Casualties of Mold

(I started writing this entry last 11 August 2011. Yes, painful things are hard to say out loud.)

1. DVD bookshelf (The Tower of Power)
2. "Foyer" table
3. Countless framed photos and artwork
4. A bag of cloth I was supposed to experiment on with Daisy the Sewing Machine

5. TV stand
6. The k2 Couch

7. A few DVDs (sosi ang mold ko; ang tinira yung ibang binili ko pa sa US)

8. About 90% of my book collection.

Number eight was the most painful. I did not cry when I threw out my old journals, photos and letters. But when I came back from the garbage chute and saw my practically bare bookshelves I did this whole dry-heave-slash-Toni- Braxton-in-the-shower thing in the middle of the living room. When Mom arrived the next day to pick up the dead TV stand I cried like a baby all over again.

I remember when and where I bought them, how I found them, what reading them for the first time felt like, what reading them for the umpteenth time felt like, where I brought them. It wasn't just the story of the book itself, it was MY story with them, you know? Sigh sigh sigh.

I have never been a fan of reading books on a laptop or iPad (even The Bourne Identity couldn't do it for me), but mold just might swing my vote the cyber-way. I've started reading up on the Kindle. We finally found ONE store that sells it in Greenhills (the place where you can supposedly find ANYTHING; so parang hindi patok ang Kindle sa Pinas), but the lady wouldn't let me turn it on because it was their only unit, so medyo pointless; I wanna see what the words look like!!

Anydahoo.

Lessons learned:

1. I don't really need a lot to live.

2. The stuff you hardly use (bags, shoes) are the ones that get screwed over. So use them or lose them.

3. There's nothing like fresh air.

But oh, my books! My books!

(Wo)Man vs. Mold

Mold and mildew (a variety of fungus with a particular affinity for fabric and paper) can release particles that may cause headaches and aggravate asthma, allergies, and sinus problems -- and even change your mood.-- marthastewart.com

Those little shits are changing my mood, all right. They're making me hate cleaning (which I so don't want to hate because it keeps me sane). They're making me feel depressed--like a dirty child who can't keep her room clean. (But I do keep my room clean, I do!)

They have held hostage two pieces of living room furniture, one pair of my shoes, a leather bag, a leather WATCH, and three (!) pairs of Da Boyfriend's shoes. I have spent a small fortune on Messy Bessy's Tea Tree Mold and Mildew Spray, Pledge Lemon Clean Furniture Spray, rubber gloves, face masks, rags, dehumidifiers, and vinegar. But the little shits KEEP COMING BACK!

Giddemit.

This is what I get for being cheap and buying MDF furniture. But real wood costs an arm and a leg--and I like my arms and legs.

This is what I get for ignoring the little bubbles and cracks in the paint of our living room wall that first appeared about a year and a half ago (or maybe even more). The building contractors even came in and asked us if we were having any water problems (the people upstairs were), but at that time we didn't have any Mold Monsters running around. Now we do.

The building contractors are coming back tomorrow to check the wall out. Am I insane that I'm hoping there IS something wrong with the wall--even if it means construction work and being homeless for a few days--because that will mean I am NOT a dirty child?

Am I such a dork that I equate a great portion of my self-worth with how clean my home is? Is there a fifties housewife hiding underneath all this curly hair? Is there a shitload of mold hiding underneath the wall? Abangan!

Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow...

...bloom and grow forever.



They're not edelweiss, but I can't help but think of that song when I see them. I'm hoping my singing to them will keep them alive. Unlike my mother and maternal grandmother, my thumbs are kayumanggi.

Home-schooled: Longga Pasta

Hello, Mr. Rice Cooker. So we meet again.

With Señor Elba in the loving arms of the Sister and the Brother-in-Law in the other apartment I am back in rice cooker mode.

Having shocked myself by frying (and eating!) SIX pieces of bacon last night for dinner (fine, the package said "Lean and Mean", but STILL) I was determined to a) make a less frightening meal tonight, and b) finish everything in the refrigerator and pantry before hitting the grocery.

Since chorizo de Bilbao costs an arm and a leg (and Robinsons Supermarket doesn’t seem to carry Purefoods Chorizo Bilbao Style anymore) I grabbed a pack of King Sue garlic longganisa and crossed my toes.

