Bounty from the post office

My incoming mail is received by my sister Ellen Suzy Lolarga in Pasig because postal service in Baguio is erratic. Outgoing from the centrally located post office on downtown Session Road is reliable. But door-to-door delivery is a la tsansa. So my correspondents and I have agreed to send mail to our family's Pasig address. Suzy waits awhile for the mail to make a slight pile before sending them by courier service to Baguio. I know--it sounds like another of my impractical projects. Ray Dean Salvosa, former president of the University of the Cordilleras, once said I was one of the few he knew who still used the post office for messages. He asked why I don't use email. Well, kind sir, I do use email, mostly for business correspondence. But ever since I was a child, I was enamored with slow mail. So imagine my delight when an envelop from Virginia's Poet Laureate, Luisa A. Igloria, spilled this much paper richness--two poems by her ("Man Shoveling Snow on a Unicycle Dressed as Darth Vader While Playing Flaming Bagpipes" and "Yes, Or No"), a bookmark showing a reproduction of a Japanese painting ("Evening Snow in Kamubara"), four blank postcards, including literary ones feaaturing lines from Charles Baudelaire and Voltaire. Also in Suzy's parcel are letters from poet Marj Evasco in her refined script, artist Arlene Esperida with a quick sketch of a tiger, tiger burning bright and Ogot Sumulong and his collage. A good Friday, indeed!

Death and life in a day, plus a nightingale comes home

If it's Wednesday, the 9th of January, it must be Manila with all its traffic woes and attention on the Feast of the Black Nazarene.

My husband Rolly Fernandez and I arrive at the Cubao terminal of JoyBus at 5:30 a.m., but hustler cab drivers are ready to pounce on two senior citizens shaking off the weariness of travel. Finally, after three tries we find a cabbie willing to take us and our baggage in at only the cost of what's stated in the meter.

Dr. Florentino "Jun" Martin a.k.a. Kentucky

Where we head at that hour is for a future story. What brings us to the lowlands is the death of our brother-in-law Florentino Martin, husband to Rolly's elder sister Thelma. She and Kuya Jun, as we called the late urologist, are American citizens who had long decided to pour their savings into the Philippines by settling in Puerto Princesa City, Palawan, and building a modest hotel. Already in his 80s, KJ (shorthand for Kuya Jun) continued to practice medicine there.

Also known as Kentucky because he loved to bet at the Kentucky Derby and he practiced his profession in that state, KJ suffered a heart attack on the fourth day of the New Year. He had told relatives earlier, who had quizzed him if he had a life plan, that he wasn't all that ready to go. He wanted to die at age 94. But at age 88, his wish wasn't heeded. And so he went.

So Rolly, myself and my sister Suzy Ellen Suzanne D. Lolarga find ourselves the first visitors of Kentucky at 10 a.m. on a hectic Wednesday as he gloriously lay in state in a white coffin at the St. Alphonsus Chapel in Magallanes Village, Makati.

We say our prayers for his soul's repose quietly, and at a quarter to 3 p.m., Suzy and I take our leave to avoid the EDSA carmageddon exacerbated by the rerouting of vehicles due to the Quiapo feast.

By 4:30 p.m. friend and fellow music lover Joseph Uy is texting me, urging me to come to Oriental Pearl Kapitolyo where "tito is already waiting." Tito is Pablo Tariman, and the occasion of our reunion is a belated celebration of his 70th orbit.

Shall we call them the usual suspects as far as eating well is concerned? Here we are still awaiting our orders. Thank you for hosting, Joseph!

Joseph is just a few years younger than me, but he enjoys addressing me as his "tita." I don't know if it's because of the dust of white hair on my head or the cane I use to assist me when I stand or walk.

What I think is merienda rapidly segues to a simple lauriat dinner (no meat dish as we are groaning from it from the holidays) of birthday noodles, shrimp balls, mushrooms, cold cuts, fish fillet with veggies and Yang Chow flied lice. :-)

The stories are uncorked like bottled champagne and plans for intimate concerts in the New Year are laid.

