The irony isn't lost on me

My co-mother (kumare, the godmother of my eldest of two daughters) Mary Ann or Meran Daza Umali emailed me this image, a photo she took while passing through Lantana Street in Cubao, Quezon City. My kids call me Nanay. I told her the irony isn't lost on me mainly because I don't or hardly cook, and I imagine my Lantana Street namesake as a woman as hefty of build as I am, wearing a greasy apron and ladling piping hot arroz caldo into bowls on a rainy day such as today. To my tokaya (namesake) in Cubao, don't work too hard!

Living with cats

I don't mean men. I mean Floppy (formerly Fluffy until his hair began to shed), Hop-hop (for Hope) and Pepper (for his black and white markings) who shared my writing space today. I was at the tailend of grading first-quarter writing exercises done by 12th graders when these cats, who belong to a friend, took turns pleasantly "distracting" me. They could've enjoyed the whole house to themselves, but they seemed to have conspired to fence me in after I had just declared I was happy to have time and space to myself.

Here I am caught at the pre-breakfast hour working on something. Floppy parks himself on the narrow side of my work space. He's looking out at the neighbor's. Photo by Yasmin Almonte

Next to occupy the same space is Pepper. He may have liked the music of the Cello Guys. Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Definitely won over by the music. At some point he pads across my keyboard. I didn't dare shoo him away. I just clapped my hands and shouted. He took his time, of course. I should be so grateful he didn't pee on the computer. *Sigh*

Hop-hop helps himself to my drinking water while Pepper sprawls on top of the rest of my stuff, including the cell phone.