Friday, July 30, 2010

♥♥♥ for lack of a better title!!!

Well, maybe one more story!!! I almost fell off of our living room couch the other day, when Kumar reminded me that I needed to get a dress for an upcoming wedding that we've been invited to. It's not that Kumar doesn't like to shop. Are you kidding? Very early into our dating days, I had discovered that he was a seasoned shopper himself! I clearly remember one of the first few times we hit the mall. He had insisted that I try on a dress, although I couldn't be bothered that day. My trained eye could easily tell that the dress looked just about right off the rack. But no, he patiently waited outside the dressing room while I shed off layers upon layers of the typical winter attire - outer coat, cardigan, blouse, skirt and finally peeled off the cumbersome tights, to try on the dress in compliance! Yes, Kumar, as you can see is of a very rare male breed. And he totally had me from that day on (lol)!

So going back to the subject, I wasn't surprised at my husband's reminder because it was out of character, but because he had been a bit stressed out over our finances. As some of you already know, it had been just a little over a month that I had been back to work. I was actually due back last February but I had asked my boss for an extension of a couple of months more because of a situation that had arisen. Of course my benefits had run out too in February, and we were managing somewhat with the the lapse of a second income feeding into our cash flow. So I didn't feel comfortable asking Kumar for extras, you know, in other words, shopping money! But now that I'm back at work I have Kumar's blessing to shop as I please (don't worry, I'm not irresponsible that way and besides I look for bargains, bargains, bargains - like my latest acquisition: gorgeous, gorgeous Guess black and beige patent leather wedge platforms, originally priced at $160.00 which I got on liquidation for $36.00, super versatile which can be dressed up or down!!!). That was actually one of the conditions that we had agreed upon - that if I were to return to work, I wasn't supposed to hear a peep out of him conplaining about my shopping escapades as long as they were within reasonable limits. You see, the six months prior to my return to work, I had spent awash in mixed emotions as a very, needless to say, tiresome debate whether to go back or not transpired in my head, guilt-ridden at the thought of having another person raise my children. Of course by now, I am actually glad that I have. I totally agree with Uma Thurman's frumpy mom lead character's statement in the movie "Motherhood" that "there is something validating about having a real job, besides the mothering one!" (or something to that effect). This I actually gleaned from an odd snippet of the movie that I was able to catch amidst toys strewn all over the living room floor, a sinkful of dirty dishes, between doing two loads of stainy laundry & getting supper going last night, the dialogue, barely audible above Maya's whiny complaining that I change the channel back to Nick Jr. and Jaden's increasingly persistent clamoring for attention. I swear, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I watched what could very well have been the story of my life unfold before my own eyes on Kumar's flatscreen baby.

So did I set off to find the dress yet? Well, yesterday I swung by Winners which as I had already explained on a previous post, is Canada's lame excuse of an answer to the States' Target, more with the intent of taking advantage of the end of summer season's sale and get sandals for next summer to replace the ones I've literally worn to the ground this year. So yes, I found the Guess beauties which I'm wearing as I write, but also chanced upon some Nine West pumps. Again my (avid) followers might vaguely recall a post where I explained at length how I had settled on a pair of Nine West pumps over a beautiful pair of real Gucci's. But honestly by now, those Nine Wests (that are stowed beneath my desk, also as I write) have grown on me even if they pale in comparison with the Gucci's. They just totally make my office outfits. Now while those are a completely classic pair of black pointy pumps, the ones I literally unearthed yesterday under a tangled mess of strappy sandals were almost identical to the ones I had, the only difference was that these ones were more fashion forward and had what I like to call shackle-y straps that go around the ankle in a bondage-y way which is not only for streetwalkers these days but is all the rage now! Of course it seemed like a bit much to get two pairs on the same day especially after having to dole out a goodly sum of moola because of a busted airconditioner, but then I suddenly and conveniently remembered Kumar's reminder and so to justify the purchase, I figured, I would pull out my old LBD standby (a black ruffly halter Ralph Lauren which I got a couple of years back at an outlet somewhere in Northern Ontario) to wear to the wedding and get the shoes instead!!! Mind you, I have another dress option: a silky spaghetti strapped dress with a poufy balloony hemmed skirt which I got from Axara (Paris) for a wedding last year. The only problem was I had just given birth to Jaden at the time, and have since dropped a couple of dress sizes. Sure, I could have it taken in, but the only other problem is that the bride of this wedding was also present at the same wedding last year. Now, I highly doubt it if
she would remember or even care for that matter, but I really wouldn't want to risk it, so that dress is a total write-off.