The blogger and soprano Myramae Meneses

Joseph always has a surprise up his sleeve. A little before 6 p.m. who should walk in but soprano Myramae Tapia Meneses, back from her two years of studies at Guildhall School of Music & Drama, looking trimmer and smiling sweetly as we last remembered her.

No, she doesn't sing an aria for her Tito Pablo, but she does something better. She commits to an outreach concert in Baguio details of which will be written later when everything is ironed out, including a program that's guaranteed to make the most stoic and most hardhearted swoon in delight.

Wednesday isn't so bad. God allowed me to glimpse death (Kentucky's) and a celebration of a life (Pablo's) in a day.

May your Thursday be as meaningful!

Wallflower at a party

"It’s been a long year and it’s gone by in a flash…If you feel what I mean. Endless yet fleeting. Is it just me? I don’t think so." ~ Jane Fonda in her blog

Bebeth Timbol's camera caught me glum and unsmiling at The Peninsula Manila's celebration of "35 Years of Christmas Concert at the Pen." There was no reason to be the wallflower at the orgy, to quote the title of an early Nora Ephron book. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion.

I was in mourning for a friend who had just died and at the back of my talkative head, there was a voice nagging me about financial concerns (being a freelancer, I always have trouble collecting payables at the end of the year, but obligations had to be met).

Trust Mariano Garchitorena, the Pen's affable and indefatigable PR guy and Garch to all, to shoo such thoughts away. Even if my sister Ellen Suzanne D. Lolarga and I reserved our concert seats just a day before the show, there was space created by him for us. But he forewarned us to come early before the 5 p.m. start of the program to ensure we didn't lose those precious seats.

We did at 3 p.m. As we alighted our Grab car, who should I run into but Cecile Licad about to check in at The Pen? Here's the thing about her. Her smile was so contagious that I couldn't help but put on one on my unmade-up, gloom and doom face.

We chatted a bit, and I introduced my kid sister Suzy to her. She extended her hand enthusiastically and cried, "Oh! Your sister! Hello!" Then we went inside after having our bags checked by the security guards. She queued up quietly at the front desk, amazing my sister who thought a VIP like this world-class pianist should be spared lining up.

Suzy and I repaired to the Pen's Escolta restaurant for a late lunch. She had a humongous turkey sandwich which she thought was light, I had the reliable pancit luglug with a can of cold Coke. Soon I was feeling lighter and ready for the afternoon ahead.

When the University of Santo Tomas Singers, with tenor Arman Ferrer, sang "Ode to Joy" from Beethoven's Symphony No. 9, I realized that the certain sadness would be there, but it would write "finis" one day soon.

I let myself be carried away by other voices like those of guest soloist Christine Allado who sang, among others, "Never Enough" from the film The Greatest Showman (our New Year theme song, Joseph Uy?) and "Jingle Bells."

How could I remain the wallflower the rest of that evening that swept past me as I downed one flute glass of Moet & Chandon champagne after another.

Thank you, Garch, thank you, The Pen, for upholding a beloved tradition. May happiness grab us in unexpected places and moments in this young year of 2019!

Adventures with Sister Suzy

Our Merry Maller at the Capitol Commons Estancia something or other

Ellen Suzanne Lolarga is my number two sister (before her is Evelyn Marie or Embeng and after her are Genevieve Therese, Pinky for short, and Eugenia Celerina, just Gigi to all). I was five years old when Suzy was born.

I still remember seeing my mother going into labor. My Dad, yaya and I accompanied Mom to the University of the East-Ramon Magsaysay Medical Center. When Mom was wheeled into the delivery room on a gurney, she waved to Dad with instructions for the yaya to walk me home. That was my first memory of Su, as she was about to enter our lives.