Where have you gone? I miss you so.

Cybs* used to make longganisa in the apartment before, and it seemed like such an arduous process (something about cooking them in water first, then frying them and poking them or whatever) so I was a bit worried.

Now you see it, now you barely see it.

I’m happy to report that the longganisa I grabbed was less fussy, and Mr. Rice Cooker handled it pretty well.

Hanging out in the kitchen with Mr. Rice Cooker seems a lot slower than I remember. When I win the lottery I'm getting myself a Señor Elba!

*Dear Sister, a big fat THANK YOU is in order. Heaven knows how many times I've texted/IM'd/called you with questions about cooking!

Lungga Version 4.2

Since Cybs, Nelly and Tony moved out almost two months ago I've been using my vocal chords less, dancing around the apartment more, and cleaning a LOT.

I've moved into the master's bedroom (which I still sometimes call Cybs' room).

The bed is on loan from Syd's mom and is the biggest bed I've ever had. (I was going to steal our great-grandmother's bed, but Mom beat me to it and put it in my room down south, so I'm one lucky duck and Tita M is one generous woman.) I've slept on a single bed since I was a kid, so the fact that I can roll over more than once is amazing.

I put up light curtains in the hopes that it will combat my inner batugan. (So-so. I'm still a night owl at heart.)

The bedspread is a Greenhills find (and in true Javier Sisters fashion, Cybs and I got the same one!)

And speaking of my Sistah--kahit malayo siya, katabi ko siya! She put this framed photo of us (Central Park, 2002) on my nightstand as a joke, and I think she was kinda surprised that I took it seriously!

Da Sistah next to my other treasures in life (Omega Pain Killer, Vicks Vaporub...)

Syd has turned Gabby's room into a Man Cave.

Girlie colors be darned.
When a man wants his man cave he wants his man cave.

I finally found a new chair-friend!

My new chair-friend hanging out with Lola's plant stand thingie.

We hang out in the morning with coffee, we re-read books and we sing along with Blue the iPod.


I think I'm developing OCD.

I've sorted, organized and/or labeled almost everything in the house--including (gasp) the baby pantry.


I even defrosted the fridge--something I never wanted to do! I was always secretly glad whenever Cybs did it. But I did it and was very close to attacking its nooks and crannies with cotton buds.

Thoughts on life in Lungga Version 4.2...

• While eating your dinner on the dining table may feel more civilized and healthy it can sometimes feel lonelier than eating in front of the television.
• I can now be as messy or as neat as I want to be. (Right now I'm on Team Neat, but let's see how long that lasts.)
• When I leave the Lungga for a few days she has a funky vibe. Past episodes of Supernatural come to mind.
• There were days (and nights) when I wondered why I keep her as neat and as pretty as I can, then I remembered why. I'm doing it for me and I should be happy with that.
  

***

If you're furniture-hunting, check out:

Mandaue Foam (surprisingly cheaper than the other love of my life, Our Home)
5Corners HomeStore (they're also on Facebook)

(And no, this is not paid advertising. I was just really happy with their stuff--especially after wearing out the soles of my Chucks looking at stores everywhere!)

Say hello to my little friend.

Will we get along? Abangan.

Evita has been temporarily relocated, but I'm hoping to find a more permanent (and ergonomic) location for our new housemate. I haven't named her yet, but I'm pretty sure she is also a girl.

One of the freakiest things so far: Muscle memory from H.E. (at least I think it is). My hand kept going to the back of the machine for the presser foot lever.

Sewing the seeds of love?

A while back I blogged about an itch I wanted to scratch.

In classic Libran fashion (something I think my spankin'-new brother-in-law has yet to get used to; he likes to say "Buy it buy it" a lot) I have been taking my sweet time--lurking in the crafty sections of bookstores, staring at sewing machines in appliance stores, checking out online tutorials, twiddling my thumbs...

Today I had a carpe diem moment. I bought fabric weeks ago and, after a particularly enjoyable morning yoga session, found myself cutting a panel of the orange fabric. No measuring, no planning, just cut! Seize the scissors!

Ang pinaka-kuwadradong drawstring bag sa balat ng lupa.