I'll stick with the LBD - can't go wrong with that. So yesterday, I did get the other Nine West pumps. They weren't exorbitantly pricey, not at all, very reasonable, in fact, and again totally versatile, maybe a bit on the edgy side...but just awesome!!! What did Kumar think of the arrangement? That is was fair enough, and that's probably one of the reasons why we've been married for so long (lol)?! This time, I'll leave you on festive note and not on one of me pining for silly Gucci's: last Tuesday, July 27th and two beautiful kids later, Kumar and I had been married eight years. We still haven't done the actual celebration, but Kumar has it all planned out: a dinner at which restaurant he won't tell of course, we'll probably go see Salt and then Kumar's got us reservations at the brand spanking new Le St-Martin Hotel Particulier - whoa, TMI, I know, I know, but before that conjures up any funny images in your mind, I bet you that we'll most likely conk out in 2 seconds flat so don't get too excited!;)

Kumee: I probably don't tell you this enough, but I love you so much! I rely so heavily on you, and you've always always been there for me, through thick and thin. Thank you for championing my cause! I admire you for your maturity and for your Godfearing qualities. You are a wonderful hubby and an examplary daddy to our little cuties. I am so proud of us!!!

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

:) ♥♥♥

I wanted to apologize to those who randomly stumbled across my blog and stayed long enough to read about the whole airconditioner thing and to my followers who voluntarily checked out what's new even without my usual shameless prodding to do so and had read on....I didn't mean to sound so whiny and self-absorbed and to bore you guys to death. Yes, I do realize that there are far worse things in life and no, I'm not indifferent to the less fortunate plight of millions of others out there. I know nobody deserves to hear my whine about my first world problems. But don't you hate it when something turns out bad when it totally needn't but does all because of the incompetence of, let's just say, certain ones we know!!! I mean, if you don't know the first thing about something, why pretend???

I don't know whether this summer's, err, sweltering weather (forgive the pun!!!) is recordbreaking and that it will go down in our history books as such, but I do know for sure that for us, the Vaitheewaran family, summer 2010 will always be remembered as the fateful summer our airconditioner broke down!!! With that being said, I promise that my next post will be on a more interesting, current and socially relevant subject as I feign smartness and perhaps in a deductive style or something - like the Kumee series. I promise not to wax poetic or subject you guys to boring narratives for awhile....until then!!!


Tuesday, July 27, 2010

On What Has Now Become a Ridiculously Overly Drawn Out (and not to mention) Boring A/C saga

So heeding Stavros' friend advice, I figured that my best bet would be to contact our Condo Association to see whether they could give me some trade contacts. As it turns out, there had been a precedent case like this in our building and they told me that to repair the problem, I could expect to pay around $400.00. Kumar took care of getting in touch with the technician recommended by the association. Unfortunately, the technician apologetically told Kumar how swamped they were and that he'd only be able to come in about a week's time.

We were debating on whether to tell the service guy about what Stavros' friend had done or not. It's not that we wanted to withhold information so as not to have the a/c's warranty deemed void. Regardless of whether the airconditioner's warranty was up or not, we wouldn't normally omit details like that. If anything, if indeed the water being poured into the unit had actually made matters worse, we wanted this problem addressed as well, but we were worried that the service people would capitalize on this knowledge and tell us that this and that would have to be done and that they would charge us exorbitantly. We weren't sure either, if for the amount the association had estimated, we should just get a new portable airconditioner. But then we figured, the central one would have to be fixed anyways.

So a week passed and the service people finally came on Kumar's day off. Kumar excitedly called me at the office just to let me know so right away I asked him whether he took down the portrait that I had since hung back up beneath the A/C. Kumar incredulously replied "Gosh, I wonder sometimes what you think of me! "Of course I removed the picture!" He shot back. "Huns, I was just making sure" I teased! (Poor Kumar!) The service people spent about a good hour and half to fix the airconditioner, tested and re-tested it and then finally satisfied that it was working well, issued us a bill for $240.00 which Kumar paid and then left. Kumar picked me up from the office and the kids from the daycare later that afternoon and when we got home, he immediately turned the a/c and we relished the cool air.

All is well that ends well, right? Wrong. The next day was actually a cooler one with a more seasonal temperature of 27 degrees Celsius and not humid, so we didn't even have a need for the airconditioner, but the following day was a different story. It was another scorcher. Jaden had fallen asleep on our way home from the daycare. So when I got home I put the a/c on again to keep him from waking up drenched in his own perspiration as he always does, but the unit was taking longer than usual to cool the place. When I checked, the air coming out of the a/c wasn't even cold and sure enough, Jaden woke up in a fit. I swear I was at my wit's end!!! The next day was Saturday and I had Kumar call the service people but they explained to him that they didn't work weekends and that it would have to wait until the following week. It really didn't help that the forecast for the day was 30 degrees but would feel more like 35 with the humidex, so that afternoon I took the kids for a little outing to Future Shop a bit fearful that the rumors that all airconditioners in the entire city had been sold out was true, but was relieved to find a prominently displayed stack of some portable a/c's at the store. Without wasting another minute, I made a beeline for them, chose one, paid for it, enlisted the help of an employee to help me fit the massive thing into our tiny car and drove the two blocks back home.