My second memory of her was at Luneta Park in the early '60s (not Doroy Valencia's Rizal Park yet). We were near the breakwaters: Mom, the yaya, Suzy and me. I had the urge to pee. There were no portalets then. So Mom brought me to peepee by a bush, but I got bitten by ants on my buttocks, and I squealed like the piglet I can be sometimes. So Mom and yaya had to brush off the ants. Meanwhile, Suzy, a toddler by then, wandered away. When the adults realized she was amiss, it was Press the Panic Button time.

That must have been a weekend; there were just too many people (already!) then. Meanwhile, I remember being held by my hand tightly so I couldn't go astray either as Mom and yaya searched high and low for Suzy by which time, Mom being Mom, was in near hysterics. From the park we walked all the way to The Manila Hotel. It was already dark. As we approached the hotel, a car's headlights were switched on--and there was Suzy in the light, still dressed up like a doll with her bonnet and little handbag.

Whenever this story is recalled in family conversations, Gigi never fails to say that it was a sign of things to come. That is, Suzy would turn into a Merry Maller. On certain after-school days or weekends, that's what she does for exercise. Now and then she picks up a knickknack or three, most especially children's books from Book Sale that she can use for her Montessori class or to give to her grandnieces Max and Kai and grandnephew Jared.

The rest of the abubots are stashed in her aparador. Whenever there's a birthday, a wedding or similar festive occasions, she always has something ready. When we have no time to shop, we go to her and request for a suitable item when a friend or family member is having a thing (birthday or anniversary). Of course, we pay up.

Kind, gentle to all the wee ones in our lives, Suzy is shown here wiping traces of ube ice cream from Jared Susi's mouth.

This makes Suzy the perfect steward of our household budget now that Mom is retired from that. She settles the electric, phone, Wifi and water bills, does the groceries (the others contribute, too).

Every family needs a Suzy who is quiet, dependable, loves little children and lets them go to her for comfort and loving loving. And she is that silent patron of art and music, a cultural soldier, daresay I. She's gonna pinch me tonight (she's my roommate when I'm at Mom's).

Happy birth month, sis!

Suzy with tenor Arthur Espiritu, the prince of cantabile, a title given him by music reviewer Pablo Tariman, at Ayala Museum in 2013. This was at a post-Yolanda fundraising concert called "Arthur Espiritu and Friends." The other singers were sopranos Myramae Meneses and Kay Balajadia-Liggayu and tenor Nomher Nival.

Tenor Nomher Nival in a relaxed moment after "Donizetti and Friends," the last of two Opera Gala series featuring the participants in the first intensive vocal workshop/master class in the Philippines of soprano great Nelly Miricioiu Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Last Saturday (March 21), her birthday, she spent the evening with me at the Ayala Museum. Tenor Nomher Nival dedicated the penultimate number in the Opera Gala recital called Donizetti and Friends "to Suzy."

Following is the English translation of the aria, Donizetti's "Una Furtiva Lagrima," from the Italian comic opera L'Elisir d'Amore (The Elixir of Love):

A single secret tear
from her eye did spring:
as if she envied all the youths
that laughingly passed her by.
What more searching need I do?
What more searching need I do?
She loves me! Yes, she loves me, I see it. I see it.
For just an instant the beating
of her beautiful heart I could feel!
As if my sighs were hers,
and her sighs were mine!
The beating, the beating of her heart I could feel,
to merge my sighs with hers...
Heavens! Yes, I could die!
I could ask for nothing more, nothing more.
Oh, heavens! Yes, I could, I could die!
I could ask for nothing more, nothing more.
Yes, I could die! Yes, I could die of love.

Thank you, Joseph Uy and Nomher, for making Suzy happy.

How was your Sunday? Ask Sandy

Mine went so well--it had food, music, my sister's company. So well I'm a little at a loss on what to do this Monday.

Everyone else is elsewhere, and here I am caught up in volunteer work I love but choose not to get paid for. I'm crazy that way. It's the type of "work" that brings me to the dream life I've wanted: being close to the arts, especially music and literature, and the culinary arts (partaking of good food)!

