GUSTO KO NG BABOLGAMMMMMMM!!!!!

And I'm back from a lovely vacation in Manila.

My sister got married to her soul pal, I was able to spend precious moments with family and friends, I got to bond with baby girl Ain, I got to eat Shakey's garlic and cheese and Hawaiian style pizza and I was able to spend some quality time with my Dada (it was not enough, though). All those in three weeks.

Through it all, I missed Noel and I was raring to go home. I was looking forward to the long flight home. I wanted to just watch movies on the plane, read my book and peacefully drift off to sleep and wake up in SFO.

It was not to be.

Everything else happened but that.

I knew it the moment I heard her voice. She was small. Little. All of 7 summers maybe. But boy, she had a big voice. Imagine. A whiny seven year old little girl with a big voice. Ayayay! There was something about her that said: Meltdown.

And it happened. Minutes before take off.

She started looking for her bubblegum. Or, her BABOLGAM as she called it.

The plane started back up from the tarmac.

She started to dive into the inner crevices of her little bag.

Her whining got a bit more urgent.

The plane started to taxi.

And then...the beginning of a major mega tantrum. One that would put any misbehaving child to shame.

She started hitting her mom. Hitting the seat in front of her. Screaming at the top of her lungs. "Nasaan na yung babolgam ko!!!!" "Dito ko lang yon nilagayyyyy!!!!" "Waaaaahhhhh!!!!" "Waaahhhhh!!!!!!"

Oh my. The spawn of Satan was sitting beside me. No wonder some people refuse to have kids.

At this point, and I did not know that it was even possible but her mega tantrum revved up even more.

"Umaandar na yung eroplano!" "Baba tayo!!!!" "Ayoko!" "Ayoko!" "Ayokong pumuntang Amerikaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!"

Oh Lord.

And just in case you were wondering, she was not traveling alone. No. But it sure seemed as if she was. Her stupid excuse for a mother (I tell you, her mom was/is a waste of essential space in this vast universe) was doing nothing! Nothing to calm her down or even reprimand her!

Knowing fully well that her kid (possesed by the spirit of Chucky) was disrupting all of the hundreds of passengers on the flight, she just stared at the little girl. She did utter a few words like: "Ano ka ba, Bianca, nakakahiya ka naman." The devil has a name. Oh and she also played this stupid, stupid charade: "Ay alam ko na, baka nandito." Then she rummages through the little bag herself. "Ay, baka kaya nandito?" Looks into one of the pockets. "Ay hindi, parang nakita ko dito!"

God, save me.

Meantime, the Devil's child was screaming at the top of her lungs. Still hitting her mom. Still hitting the seat in front of her.

Meantime, the plane was about to take off.

By this time, the flight attendants were hovering above us.

As I looked behind me, one passenger was handing me his pillow... gesturing... telling me to end their misery and suffocate the little girl!

One passenger even offered his seat to me. So kind. I declined, of course. Then he said: Don't worry, she'll get tired soon and she'll go to sleep. To which I said: She better or I'll put her to sleep! I whispered, of course.

As this covert communication was happening between and among me and the other passengers, the flight attendants were clearly trying so hard to put their game face on to mask the irritation that's consuming them.

And I thought: Why don't you just get it over with and call security. Escort them off the plane!!!

But that was not to be.

Miraculously,just as the plane took off, Satan's spawn calmed down... and slept.

Was that the end of my ordeal?

As my good friend Gel would say: Newp.

She snored like a baby troll.

Bittersweet

My Dearest Noel,

It's always bittersweet whenever I travel without you. I hate it when the person sitting next to me on the plane is not you. I love the thought though that in a matter of hours I will be in a very familiar place once again... 38-A Panay.

When I asked you the other night if you wanted anything from Manila, you said: Nothing. Just enjoy. I want you to have the best time ever with your friends and Chelou.

Great! That only means... more shopping money for me!

Please take care of yourself while I'm away. There's tons of food in the fridge for you. I have been cooking the past days so you won't be left without home cooked meals. There's lasagna, lechon paksiw, chicken adobo, beef with mushrooms and spicy spanish rice. All are labeled so you don't have to open the lids to figure out what you want to have. There's ice cream and dark chocolate caramel brownies, too.

Just remember to use serving spoons.

And if you're too tired to wash the dishes, there are paper plates in the pantry. Plastic cups, too.

If you can, please order salads to go so you can have them with your meals. I wanted to make some for you but they don't keep well. So please remember to eat your veggies.

I will see you virtually as soon as I get settled in... and live in a couple of weeks.

Love you toots,
Minh

Do What You Can. Act Because You Must.

To protect Uber Baker, this article has been deleted.... save for the last two lines of my thoughts.

The foul stench from Malacanang has penetrated the four walls of UB's sweet smelling kitchen. And she is not having any of it.

Every single act of patriotism, big or small, is needed now more than ever. We must do what we can and act because we must.