It's a good thing I got striped fabric, because I can't sew straight to save my butt (see below for photographic evidence). But it was kind of fun and at times strangely soothing. (I say "strangely" because I never enjoyed Home Economics back in high school.)


I took my cue from this tutorial.

Perhaps it's a sign that two people I know have bought the machine I have been eyeing for a while. Abangan!

Special thanks to Saizen for this tanggal-kati afternoon.

lamon + labada

My script has been submitted and approved, the tapes have been shotlisted, and the interviews have been transcribed, so I am back to Inday/Manang Duty.

Unfortunately, the weather is not cooperating, so I cannot sing "Laba-dami, la-bangoooo" in the bathroom. I will not risk that awful "wet dog" smell that comes with sampay on a rainy day.

Here instead are a few pictures of lamon + labada.


The Lamon
Cybs and I tried to recreate the Dear Darla pizza of Yellow Cab.

Cybs made the chili oil. I made the tomato sauce with crushed tomatoes, mushrooms, sugar, salt, pepper, and oregano. Cybs topped the "pizzas" with black olives, capers, mozzarella and arugula.

We couldn't find alfalfa sprouts, though. (Does anyone know where we can buy?)

We had a crunchy tortilla version and a soft tortilla version. Medyo makalat lang siya when you roll it up. But still very yummy.


The Labada
Cybs had to use my bathroom one time. She saw my clothes hanging on the door and said, "Very G.I. Jane."

Oo nga! Hahaha.

I also realized that I have one whole drawer dedicated to nothing but blue shirts. What is favorite?

Therapy.

In the movie (ahem) Center Stage (stop laughing, I absolutely enjoyed that movie) there's a scene where American Ballet Academy instructor Juliette Simone ever-so-gracefully places her hand on the ballet barre. She says something like, come hell or high water, no matter how shitty or brilliant you are, you go back to the barre. Basta it's about the barre. And I guess how it will ground you and you can always find comfort in it...find your center.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is my barre.

What Cybs calls "ang pinakamagandang utility rack sa balat ng lupa"

I realized (or is it remembered?) this yesterday as, for the first time in a long time, I cranked up the ipod, whipped out my housekeeping weapons and made it Inday Day.

I swept the floors then mopped them. I washed the dishes then made tetris the cupboards.

I went through my laundry (can someone invent a handwashing machine please?). I changed my bedsheets and shower curtain.

I was very close to mending two skirts, but I realized Mom would be a lot better at that. (Hey. I think that should be my next goal.)

Fleetwood Mac, The Bangles, and Heart were cheering me on the whole time. And when I was done it was as if the house was saying "thank you" with each clean plate and freshly laundered shirt. And I kinda felt clean and freshly laundered myself.

I haven't done this in a while because I've been seriously racketeering and spending most of my weekends elsewhere. And I know now (well, I think I've always known; I just need to be reminded) that I have to do this on a regular basis again or I will drive myself batty. People have different ways of giving their brain a vacation and I think this is the best way for me.

Now don't forget, idiot.

The Taxman

Graham: You still awake?
Patty: Just my brain. (about her IRS audit) I'm so ashamed. I feel like I've been bad. The government's gonna ground me.

My So-Called Life, Episode 1.4 "Father Figures"

Nothing like a government-related errand to fill you with impending doom, dread, and that lovely walang gana feeling. You bring a book just in case it takes forever, wonder if you should pack rations, and imagine the lines will be awfully long and the process painfully winding.


I'm not a fan of the awful "E" lampposts in our beloved city, but the people in Pasig City Hall were very helpful (from the lady janitor to the traffic dude to the land tax lady who even accompanied me to some other office because of an identification number mix-up).

I didn't even have to whip my book out!

Yun lang po. Natuwa lang ako :)

Home-schooled: Behind the Scenes

It's a tight squeeze, but we make dinner happen.

Our trusty whiteboard on the fridge (thanks, Ka!).

I heart garlic.

Our weapons of choice: rice cookers!

Fancy (but frugal) mac and cheese for grown-ups.
Fancy = Mozzarella and Parmesan. Frugal = Eden!

Home-schooled: More Tales from the Kitchen

So. I haven't been doing my cookwork as much as I should. (The temptation that is Shakey's Pizzanatic Card is too great. My neophyte skills and love handles are paying for it now.)