As if I didn't have enough on an already full plate, Carlos Garchitorena of the Manila Symphony Orchestra Foundation just rounded me up to "woman" the ticket table at the one-night concert "The Late Romantics: Music by Strauss and Rachmaninov and Strauss" on Wednesday at 8 p.m. at the Cultural Center Main Theater. Pianist Aries Caces is the soloist. Of course, I texted him back the code word "Rachmaninov" which means a "Yes." You know the other composer's name if it's a "No." Easy to answer "Rach" if you're enticed with free seating plus snack. Babaw ba?

Interiors of Wooden Spoon. Note the spoons transformed into lighting fixtures.

That benign tumor excised out of me has done wonders. There is an urgency to everything I give myself to, whether it's sharing a meal with my sister Suzy at the new Wooden Spoon of Sandy Daza in our Kapitolyo neighborhood or learning to appreciate acoustic music at a free outdoor concert at the Carillon Plaza, UP Diliman.

It was my second visit to Wooden Spoon, and I again ordered that simple but savory appetizer of red and century egg salad with peanuts. It's described in the menu as "a delightful mildly spicy dish that will wake up your palate because of the variety of textures and flavors." It's a meal in itself if you pour it on piping hot jasmine rice.

Are you en egg lover like I am? This one's got slices of century eggs, itlog na maalat (salted duck's egg) and hard-boiled chicken's egg. When I was too young to know better, I always imagined that the Chinese cooks buried eggs for a hundred years to get the black color and the jello-like consistency.

I could've swooned and fainted from a cholesterol attack if the sauce had been made of crab fat which I don't mind having. But this dish has coconut milk with spices and red chilies. There's still some leftovers in the fridge for reheating as my afternoon snack! (My evil design means I'm not sharing it with anyone!)

Suzy and I wanted to eat healthy so we also ordered stuffed pechay (with tinapa inside) in coconut sauce. But she couldn't resist adding something more filling: the kaldereta. Members of the Lolarga clan never skip dessert, but we sometimes split it like we did with the Reyna Blanca, a coconut custard with crisp pinipig. It transported me to the white sapin-sapin that my mother's friend used to make. It had no food coloring. Like like the one at Wooden Spoon, it was arranged in layers. I can't accurately describe that elixir of my youth.

I am always thankful for a sister like Suzy. I don't have to spell out in detail to her the state of my finances. She immediately offers to treat me.

Carillon chronicles will be for another day.

Meanwhile, God bless you, Nora Daza, for raising a Sandy in your Quezon City, Makati, Malate and Paris kitchens.

A decoupage photo of Sandy Daza

Nora Villanueva Daza, doyenne of good food and fine living Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Before we take this tree down

"Do not despise these small beginnings for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin..." - Zech. 4:10

One of 10 or so angels

Red reindeer

Santa, of course

Mr. Whiskers

Frosty has pride of place

Star and angel, heralds of Christ's birth

We have this tiny tree, one of those things my husband loves to collect. As early as November last year, Rolly, my sister Suzy, my daughter Kimi and granddaughter Kai set up and trimmed the big and little trees. When I came down for breakfast, the job was done. I have a charmed life some of the time.

The little tree featured the miniatures my daughter bought as a pack some years ago Rolly misplaced the box of trimmings for the big tree, ornaments that I had collected over the years as our kids were growing. I thought that they'd make a nice legacy so I was collecting two of each item.

The small tree is special. It makes me think of e.e. cummings' Christmas poem "Little Tree" about how a tiny tree found "a special little place that was waiting for him all his life."

And so it is with our lil Christmas tree and those tiny things hanging on its bare branches.

It's the little things that count--I hope we all remember that in the new year.