I waited for Kumar to get home from work and had him haul the box upstairs and then we both immediately got cracking on installing the unit. It was fairly easy to do, the only problem was the kids hovering around us while we worked and not to mention the muggy heat that was making Kumar sweat bullets. And then it was time for the moment of truth! With bated breath, I watched Kumar as he pushed the "on" button of the remote. With 8,000 BTU's it was powerful enough to cool our bedroom, the only downside is that it makes an incredible racket (lol). That night, I couldn't hear myself think as I attempted to replay the events of the day in my mind and mentally put together an outfit for the next day and I lost count several times of the fluffy sheep I was counting but when I finally fell asleep after what seemed like an eternity, I did so like a baby and the next thing I knew, it was morning! So all is well that ends well, finally? Well, we still have no choice but to get the central air fixed anyways, especially in case we decide to just sell and move out of the condo, but in the meantime, I might as well invest in those nifty little earplugs...I'm just wondering now which color ones should I get???

Friday, July 23, 2010

On What's Becoming an A/C Saga....

The original title of this post was supposed to be "all is well that ends well" because I thought that the problem with our busted centralized A/C had finally been resolved....I guess not! Now, I'm just wondering who's playing this sick joke on me? Seriously, is it "pick-on-Aimee" month because I never got the memo, nope, they haven't cc'd me...but then again, why would they???

Re: the busted A/C - so it got pushed to it's limit during the heatwave two weeks ago that was really leaving my naturally wavy hair with way too much to be desired. I know Kumar had noticed a trickling sound coming from the unit which I dismissed as the refrigerant circulating inside it's system. As it turned out, it was water actually leaking out right onto our family portrait hung beneath it and so I panicked. What you've got to understand is that we live on the top floor of our six-storey building (that affords us a pretty nice unobstructed view especially at night of our section of the city and of the annual fireworks competition, I might add!) so the sun relentlessly beats down on the roof directly over our heads. Our tiny condo is also situated on the southeast wing of the L-shaped edifice, so we soak up and trap in all of the morning sun which is fine really in the winter when it helps to dispel my SAD symptoms and keeps our heating costs down but come summertime, just renders our place perfectly conducive to hydroponically growing tomatoes, without a working A/C, that is.

I immediately thought of our friend Stavros, who had once mentioned that he worked with airconditioners at one point, so I had Kumar contact him. Stavros in turn referred us to someone whom he felt might be better-equipped to help us. I was elated to say the least, when Stavros' friend agreed to pass by the very same afternoon. When he arrived, I briefly explained to him how the airconditioner was leaking. He asked for a glass of water so I presumed he was thirsty and was about to get him some filtered water for him to drink but he had already helped himself to a glass from the kitchen tap which, before I knew it, he proceeded to quite deftly pour into the a/c to see where the leak was coming from. I honestly didn't think anything of what he had done. He seemed to know what he was doing. I figured there just had to be a method to his madness. Finally, he told me that a hose might be blocked and might need to be cleaned, and that I should get a hold of the builder to find out exactly where the connections are from the unit to the building's plumbing/HVAC system. After which, he took off.

As the day afternoon progressed, it got warmer and warmer until it reached a point that I just had to turn the a/c on. It was working fine otherwise before and I was just using a basin to catch the leaking water - my main concern was the water damage that could result to the drywall, baseboards and floor. But this time, after all of the water that Stavros' friend had poured into the unit came gushing out, it started to make funny sounds as well, noticeably different from it's usual deep drone. Feeling unsettled, I consulted the manual to see what could possibly be wrong this time. I actually came across the section on "caring for your airconditioner" and was rather surprised to see the explicit warning to "never put water into the unit" under an illustration of little boy shooting water into an airconditioner with a water gun with a big black X drawn over it. I mean, how much clearer can instructions get???

Now Stavros' friend didn't even look at the manual. I wasn't sure anymore whether he had actually exacerbated the problem or if it was just a coincidence and that the airconditioner was bound to break anyways. I'm telling you, he seemed competent enough, the only problem was, sure he worked with airconditioners, except only with ones in Greece, though (lol). But you would think the way airconditioners are built and function everywhere is universal, no??? Paranoid that the unit might short and that someone might get electrocuted, I shut down altogether the a/c's circuit breaker in the fusebox. Meanwhile, as a temporary solution, Kumar borrowed a fan from his mom, but with temperatures reaching 40 degrees Celsius (104 degrees Farenheit) with the humidity index factored in, all the fan did was blow around the hot air. The next morning I woke up feeling like a semi-trailer had hit me, or to describe it more aptly, that some invisible fists had pummeled me all night be continued....

Sunday, July 18, 2010


Because of a my unshakable slothdom, most of the info I share comes from what I can remember off the top of my head - facts and figures from skimming through Wikipedia and/or simply from just don't quote me on a lot of the stuff! Today I thought I'd blog a bit on one of, if not my favorite, past-time: Shopping! Yesterday, my dear friend Patty, came up with the bright idea of hitting the mall in order to keep cool with the kids. You see our A/C had been pushed to it's limit last week & hasn't been working since. This whole thing about the busted A/C is actually another blogworthy subject, but I'll save that for next time. Today I just want to focus on shopping.

