The face of five

I have a writing coach, and she doesn't know it. Her name is Lorianne DiSabato. Although I am just an avid follower of her blog found in hoardedordinaries.wordpress.com, I can sense when her mood takes a dip like when she wrote in her latest piece what happens when she stays away from her journal too long. She feels "rusty when I return, having forgotten the route a feeble, circuitous thought takes from brain to hand then onto the page."

My life's circumstances force me to write in almost desperado fashion for a living, especially now with illness pervading in the room where I dwell in the lowlands. My other means of sustaining the freelance writing is trying to infect older children and teens with a love of and lust for the word. These have taken me away from this space where I like to chronicle, among other subjects, the growth of my grandchild.

Makeup time came early today as I reviewed the contents of my digicam and found these selfies taken by my now five-year-old Kai on her birth week. She may sue me for invasion of her privacy when she comes of age, but by then, I'll be past caring. Hey kid, this grandma still is in love with you. Friend Rita Ledesma likes to quote the author Anne Lindbergh who once said that grandchildren are the love affair of old age.

And mine is intense! Happy birth month, Tweetie Pie!

Daytime selfie

Our "fivester" at night with just the light of a lamp

This picture of Japanese fried rice taken at the Baguio Country Club's Hamada is my reminder to Kai the Not So Wee One Anymore to eat heartily.

No excuse

I wanted to take a day off from my blog, but I read of another blogger who is firmly resolved to maintain different journals for her different projects. I thought that I had no reason to stay away from this space even if the spirit refuses to move.

I went through my picture files and found "selfies" of granddaughter and grandmother feet. They remind me that I have many promises to keep before I sleep, and among them is to keep blogging for as long as my fingers can dance on the keyboard. If Curly Tops Kai can attack each day with enthusiasm, I don't see why her 60-year-old buddy can't even on the day God rested.

Photos by Babeth Lolarga and Kai Fernandez

Be of good cheer

Excerpt from the pathologist's report

My attending surgeon, Anthony Venadero, greeted me with a huge smile and one word when I stepped into his clinic yesterday: "Benign!"

As an adjective, it can mean I'm kindly, friendly, warm, approachable, tenderhearted. Which I think I am in real life. But then that's a personal opinion.

In medical terms, "benign" is also good news: "(of a disease) not harmful in effect: in particular, (of a tumor) not malignant.
synonyms: harmless, nonmalignant, noncancerous; benignant
"a benign tumor"

Well, that's that. I'm moving on, thankful, grateful, appreciative, relieved and with a song in my heart to praise the Big Guy who decided to give me another chance: "Thank you, Lord!"

Yesterday at 4 p.m., alone in the house, I toyed with the camera to see what selfies I could bring out given that hour's soft lighting.

Here they are depicting the subject before, during and after the report (of course, this is what's known as a reenactment).

Pre-operative state: worried but trying to be brave about everything

Recovery period: still a trace of anxiety but confident in her faith

Happy to emerge from the darkness of body and soul Selfies by Babeth Lolarga