Big shadows cast by little Christmas tree

The tree itself Photos by Babeth Lolarga

TBT: Our ancestors

Formal portrait of Telesfora Cariño Lolarga and her five children. Seated are: Pacita L. Romero and Febe L. Valdellon. Standing (from left): Celso, Enrique Jr. and Ernesto.

My very (emphasis on the "very") organized sister Suzy, the one who has taken it upon herself to sort things out, in a manner of speaking, in the Pasig and Baguio houses unfailingly brings out from some ignored or rarely visited corner precious finds like this formal portrait of our grandmother, Telesfora Cariño Lolarga, and her five adult children in their graduation togas. Knowing how much education was valued in her time (she was, after all, an elementary school teacher in her youth), I'm guessing that the serene smile on her face is maternal pride because her kids are all professionals, and more!

This adoring granddaughter reposts this photo on what's known as Throwback Thursday (TBT) in other parts of social media today.

When my correspondence buddy Benjie Abellera once saw Lola's picture, he compared her beauty to that of a young Kim Novak.

TBT also makes me recall writer-anthropologist-bookshop owner Padma Perez and the rueful text she sent me when her Lola Darling passed away and she had to suddenly leave Baguio for the rites. She asked if we would ever be as gracious as that generation of lolas. I could only come up with this answer: "In our own way, in our own way."

The picture used to hang in Lola's house in Lower Brookside, Baguio. It's now with us, still in its laminated form. I know that lamination is not exactly kind to photographs. How to un-laminate is the next move when future budget allows.

Meanwhile, we keep the memory of our Lola and the three sons and one daughter, who are reunited with her, evergreen in our hearts. Auntie Fe is still in Virginia, and our loving thoughts of continued good health fly to her on this Thursday.

The education of LO and her Booboo

In Baguio, I have a room with a view. It is where I work (think, write, research, communicate with story sources and colleagues). In the lowlands, I face a yellow-painted wall with a calendar tacked on it. In a few days, I'll be saying a reluctant goodbye to this room which we call The Office. The LO (little one) has turned it into her office, too; it's just that her idea of one is to haul her stuff from the nursery and play behind my chair or beside my desk. I know her development as a child is on track because she talks to her bears and dinosaurs, lately a pig named Peppa. Sings to them.

Dusk hour is when I turn on the lamp light. The desk is a mess, but as I like to say (and this is borne out by research), creatives are messy.

When the YouTube is on, she knows me well enough to request "Sumi Jo, Blue Danube." Of course, my husband is impressed, so is the LO's mother Kimi--that Kai can sing the chorus part of "Ha ha, ha ha" to Ms. Jo's singing, identify some of the orchestra instruments. After the singing of the waltz, she will shrewdly request for two videos of Hooplakidz, featuring Annie and her pet dog Ben and the monkey Mango.

It has become harder to make Kai stand still, pose decently with eyes open wide for the camera. I made her stand beside a pile of The Children's Hour, all 16 volumes of them, my own childhood companions. Topping them is The College Book of English Literature. All my books I can part with, even the ones I've written, but these ones are here to stay.

LO knows I have teaching duties in the lowlands which explains my leave-taking (I will still be in Baguio on certain weekends, if my sked permits). LO is half in awe when she asks, "You're a teacher, too, like Granny Su?" (Su is Suzy, my sister, who has been a preschool teacher for two decades, maybe more. I always add that LO's Tita Ida is a teacher also which explains why she's abroad.) To LO teachers are awesome beings--of course, that's the only way she perceives them, having gone through a Musikgarten course under RL Altomonte. LO is now enrolled in a Montessori nursery. With a nun in front of the class, teachers really are learned authority figures in her eyes.

Well, I have a lot of living up to expectations to be done--those of LO's and my new students'.

Goodbye, Paddington, the bear with whom I have established a relationship that needs no words. Photos by Babeth Lolarga

We are family

That's life. One day you're just chewing biscuits and nuts and chugging down room-temperature water, next day you're part of a feast for a princess. The princess is our youngest child Ida who, as I write, is already flying back to Singapore after a too-short visit marked by big family meals.