Now one of my all-time favourite boutiques is Zara. You might have never paid much attention to this before, but it will probably suddenly click now that I'm telling you that Zara does not adverstise. Yeah, my reaction exactly! That's because when the Spanish magnate, Amancio Ortega, founded the chain in the mid-70's he opted to skip the publicity that his peers spend big bucks on and used the money instead to open up more stores - He was certainly confident that the times were auspicious and that his maverick business strategy would work and that he would have a huge patronage in no time! So that's why you never see billboards, tv commercials and so forth of Zara. You'll also never see a runway show because they concentrate on understanding what their consumers really want now and on delivering it to them rather than promoting predicted trends for the next season. Because they take care of their own design, production and distribution, Zara can churn out fresh and trendy styles faster that you can say, "houndstooth wool and cashmere blend coat!" or "paisley print halter silk top!" or "gold strappy gladiator sandals!" or "black chiffon sheath dress to be cinched with a funky studded belt and paired up with sexy stilleto sandals!!!" that is, around five weeks tops (lol), while it can take months for most companies to come up with a new collection and actually have the finished goods on their shelves. Moreover, when a certain style doesn't sell, they pull it out of the stores right away and cancel any further orders for the same. No single style stays on the sales floor for more than a month. According to Wikipedia, an average high-street store in Spain expects customers to visit three times a year. That goes up to 17 times for Zara, owing to this constant influx of fresh styles. I'm not too sure what the averages are for their boutiques in other countries, but having raked in 6.824 billion € in revenue in 2008, I wouldn't be too worried. No, I have no idea what this figure translates to in terms of profit margins in their books or in comparison to their competition, or in relation to the industry as a whole, but that's a lot of money!!!

I like Zara simply because it is very fashion-forward and affordable - it totally fits my pocketbook. I like how complete outfits and actually an entire season's wardrobe is grouped together on racks with the matching footwear perched either above the clothes or beneath them with accessories strategically displayed around the store - eliminating a lot of the guesswork which is especially great when you're a busy mom with not too much time to shop. Of course it's a different story come sale time when it always seems like a search party had ransacked the place, leaving not a single garment unturned. Well, that is exactly what happens, the stores do get combed by a cohort of girls of all ages, from the pre-pubescent to the menopausal (although I think it is the hormonally charged members of the 18-35 age group that do the most damage!) I know this is the beef a lot of my friends have against the store, particularly a neat-freak friend of mine who won't even bother going in altogether because of that. I think that's sad becasue she's really really missing out. Personally, I would never abandon Zara for that reason, what turns me off even more is when sales associates at certain other boutiques snarl and growl at you in a rabid dog manner for messing up a neat pile of clothes they had painstakingly folded. Are you kidding me? It's tons of fun rummaging through piles upon piles of sweaters, and flipping through racks after racks of dresses and digging into mounds and mounds of shoes. It's just a matter of inspecting the merchandise first to ensure that it is intact, checking for missing buttons, detached zippers, tears, lipstick stains and even BO. I know, I know, it's just because I had a nasty experience once when I tried on an outfit that stank of that, realizing it a bit too late after it had already touched my skin, talk about gross! So what I do now is give all clothes a little discreet sniff-over before I hit the dressing room. No, you don't necessarily have to bury your face into the fabric and smell away as if it's a Downy commercial, you would just end up getting high on the sizing chemicals that way. Just a quick whiff and you should be safe...better that than sorry, I always say! (I swear I almost have it down to a science! I think it's good practice and encourage everyone else to do likewise!) So, with all of that being said, I like Zara for how they are able to strike a perfect balance between ultra-feminine and trendy in their designs while keeping them reasonably priced....

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Toy Story 3 (uhm..spoiler alert!)

When one's stricken with writer's block and has no clue what to blog about, movies might seem like that bottomless well to draw ideas from. The only reason why I haven't reviewed one is because I haven't seen one in ages! Honestly, what's the use of a review on a movie whose sequel is already out? Sure, I was able to catch the very tail-end of G.I. Joe two months ago, and some odd snippets here and there of Ghosts of Girlfriends past over the past two weeks on the Movie Network, but never a full-length movie, let alone at the theater!!! So needless to say, I was beside myself with excitement to go see Toy Story 3 last night with Maya at the Guzzo by us, albeit pathetically almost a month after it's North American release (lol) The original plan was for my mother-in-law to take care of Jaden while the three of us went. But at the last minute, Kumar volunteered to take care of the baby while Maya and I bonded over some popcorn and apple juice and Toy Story. You see, Kumar had never seen the first two installments, so he figured he might not enjoy it as much. My husband is a movie fiend and takes movie watching very seriously. Like the time we went to see Batman Begins. He actually spent a good two weeks watching the whole Batman institution in increments in order to prep himself prior to watching the movie. But Toy Story 3 is just as enjoyable as a stand-alone movie unlike some sequels that really just pick up from where the the previous one left off.

