after all. *pats back* And I have an awesome partner to prove that. Because knowing my smart and successful and super all around good guy husband, if he thought I was such a fuck-up or that I wouldn't be able to contribute anything more to this world than just mere physical existence, I don't think he'd have wanted to marry me. I'm lucky he saw my potential... to become a BIG O. But that's for another lovey-dovey time.

..................


Of course Psyche just had to be difficult come lunch and I realize how happy I am to be going to work and leaving her at my mother-in-law's house.

Aaaaaah.... the joys and woes of being a parent.


HAPPY APRIL FOOLS DAY!