There were reasons for us who were in Baguio to come down to celebrate the multiple occasions: Ida's homecoming, Kimi's 29th birthday, the forthcoming Father's Day. But land trips can be boring after awhile so I played with the old reliable digicam and attempted some selfies. Kimi had always discouraged me from doing selfies because my face almost always was cropped heavily or it looked abnormally wide.

It's to her credit that she hit on the idea of a staycation at the new Tune Hotel along Shaw Blvd., Ortigas Center, just five minutes by cab from Mom's house (look for its red and white signage). She booked us early so we had adjoining rooms at a budget price. Shangri-La Plaza and SM Megamall, where we had two consecutive dinners, were within walking distance.

Old couple in a bus amuse themselves with a selfie.

First reunion dinner at Ketttle at Shang's East Wing. That's Ida in a white top with floral necklace, always well put together like her Tatay. Beside her Kimi and Kai who fell asleep immediately after dinner.

The girls knew what and how to order. Corn muffins paired with buttermilk fried chicken with two kinds of dips: old-fashioned brown gravy and maple syrup. The syrup won us.

The truffle-infused pasta with gorgonzola cheese before the serving plate emptied fast

Ida and Rolly were at Boqueria early, and we caught them enjoying their beers in mason glass jars.

Kai can be a handful during that lull between ordering and waiting for our orders to be served. Good thing my sister Suzy carries this magnifying glass in her purse.

Thumbs up for the calamares (top) and the paella Madrilena.

Our completeness completes me. And we're even color-coordinated without planning it. See you again, Ida.

Hands cup cheeks

I used to wonder why The Wee One liked to pose in this fashion for photographs. Took a lot of half scoldings, half sweet talking to make her pose more naturally. Until I saw the possible source of that hands cupping cheeks pose.


Kai with her Granny Sue this summer in Baguio Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Photo from The Glitter Fairy in Twitter

A pledge to show up here

Lately I've been asking the man of the house, my main and loyal reader, if I'm beginning to sound like I'm running out of things to blog about, that my universe has contracted to include his work-in-progress (the garden), our granddaughter and the less-than-extraordinary things that Mary Poppins (a.k.a. Suzy Lolarga) has uncovered from the house's corners and furniture undersides. Have I turned into a chronicler of home-bound goings-on and found trivia with photos for accompaniment?

I'm aware that I have been more than remiss from a bounden duty to write for a living. I seem to have fallen into the gentle trap of writing for its own pleasure. I promised myself and an editor that I would get back to livelihood writing (a.k.a. the composition of articles that will pay for themselves) in a few weeks.

Last night I discovered Lorianne DiSabato's blog and found comfort, strength in her words. She's an enabler and motivator, indeed, the show-by-example type. She reminds me to just show up.

Detail of a painting showing two women, one at a writing desk, by artist Isoda Koryusai

"Showing up at the page is like keeping watch at the bedside of a comatose relative: you watch, wait, and hold out hope because your patient might be present and alive in there, despite an unresponsive body. Just because your patient doesn’t seem to respond doesn’t mean they aren’t there: as Jesus said of a child he raised from the dead, “She’s not dead; she’s only sleeping.” On days when your own creativity seems dead, you show up and sit by the tomb, expectant. If today should be the miraculous day when your lifeless creativity should stir and then sit up in its shroud, you will be there to see it. There might not be anything you can do to help either the sun or the dead rise, but it is of the last importance that you be present just in case.

"Keeping a blog is a great exercise in showing up at the page. When you start a blog, you make an unspoken contract with your readers that you will show up and say something regularly enough to make their checking in worthwhile: a blog grown cold is like a closed and darkened house where a weary traveler had hoped for hospitality. Many days when you show up to 'feed the blog,' you feel like Old Mother Hubbard reaching into a cupboard that’s sadly bare. When you’re forced to concoct a blog-worthy meal out of meager scraps, you often end up with a stone soup simmered with bits of this and that: nothing fancy, just something simple and savory. Out of the leftovers of your days, what kind of sustenance can you cobble together if you simply continue to show up for your own life?" - Lorianne DiSabato, http://hoardedordinaries.wordpress.com/

Things that never really went away

These paper weights found their purpose again atop a stack of unsorted papers. One reads: "Know what I wish on every star?"