I was really looking forward to see the movie because I knew that if it was anything like the first two, it would be awesome. Not all animated films are inherently funny by virtue of their being "cartoons". Trust me, there are tons out there that bombed at the box-office, and to me personally, just didn't weigh in much on my funny-scale either. Like the Bee Movie (sorry Maya!) for example. Some of them can be really anti-climactic and even downright depressing. But that's probably just me, from having watched them over a gazillion times. But going back to Toy Story, I was introduced to the first two when I babysat a good friend's daughter, Briana, as a favor, who was around 2 or 3 years old at the time when the movies first came out in the late 90's. It might have taken Pixar forever to come up with the 3rd part but it was well worth the wait. The movie kicks off with the desperate last-ditch concerted effort the principled and serious Woody (Tom Hanks does his voice), the simply hilarious Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), charming and spunky Jessie (Joan Cusack) and the rest of the cute and endearing gang pull to get their owner, Andy, who is now all grown-up and is soon off to college, to play with them. Just watch the movie to see how they inadvertently end up at the Sunnyside Daycare, where they are warmly received by a deceptively kind, fatherly, cuddly teddybear named Lotso. You'll be feeling nostalgic for the toys you grew up with like the inseperable Mr. & Mrs. Potoato Head, and Barbie & Ken, who I might dare call metro!!! Look out for cameo appearances by the totally classic Fisher Price corn popper and talking telephone, but just be prepared, too for the creepy Chucky-ish doll and the rather frightening shreiking, cymbal-clashing monkey (don't worry, before the end of the film you'll understand where they're all coming from!). You'll also marvel at the group's seamless teamwork as they carry out their intricate plan to escape Sunnyside and narrowly cheat almost certain destruction at a landfill. There are also some heartrending scenes during which I had to discreetly wipe away some copious tears rolling down my cheeks to keep my four year old daughter from seeing me cry!!! All in all, if you want my two cents on the film, I say go watch it if you haven't done so already - it's definitely a must-see for kids and grownups alike and everyone else in between!!!

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The D-I-Y demi-god

You don't understand, this situation didn't need to happen. The door handle had been loose for sometime by then and Kumar kept putting off fixing it. I guess, I can say that his lack of handy skills comes with the territory of being metrosexual and just as how he can't cook to save his life, he can't fix a leaking tap either even if his life depended on it. These are things that he likes to leave up to the pros. It's a good thing he has no qualms about shelling out money for repairs and servicing. And the time I decided to paint our kitchen & bathroom, he was pretty sure I'd manage if he left me to my own devices and left me he did!

Don't get me wrong Kumar is not completely helpless, I must give it to him for assembling all of the IKEA stuff we have in our house. Like the Hopen bedroom set, or the kids' identical Malm chest of drawers, and even Maya's Disney Princess bed from Toys r Us. All without even consulting the instructions - couldn't blame him, though, IKEA manuals are infamous for being the most ambiguous set of directions out there, with the (Swedish?) stick men and totally superfluous steps! But I've always wondered if the extra screws and bolts he'd always end up with are really "extra" for just in case, like the rivets that come with his Seven jeans or the extra PETA-approved faux ivory buttons for his Boss shirts!!! Or whether they are really meant to go somewhere to actually reinforce the furniture??? He takes great pride in the mammoth feat of having hung up most of the pictures on the walls around our place and always believes that accomplishing the gargantuan task of changing burnt-out lightbulbs merits a pat in the back and my generous praise which I'm usually willing to shower him with.

But yesterday's incident left me exasperated beyond belief. And yet, I don't think my hubby's a lost cause either, he just might turn out to be like my dad one day. According to my mom, my father, wasn't handy either in the beginning of their marriage. In fact, once he had not only hammered but sawed his own thumb!!! But soon after purchasing their first home, he morphed into a D-I-Y demi-god. The feathers in my dad's figurative hard hat include finishing the basement of our old house replete with a tufted upholstered bar. Hanging up wallpaper in very room, adding a shower to the downstairs toilet/laundry room. Landscaping our front lawn with a rock garden, laying unistone on our driveway, and building a gazebo in the backyard from scratch - among other things - well, maybe with a little help from my uncle, who, he himself once surprised my aunt by building a deck while she was away in Europe for three weeks! He rewarded himself after with a brand new barbecue, which I think you'll agree he totally deserved!!! I can't even begin to tell you all of the work my dad did on our old house in the Philippines, of course he built a cute little palapa in our backyard there, too! But that's my parents' generation. And while renovation and construction and it's many trades and subtrades will always be around, more and more kids are choosing and pursuing white-collar careers over the more hands-on ones. And while my mom has such a green thumb, and can sew and cut hair as well as she can give injections, I can't even get a single houseplant to thrive, let alone plant a whole rose garden. I can't sew buttons back onto my blouses, let alone hem pants that almost always come too long for me off the rack, nor cut Jaden's bangs straight but I do get deliriously excited when my spreadsheets balance!

No, I don't expect Kumar to tile a backsplash behind our stove for me or add mouldings to the kids' room any time soon - who has the time anyways in this day and age? But for starters, if he could invest in an Allen key set and tighten all the door knobs and handles in the house to prevent another incident such as the one that took place yesterday, needless to say, I'd be one really happy woman!!!

