Cooking for one

The good: I can cook (or not cook) anything. I can eat (or not eat) anything.

The bad: I have to eat everything. For days.

In picture (because am using my phone and have no idea how to make captions): soba with tuna, spinach, and garbanzos.

Not in picture: isang balde ng tuna, spinach, and garbanzos.

So am thinking, maybe I'll have it with pasta next. Then couscous. Then maybe just dump it in the blender and make a shake out of it.

Foodies, chefs, cooks: what say you?

Three Bees

Three bees have been buzzing in my ears: babies, bags, and ballet flats.


Babies 
I blogged about money matters a few posts back. Since the birth of The Sprout last May, my  Internet search history has been full of baby-related websites, and I've stumbled upon some useful information along the way:

1. The Happiest Baby on the Block
This whole "fourth trimester" thing kinda makes sense.
This whole 5 S's System is pretty effective!
If I do decide to have a kid, I'm going to take EVERY class known to man. 

2. CRAZY CRAZY MONEY MATTERS
From pregnancy to delivery
From 0 to 6 months

P221,000??? Say it like Olivier Martinez in SWAT. P221,000??? *Faints* I made the mistake of sharing this information with two co-workers (one married and trying to conceive; the other engaged) and our world got all high-pitched.


Bags
I feel kinda shallow talking about this (especially since some of my dear friends are talking about big stuff like making ethical food choices and self-publishing in the Philippines), but a bee is a bee, and a buzz is a buzz, and this bee has been buzzing.I've never been one for brands. 

My favorite bag in the whole world is an Army bag I picked up at Fort Magsaysay, Nueva Ecija, during one of my favorite GamePlan shoots. 

Around the world with my trusty bag.

She's been with me on shoots and trips; she magically expands when needed, and has endured countless cramped MRT rides without becoming a victim of some evil pickpocket shithead. I am grateful and full of love, but I'm beginning to wonder if it's time to level up. No, I've never been one for brands, but the world kinda is, and like it or not, I live in this world. That point was probably best driven home by an old friend who wrote, "Tumatanda na tayo. Gone are my $20 bag days." This from a woman who, like myself, used to wear tie-dyed shirts and black boots.

If money were not an issue, I'd bag one of these babies:

If it's good enough for Buffy, it's good enough for me.

As classy as the lady herself.

Probably impossibly impractical. (Unless you're hiding a baby bump.)

Mind you, I've never seen, felt, or even smelled any of these bags. I don't even think I've gone into any of their stores. My trusty Army bag might go into shock. I might go into shock. (P70,000+++ for a bag? A bag?? Can it do my laundry?)

Obviously hindi ko pa keri ang ganyang level ng level up. So I now have a bookmark folder named "Bag Lady", and more accessible girls like Kate Spade, Coach, Nine West, and Tory Burch hang out there. I still shudder at the prices. I've gotten compliments from friends and clients on some of the bags I own (St. Francis Square, Market! Market!, dear ol' SM, I heart you all), so I must be doing okay. But again, there are some places and people in this world who look at stuff like what you wear or own--and while they're not my friends or my places (thank GOD), sometimes I wind up there and a woman's gotta arm herself. 

(I understand now why Scarlett O'Hara made a dress out of her mother's drapes and wore it like armor against Rhett.) And speaking of armor...


Ballet flats
Almost a year ago I wrote about jeans and juju. I was a good girl about the juju part (two out of three plants are still alive and kicking, Sir!), but after buying a pair of straight jeans I went on with my life.

I realized that I can look a little bit more presentable by trading my trusty Chucks for my trusty ballet flats from Hush Puppies. Unfortunately, my ballet flats are slowly dying, and trying to find a good replacement has made me feel like one of them knights looking for the Holy Grail. 

Are they in Payless? Sorta kinda, but I still got to put band-aids just in case, and my baby bunions are not happy. So I flexed my Google muscles and wondered, "Could they be somewhere else, in places that I find too fashyon for scruffy ol' me?"

Abangan! (Wow. I just made a new label: fashyon. Kalowka.)

Because I can't say this on Facebook...

(Because as far as The Parental Units are concerned, I am their innocent, alcohol-free baby daughter)


I will say it here.


Is Hemingway right? Is it really better to "write drunk; edit sober"? Because I was blocked like hell until I cracked that first bottle open...

Photo from majoytheindian.deviantart.com

And then I started dancing around while doing the dishes. And then I stopped staring at that fricking blinking cursor (I HATE that fricking blinking cursor) and started typing instead.

Don't. Drop. The Package.

I held her and she didn't break!

But hot damn, that wiggly neck is all kinds of freaky. And don't get me started on putting her back, or putting her down. Shudder.

The first time I held her I was so tense! At parang pabigat siya ng pabigat.

Mommies of the world, saludo ako sa inyo.

Camp O'Donnell

Must. Get. Electronic ear protectors. Para sulit.