That's what these objects are. Once stored and forgotten, they were "unearthed" from closet nooks by our resident Mary Poppins, my sister Suzy who's a big believer in the maxim "a place for everything and everything in its place." She sorted them, trashed those that couldn't be recycled, and we spectators helped by re-purposing them.

If there's spring cleaning in the Western hemisphere, here in Baguio we're doing a massive and serious summer cleaning before the monsoon is accompanied by an attack of molds and mildew. Thanks, Suzy! Be with us again in Summer of 2015.

This mini basket is now home to paper clips and safety pins.

A stash of candles for those increasingly frequent BENECO power outages Photos by Babeth Lolarga

2 sisters at an outdoor art bazaar

Yesterday's accidental discovery on the Web while I was reconstructing the Play List (the other blogs I visit) on this space was "Art for Generations." Cecile Zamora of Chuvaness.com announced this two-day (Dec. 7 and 8) event of real estate developer Greenfield Development Corp.

The open space where the art fair's tents are set up used to be a parking space for wet and dry market consumers in what was formerly called EDSA Central.

The field of green is the same path I choose to walk on when I head for the MRT line that takes me either to Makati or Quezon City.

I've always liked living on the boundary of Pasig and Mandaluyong Cities. Every Metro Manila city is within reach of the train or bus, but with the holidays upon us and the heavy traffic, Greenfield is now where my sister-roommate Suzy and I prefer to go.

We visited each tent, then paused at one occupied by Prometheus Atelier. When I saw the business card of the lady inside, I quickly asked how she was related to the artist Gig de Pio. A daughter-in-law, she said, then she called her husband Simkin.

I asked if he was the same de Pio boy who was in a creative writing workshop I conducted at the Ateneo de Manila grade school, summer of '87, when I was on the second trimester of pregnancy (I was carrying my last-born Ida). He was that 11-year-old kid, and now he is husband, father, graphic designer and studio artist. Add portraitist to the list as Suzy and I took turns posing for him.

I told him, don't do me in a flattering light, please. He said he works on what he feels and what he sees. It seems what he saw of Suzy and me were our younger selves. Not complaining because we both liked what we saw. He even put my name on my portrait, "Tita Babeth," after signing it.

So pleased was Suzy with her portrait that she said it would serve as her new Facebook ID pic. I've placed mine in a corner of a bookshelf where I intend to point it out when Kai/Butones comes down from Baguio to visit her grandaunts, granduncles and great grandma next week. Wonder what she'll say, this very positive child whose favorite adjective is "Ganda!" Okay, I preempted her.

Do find time to drop by the bazaar, on its last day tomorrow, Sunday. Look for the guy with Promethean talent who answers to the nickname "Sim."

Suzy and her Ate B

Simkin de Pio sketches while Suzy dreamily looks away.

Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Yang love

A schoolgirl's giddiness--that best described my excitement before I hied off with my favorite concert-going companion, kid sister Suzy, to the Ayala Museum. Adding to the sense of anticipation last Saturday was it would be our first time to hear Claudia Yang, billed as Malaysia's premier pianist in the Manila Chamber Orchestra (MCO) Foundation's Great Performances Series.

We weren't disappointed. Again we felt the emotions evoked by the four Chopin ballades and 10 Rachmaninoff preludes in the youthful-looking Yang's playing: haunted longing, regret, resignation, awe at the splendor of marches with a martial beat.

With a bit of stealth, I captured some images of her at play, yes, that's right, at play with a gleaming toy, a Kawaii grand. It was only upon closer examination today that I noticed  there was an appreciative black insect flying behind the pianist during her performance.