But it is a spankin' new month, so here are the latest winner-dinners from the Javier-Gregory Kitchen.

Exhibit A: Squash and Potato Gratin with Walnut Crust

(Check out the recipe here.)
The verdict: Heaven. We used crushed graham crackers instead of breadcrumbs for the crust, and all-purpose cream instead of heavy cream (abuso na iyon).
Realizations:
I enjoyed making the "walnuts, finely chopped." I think I'm beginning to get the hang of holding the huge (...Googles the correct term...) cook's knife. There were a few rebel walnuts screaming "Abandon ship!" though.
Cutting, peeling, and removing the "seeds and fibers" of a whole squash is an absolute BIYATCH. Cybs showed me the way, but I think we both got temporary carpal tunnel syndrome. I almost killed another kitchen utensil. We felt like two English women in an Austen or Bronte kitchen (without the beauty shots).

Exhibit B: Italian Meatballs (that became burgers instead)

The verdict: Wagi na naman! This recipe has reinforced my belief that it is very hard to go wrong with Italian cuisine. Parang everything tastes good.
Realizations:
Without my "I wear contact lenses" excuse, I am no longer exempt from mixing raw meat and eggs with my bare hands. Cybele could barely contain her glee. The texture still makes me squeamish.
I seasoned without fear or favor! "The nose knows" may be a good indicator for me (i.e., "I can smell the salt/pepper/herbs more than the raw meat, so I think I'll stop seasoning now")

Exhibit C: Chicken Pomodoro with Tomato-Basil Garlic
(Not in picture: Camille praying the steam won't mess with her camera.)

The verdict: Dang, those Italians really know what they're doing in the kitchen.
Realizations:
I, Camille "Never Liked Tomatoes" Javier, will cheerfully consume tomatoes when they have been peeled and/or crushed. This isn't the first time it has happened, but the first time anybody said it out loud. Thank you, Gabby the Housemate.

A closer view (without the steam).

On my plate with Poppy Seed Vinaigrette Salad

Realizations (not of the cooking kind)
If I'm going to keep doing this I need to figure out how to take pictures of food! I feel the same kind of...detachment...to taking food photos as I did (and sometimes still do) with cooking. Hmm.

home-schooled.

(My first bell pepper, cored. In the background, Techniques and Recipes for
Vegetables & Salads. Books with pictures rock.)

When I was young (and clueless) I had a freak accident in the kitchen. After that, I think people at home kind of freaked out whenever I went in the kitchen (truth be told, I got a bit freaked out myself). So while my sister went to the palengke to choose from slabs of meat and piles of fish, you couldn't even get me to mix ground beef or cut an onion. (Well, I had my contact lenses as an excuse; but deep down I just really didn't feel like it.)

Twenty-four years--and many, many boxes of cereal--later, I have dubbed 2009 as The Year of the Cook. For about a week now, I have been cooking for the housemates, armed with my trusty Betty Crocker cookbook and our two-week menu plan. Every once in a while I find myself rushing to the laptop, Googling stuff like "How to prepare snap peas" and "Easy Alfredo sauce recipe." Sometimes I stand in front of a vegetable and wonder if I just peeled it or killed it. Most of the time I stand in front of something cooking, impatient as hell, then hear my housemates behind me: "You don't have to watch it."

Lessons learned:

American cookbooks lie.
Four servings my foot. Last night I made enough Pasta Primavera to feed an army.

I am not yet ready for Rice Cooker Magic.
The force is strong in my housemates. They can cook ANYTHING in a rice cooker: pasta sauces, noodle bowls, etc. Padawan pa lang ang lola mo. Stick to the oven toaster and the electric pan.

I am not yet ready to be a Singing Cook.
My default playlist for mise en place and beyond is my "Klasik" playlist, which includes tracks from The Piano, The Last of the Mohicans, The End of the Affair, The Red Violin, and Les Miserables. No jumping to the beat of the Bangles, Van Halen, or even Tori. Hindi pa kaya ng utak ko.

I shall not fear salt and pepper.
I thought I already understood the phrase "add some spice to your life," but I think it became even more...palpable...after a few rounds with the pepper grinder. And while I completely agree with The Kitchen King's advice (Hail to the Chef!)--"It's better to underseason than to overseason"--I'm going to try to, ahem, live dangerously.