Monday, July 12, 2010

A Bad Day!!!

I think I might've spoken too soon when I wrote on my FB update around three p.m. yesterday that I was having an "awesome 95% percent offline day." Well, it was true that up until that time I was having a good day, or should I rather say, a productive one with my computer off, a far cry from the day before which was a colossal waste and total write-off! But little did I know, that I was going to encounter another snag that was going to put a damper on the rest of my day.

I was all pumped up and determined to go, kids in tow, to our weekly congregation meeting. But when I got to the car, I realized that I had left my purse at home, so I headed back upstairs with Jaden in my arms and Maya trailing behind, to get it. Unfortunately, when I tried to open the door to the condo, alas, it wouldn't open! Sure, I was able to unlock the door with the key, but the handle just wasn't latching or catching, or biting or oh, whatever the proper term is!!! So, after several fruitless attempts, all three of us trekked downstairs again to enlist the help of our concierge. Of course, he wasn't home and neither was any of the people I vaguely know in the building - you know the people you bump into in the elevator every now and then to whom you politely smile & nod and wish "a nice day" to before you part ways? Like the Sri Lankan family who lives down the hall or the interracial couple in 607, or even the "shoe lady" next door. Nope, no one - it was Sunday.

So, I went back to the car in the garage, strenuously hauled the kids' tandem stroller out of the trunk, strapped them in and thought I'd take them to the park to kill some time or to be more exact, the two hours left until Kumar would get home from work - only problem was that I was all coiffed and made-up, dressed in a crisp white Zara blouse and a navy pencil skirt. Plus, I had three-inch heels on, the same ones I had described before - the ones that would cram and contort my feet into the most unnaturally narrow twin peaks, yes those! So there was no way I could make it to the park that was the equivalent of about five blocks away with the mid-July, afternoon sun beating down on us - how dumb would I look anyways??? So finally, deciding against making the arduous trip, I threw my arms up in resignation and feeling utterly dejected, plopped myself onto the decorative bench in the lobby area of our building to wait it out. Maya came up with a novel idea to entertain the three of us. "Mommy," she said, "let's count the leaves of the plants!" she beamed, that flanked the fancy bench. "Sure," I said, and mustering up all of the strength I had left in me, I joined in and feigned some enthusiasm and tried to count the leaves as animatedly as I could with her. Of course, there were only so many leaves to count, especially with Maya skipping her numbers, jumping from 13 to 18 and so on and so forth, and with Jaden no longer finding it to be amusing his game of having me pick up and give back to him the car keys over and over again, there I was locked out of our own house, had missed my meeting, with no money, no phone, with nowhere else to go and with two kids that were getting increasingly restless by the minute....

Why do I make it sound like it was the end of the world? With the world's actual deplorable state of affairs, with the millions of people in far much more dire straights than myself just then, and if I might add, with everything currently going on in my life, you'd think I'd be able to put things into proper perspective. But yesterday, for some reason, I just couldn't see past the unpleasant situation I found myself in....

Thursday, July 8, 2010

A Day at the Spa (part 3)

So after having cleaned up and towelled off after being smothered in warm, smooth and delectable chocolate from the neck down and back into the plush Spa Diva bathrobe, I joined Francine outside who was patiently waiting by the door, and followed her as she led me to yet another dimly-lit room where some chirping bird nature music this time was playing in the background. It was facial time! I got comfy on the bed as Francine prepped her stuff. I'll assume that pretty much everyone, both male and female has had a facial at some point in their lives either at home or professionally so I'll spare you the boring and even graphic details of her gently coaxing out some _______ out of my pores (eeeewww!!!) It's a dirty job, I know, but, hey, someone's got to do it!!!

Anyways, after the facial, it was time for the finale, Swedish massage. Francine's job was done, and she turned me over to her colleague, Josee, her name was, if my memory serves me right (I'm pretty good for that!). She wasn't petite nor slim, like the rest of the Spa Diva girls I had met so far. Josee was a bubbly lady and of the sturdier stock, imperative for a masseuse, or at least an ideal physical quality that would serve them well in their chosen occupation, and make it a tad easier. This time I was asked to lie in a prone position on her massage table/bed. So hoisting my vertically-challenged self up onto the special bed, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled and attempted to relax and render my whole body limp. Josee's strong hands felt sooo good as she kneaded away and worked on my back muscles that I had somehow worked into knots over time. I was getting pretty drowsy and was dozing off into a semi-conscious, lucid dreamy state, still fully aware of the soft, gentle rain nature music emanating from the built-in ceiling speakers overhead, yet unable to keep my increasingly heavy eyelids from shutting close. And just as I was about to transition into the deep sleep/pre-REM stage, I was suddenly awakened as Josee, started to wack, rather a bit too zealously, my rear-end with the blades of her hands, in repeated karate chops. I mean, what was up with that??? I really should have done my homework in order to know what I was in for, when the gift-certificate said, a "one-hour Swedish massage. I broke into an uncontrollable giggling fit, that quickly progressed into an unrestrained, hearty belly laughing session, my
whole body shuddering, making Josee's bed rattle. My laughter was undoubtedly infectious for Josee ended up in stitches, too and after we both finally regained a semblance of composure, she confided that she never had a client like me and that I just made her day! Well of course she's never had, there is only one special (naive) me in the entire world! And then the hour was up all to soon just as I dreamily concluded that I could totally get used to being fussed and spoiled rotten that way, culminating my fabulous day at the spa courtesy of my sweet and loving hubby.