Of her two encores, the last (her combination of the traditional Chinese "Jasmine Flower" and the Puccini operatic aria "Nessum Dorma" from Turandot) left us with a sense that our Saturday evening was another triumph of the spirit. So evocative was the music that Yang promised we might end up sleepless. Well, we almost did.

Warming up

Paul Badura-Skoda, Yang's piano professor, once said, "We need emotion, and we need something which lifts us from everyday life. We would be much poorer if we had not real music."

Pardon the pun, but one of God's small creatures seems "beedazzled" (behind Yang) by the music.

Facetime with admirers after the concert    Photos by Babeth Lolarga  

April loves

Kimi, my eldest daughter, chided me last month, around the time I was quietly bearing a low mood swing but appearing brave and normal on the outside, that I hadn't gotten around to blogging about her own daughter's latest milestone--second birthday. 

I did take pictures of that Saturday in the small open space near the house where the koi and frogs thrive in a pond that was recently widened. Our Baguio friends and neighbors came to celebrate, including violinist Lolo Guido who played the birthday song and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to an awestruck Kai. Mira Abaño also brought her guitar and showed us her strumming and singing chops.

First encounter with a violinist

Luchie Maranan captures singing pre-teener Mira on her phone's camera

The April born and her cake

There's nothing like a Kai to help one have a reason to get up and get going, no matter the compulsion to stay like a big lump covered by a woolen blanket and not face the day while wishing for a longer night. Thank heavens for little girls, indeed!

I think what helped me heal little by little was the company of another young 'un, my niece Bianca L. Susi, and forever young at heart, my sister Suzy, who has been a committed preschool teacher for over 20 years. Suzy is also good at organizing a house, that is, separating the unusables from the reusables and recyclables. Good thing she didn't throw me out during an unproductive (writing-wise) period!

One afternoon, family head Rolly treated us to lunch at Sizzling Plate, the Cariño street branch. Kai colored away while awaiting her order of sizzling bangus (as usual, she ate only the belly portion while I consumed the rest of it). It was her first time to try the restaurant's airy sans rival, and she cleaned up her plate. Same with Bianca and Suzy. Rolly got the hint--a couple of days later, he bought an entire cake that lasted less than 48 hours.

Keeping a toddler occupied at a restaurant

Having bangs trimmed

Now for the hair at the back

Quiet and still at the salon

Finishing touch

That same afternoon, I treated Kai to a haircut. She was a cooperative client, bowed her head forward or sideways, following the hairdresser's instructions. We spent the rest of the day at Burnham Park where Kai enjoyed her first boat ride on the lake. She almost refused to leave the boat after the 30-minute ride around the lake. We went around the Orchidarium to pose among the flora on exhibit and for sale.

Beautiful afternoon on the lake

Sunny dispositions

Someone's thrilled to be in a boat.

Little passenger wants another go.

Bianca's thank-you letter, received last week, summarized how we spent April in Baguio:

Dear Aunt Lizzie,

Thank you for allowing Auntie Su and me to have a more than one-week vacation in your cozy house. I really enjoyed it there, especially eating in Mackenzie's kitchen (my ice cream sandwich), playing with Kai, watching at Mayumi Cinema, the beautiful places we went to and most especially Baguio's fine weather. I also enjoyed our 2-day letter writing. Oh! I loved it whenever we would play jokes with each other in funny ways, specifically The British Accent. HAHA! Okay, I guess that's about all of it. Thank you again!

Love,
Bencky

Aunt Lizzie and Bencky were our codes for one another when we went through our British period (speaking with that accent associated with Queen Elizabeth and Dame Judi Dench).

I miss April, but not my brief low point. 

Till summer of 2014!

Just turned 11 Bianca and her niece by a yellow bamboo grove

Big kiss from Auntie Bencky

Photos by Babeth Lolarga and Bianca Susi