I love the smell of potatoes.
...Or maybe that's just the wanna-be Irish in me. Pero hindi, eh. They smell like the earth, but in a wonderful way.

I cooked...

...and nobody died!

(I had a bunch of delivery numbers on speed dial, just in case.)

The menu:
Parmesan Crusted Chicken
Caesar Salad
Reese's Cheesecake

The casualties:
1 measuring cup (I'm sorry, Sister! Will replace.)

The new purchase:
Betty Crocker Cooking Basics: Recipes and Tips to Cook with Confidence ("with Confidence" talaga ang title. Sana!)

Too bad I was too brain dead to take pictures. Next time!

These days...

...I am trying to get used to "styling" my hair in the morning (instead of shoving it into a ponytail).

...I am taking it one page at a time (or I will go mad).

...I am all about lists. (Something tells me I should buy a corkboard already.)

...I enjoy Edie the Speaker's company.

(Especially when I am cleaning house.)

...I am doing a Hugh Grant and dividing my days into blocks of time.

guess who's coming to decorate? (part 2)

cybs has a very comprehensive blog entry about our "sexy carpenters and painters for hire experience", so i'll just say

a. my butt hurts from sitting on the...parking slot bumpy thing while painting.
b. we were painting in a parking slot in front of the apartment, so for around 9 hours that sunday, most people got a really good view of our behinds.

c. this man passing by thought we were boys (because we were doing man work daw) -- and why didn't we just hire boys to paint? (kasi fun, eh!)

d. it's amazing how light the apartment feels now...and how it really affects my disposition. sometimes i poke fun at professional organizers who are super-kaduper organized...but it does make me feel better...

i think ate's fish are happy, too.

now we can buy more books! (fatay)

ate's bufra (a.k.a. "Bisor") inspecting my work.

guess who's coming to decorate?

details (and more pictures!) to follow--drudgery, este, duty calls.

break it down.

welcome to barangay baghdad...or black hawk down, pinoy style. or maybe i've just seen too many urban warfare movies that i can just hear the RPG coming in.

floor pillows spotted and promptly purchased by our new housemate :) who, like ate, loves to cook. hooray! i am saved!

ukay-ukay ottoman i carried down quezon avenue to my friend's car. sofa & coffee table MTO by our new housemate :)

my new morning view. come late afternoon, the curtains kick in, and we are officially The Red Light District :)

khaleyla's bufra, our walking ace hardware. we kiss your toes.

home is where the heart is.

what we left behind.

what we now come home to.

the biggest difference? actual, honest-to-God doors (those of you who visited d'original lungga know why i'm ooh-ing and aah-ing about that)

the first morning i woke up at aspen suites (yes, i know, kinda...poseur), i woke up on my own accord...and i felt like i had lived there forever, in a good way.

i spend my mornings sweeping the floor, when i have time. then i sit down, have coffee. feed cybs' fish...or water her basil (only when i'm feeling really housebroken).

...there is quiet joy in the little things...not that i wasn't grateful for them before. i guess i just didn't see them for what they truly are.

hail to the [laundry] chief

i played hooky today...the weekend flew past me, and monday morning felt like it should be sunday morning, so i "cut" work, and promptly started cleaning the apartment like mad.

i cannot cook to save my life (i live on canned tuna and cereal when cybs is not home), and when my sister left for malaysia for work, she left a million post-its on our various kitchen appliances, left explicit instructions on how to heat leftovers, and left a ton of leftovers in our fridge.

she came home about a month or two later to find the fridge still full of leftovers, and me a lot thinner because of a cereal diet.

i cannot cook to save my life, but i can spend hours cleaning, and take true comfort in it. i suppose it's the before and after feeling i get. dirty dishes now, clean dishes 3-5 tori songs later. dirty floor now, hairball free later.

in our old apartment, i'd hang newly washed clothes out to dry on our baby balcony. i'd take in the clear blue sky, the wind on my face, that whole looking out like a barrio lass move, and a sense of calm would come over me.

so am beginning to think i was a labandera in a past life. either a vietnamese girl (hence the tendency to say didi mow) in some rice paddy, or a redhead in ireland. for a moment i considered being russian, but then that would mean dealing with a lot of hot water, which i'm not a big fan of.