Life is Like a Batch of Siopao Dough

2007 was coming to a close.

We were moving apartments.

I wanted to mark my territory before we left 1055 Cresta Way to move into 135 Cresta Drive.

I couldn't leave the unit without making a batch of siopao. Since moving to the States, I've made siopao in every single apartment we've stayed at. And Apt 12 at Highlands should not be an exception.




So that's what I did.

With the asado filling cooling off, I went ahead and made the dough. Everything was just as it should be.

But then.

Things started to turn ugly.

Siopao dough, like any other dough you meet, is temperamental. It depends on a lot of things to be able to grow (and double in size - all cookbooks say this, right?). The temperature, altitude of where you're at, the kneading and careful handling, just to name a few. Oh and when you put in yeast that's already dead? That's the worst!

To continue: It was freezing outside and it was damp. The condition was perfect for a siopao meltdown.

And meltdown it was.

After two hours, I lifted the kitchen towel covering the bowl with the dough, looked serachingly... and I thought to myself: This is not good.

The dough was still flat! So with the theme song playing in my head, I went into Mcgyver Mode. If you lived through the 80's, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

I took the bowl with the dough and put it on the window sill, hoping that it catches the waft of hot air coming out of the heater below the sill.

I left it there. For another two hours.

After two hours, I lifted the kitchen towel covering the bowl with the dough and once again looked searchingly... and I thought to myself: This is not good.

Again, the dough was still flat! So with the same theme song playing in my head, I went into Mcgyver Mode, again. If you lived through the 80's, you'd be screaming at me by now, saying: Go find the duct tape! Believe me, I thought about that, too, but in this instance I did not think any amount of duct tape could've helped.

What to do. What to do.

And then it came to me.

Quickly, I went to the kitchen. Got the biggest stock pot I had. Filled it up with hot water. Set the bowl with the dough on top of that. And left it for another two hours.

After two hours, I lifted the kitchen towel covering the bowl with the dough and once again looked searchingly... and I thought to myself: I'm good.

It worked! The dough had doubled in size!

No and I weren't able to eat the siopao til about 9 pm that night but guess what? It was the best ever batch I've ever made!

To conclude: I try to glean from anything that happens to me. And what I learned from this experience is that life is so much like a batch of siopao dough. Sometimes it does not turn out the way you want it to. Sometimes something just happens to it that's beyond your control. But one should never give up on it. You nurture it. You tend to it. You do whatever you can to save it and...make it come alive, again.

****
This is for my Toasters.

A Very Special Gift for Yammy

December 25. Nighttime. Daytime in Manila.

Little big Tiny and Big little growing bigger Tami/Tammy were chatting...Madhatter Xioy went online. Soon and not a second too late... Amazing Rio, Awesome Lunalu, Tiny and Xioy (and Fab Taka putting in an appearance with her hair wrapped in a towel) were chatting like crazy... through a window on the web. How bizarre. And then Captain Xiapao showed himself rather quickly and off he went. He was there long enough to show his majestic profile... Tami/Tammy/Yami/Yammy was ecstatic! Even if Evil Ain was not there...

An excerpt torn out of the pages of a souped up A. in Wonderland? Nah. Just a great day in Highlands and the Kamuning Republic.

And it was not over.

The next day... "Gifts for Yammy" came in the mail...





Thank you, doggies. You are my life.

Merry Christmas!

While most of our friends have headed back home, No and I are celebrating our first Christmas here in California at a bed and breakfast in Sonoma. Christmas dinner will be at the Sonoma Meritage. We're sure it's going to be lovely, but it still won't be the same as celebrating it with our families.

During the holiday season, my family and I always look forward to a bowl of warm fabada with a hot roll. To make us feel as if we were home, I made fabada a couple of days ago. It looked and tasted like the real thing. The exception? The real thing goes down our mouths and into our stomachs in a matter of hours. Noel and I will be eating our fabada for the next six months, I think. I cooked a whole pot. For 16 people.

Merry Christmas, everyone! May you be blessed with everything that your heart desires.

Here's what we sent to our families:

Make a slideshow - it's easy!

What the... Ouch!

After the HSG, I thought: Lord, please don't ever make me go through it again...

It's the most icky-uncomfy-cringing-focus-defying-stare-at-the-ceiling-then- close-your-eyes-tightly-and-breathe-'til-it's-over-procedure I've ever had. And I thought: I won't wish this on anyone, not even on my worst enemy...(unless the enemy is a boy. then that would make revenge even more sweeter. for where else would they poke the contrapments into?!)

But then came the saline sonogram...

Ugh, whatever dignity I had left promptly flew out the the window as soon as the clamp was taken out of the sterilized drawer.

The good thing about going through the saline sonogram is that it made me forget about the HSG.

I know, wait 'til I'm in labor, right?

Right.

Well, That's one painful experience I'm actually looking forward to.