I left Spa Diva feeling so relaxed to the point that my legs felt like rubber that I swore would just buckle under me at any moment. Good thing Kumar was waiting for me to steady my stupurous gait. Yes, I was drunk - drunk with this all-enveloping sense of calm and tranquility. Kumar greeted me with a peck on the cheek and remarked appreciatively at how I smelt faintly of chocolate, and paid me a compliment on the "ethereal" glow my skin was apparently exuding (lol). We got into the car together and I glanced over to Maya in her carseat in the back, and admired the equally heavenly contentment so evident in her sleeping face, and expressed my gratitude to Kumar once more for the thoughtful treat and a half, without the happy-dance this time, but with a barely audible, whispered, "Thank You" as I drifted off into a deep and dreamless slumber...

A Day at the Spa (part 2)

D-day Aug 5, 2007: I spent the entire morning getting myself ready and packed Maya's diaper bag with two extra complete changes of clothes (just in case), a variety of snackies - cheese cut into cubes, animal crackers, and washed grapes all individually packed in little Ziplock baggies, two sippy cups - one filled to the brim with watered down juice, the other filled with milk, a few toys for entertaiment, a bib, some wipes, her bum cream and of course, diapers and handed the arsenal to Kumar to bring with him to our friends' place where he would be hanging out with Maya, while I got spoiled and pampered. We set off to the spa's downtown location and immediately upon arrival, I bid my hubby and little girl goodbye and without missing a beat, happily skipped over to the receptionist's area and presented the pretty girl dressed entirely in black, my gift-certificate/passport to bliss. Soon after, I was met by another girl also dressed in a smart black suit who entrusted me with a little golden key and led me to my private "room" for the day. It was rather modest in size, occupying about the same area of my workstation. Before writing this post, I had actually asked yesterday one of our construction project managers, Moreno, to eyeball and give me a rough estimate of the square footage of my cubicle but being the greatand not to mention handy pm that he is, he immediately produced a measuring tape he had on his person and actually measured away. It came up to approximately 70 square feet. At any rate, the room at the spa was perfect with it's beautiful built-in in vanity table. There I changed out of my clothes and got into the plush, oversized, white bathrobe and slipped into the equally plush "pantoufles," checked out the little bottles of freebies :), gave my refection in the mirror a once-over, went out, locked the door behind me and slipped the golden key into the deep "SD" monongrammed pocket of my bathrobe and proceeded to the beautifully decorated waiting area, helped myself to some cranberry juice, took a swig, plopped myself onto one of the comfy couches and perused the lunch menu. I was rather worried that their healthy offerings might not satisfy my voracious breastfeeding mom's appetite and almost regretted not having Kumar swing by McDo's drive thru for a Big Mac on the way, but finally decided on having Gravlax with cream cheese on a 12 grain bagel with red onions sliced into rings topped off with a couple of capers, garnished with a sliver of lemon & a sprig of dill, and a Mesclun salad on the side, all to be washed down with some "blossom" tea. Now blossom tea is not an actual flower (so don't go cutting some peonies now to submerge in hot water to go with some scones at high tea!) but is actually an age old Chinese art form involving the sewing together of regular tea leaves into a tight little bud that unfurls as it is steeped. It is indeed beautiful, but for some odd reason all I could think about was how it eerily resembled a peyote button. I wondered, this has got to be the way the real, adulterous, self-indulgent, desperate and filthy rich housewives deal with the emptiness they must feel from leading lives devoid of any noteworthy and meaningful contribution to the betterment of society but immediately stopped myself on that thought, since after all, I wasn't there to wax opinionated but to relax. So I finished up the rest of my plate whilst catching up on the latest fashion trends with some glossies, and then waited for the aestheticican who was assigned to me. In a short while, another pretty girl who introduced herself as Francine, arrived and led me to a dimly lit room which this time had a shower head, tiled flooring and a drain and was furnished with a bed. Here I was given some funny disposable undies to wear and was given instructions to lie supine on the bed until she returned, to which I somewhat reluctantly complied. I laid there, waiting and craning my neck towards the door to listen for some footsteps audible above the lapping wave nature music. And after what seemed like the awkwardest eternity, Francine came back with which appeared to be a fondue pot of chocolate, which was heated up to the ideal temperature, set it down beside the bed and suddenly broke out a spatula-like implement, dipped it into the creamy, warm chocolate, and began to expertly and thoroughly spread the decadent stuff all over my body, in exactly the same fashion I would frost Maya's Duncan Hine's cupcakes but minus the rainbow sprinkles that my daughter absolutely insists on! Aaaahhh, I then knew how it felt like to be an animate, yummy, multi-tiered Devil's food cake! In an attempt to break the ice, I thought I'd engage in some small talk, and asked her what the chocolate was good for. She explained to me that applied topically, it had cleansing properties, clearing up blemishes, it stimulated circulation, leaving skin glowing and was obviously aromatherapeutic. Contented with her reply, but still left slightly wondering whether this exercise was worth the waste of otherwise perfectly good and edible chocolate that was making Montezuma as I always say, roll over in his grave, I shut up, and just basked in the remaining glorious moments and after Francine had coated me completely with the chocolate, she went on to wrap me up in plastic to "trap in my natural body heat" and let the stuff do it's magic and left me all alone again straightjacketed that way for a good 15 minutes. No, I'm not claustrophobic so I had not problem being bound up like that, but it's only during occasions like this or when you're getting a manicure that you itch up a storm, of course! It's got to be psychological, I swear! So there I was stuck with this dreadful itch in my back with no way to reach it. I was inching precariously closer and closer towards the edge of sanity when Francine finally arrived just in time and unwrapped me and instructed me to rinse off to which I readily this time, obeyed. I lingered a bit under the spray of warm water, and with my new-found freedom, scratched my itching back with gusto and watched the eddying brown (chocolatey!) water swirl down the drain.... be continued....

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

A Day at the Spa

A few years back, to mark our first major milestone of five years of being married, Kumar presented to me along with a bouquet of flowers and some delectable Godiva's, a curious rectangular-shaped gift box. I must admit that I was quite surprised at how light the box was, after all, I had been giving him not so subtle hints for about at least six months leading up to the occasion of the simple, understated diamond stud earrings (lol) that I've been wanting for quite sometime. Kumar obviously hadn't caught my drift!!! No, he had something else in mind which as I was just about to find out, would bar none, hands down exceed my expectations and totally eclipse the girl's bestfriend's ear adornment I had my heart set upon. I untied the ribbon & opened the box to reveal an ecruwhite envelope - in it was a gift certicate written out to me in gold cursive font beneath the recognizable Spa Diva letterhead on thick and crisp matching stationery. Yes, a day at the popular downtown Montreal spa voted to be the best for five consecutive years now! I profusely thanked my sweetheart and giddy with excitement, planted a kiss on his cheek and did my happy-dance - needless to say, I was flying high! Anyone who would have witnessed my ecstatic outburst, could've sworn that I had won the lottery instead of a trip to the spa and while no man could ever understand this, that was exactly how it felt to me - like someone had given me a million big ones! You don't understand, Maya was a little bit over a year at the time and eversince her birth, my life pretty much revolved around her. I felt that I was losing my sense of self with the endless days of Baby Einstein and countless diaper changes and was mortified at how I was beginning to morph into a typical frumpy mom, perpetually in sweats and sneakers. This opportunity was gold! But as the initial elation began to dissipitate, this feeling was slowly replaced with apprehension. "Wait a minute", I thought, "but I've never been to the spa before!" - I had absolutely no prior experience of this kind, and thus had no frame of reference to draw from and compare the notion with. I had no clue what to expect! Sure, I used to get my once very long hair done at Avanti Le Spa which has since been relocated to along Decarie, where I would leave the place set back by at least $350.00 after each half-day affair appointment that left my Saturday afternoon completely shot. But I never went in for a seaweed wrap nor a hot stone massage, so that didn't count, I guess. Of course, I had since "downsized" too after Maya and had found myself a Filipina hairdresser/aesthetician named Raquel in Cote-de-Neiges (sorry, she has no website :P) who runs a more mom & pop operation if you will. Raquel turned out to be just as good at dyeing and putting highlights in my hair and equally effective at keeping my frightening hairy facial renaissances at bay for a fraction of the cost I was paying at Avanti. So really, the idea of "a day at the spa," was almost foreign to me. And yet, despite some of the misgivings I had, I eagerly anticipated the following Sunday.... be continued....

Monday, July 5, 2010

On Uggs and Canada Goose Jackets

So, when I first returned to Canada from living in the Philippines for x number of years, one of the top items on my to-do-list was to get me some sexy leather boots (in an unconscious attempt to fulfill some repressed girly superheroic fantasies). You see that's one wardrobe item that one doesn't get to wear back home obviously due to the make-up melting tropical heat unless you live, I guess, in the mountain resort city of Baguio where it is considerably colder due to it's higher elevation or if you street-walk for a living (for money for old rope!) along the red-light district of Ermita - neither case applied to me, the latter, thankfully not so! Thus, I had absolutely zilch excuse or occasion to wear boots back in the old country! So, at the first chance I got after arriving here in the fall of '99 admidst the Y2K hype and fears of an impending armageddon, I headed to Rockland's and made a beeline to Aldo's and bought my first pair of black, leather, high-heeled winter boots. They were pretty nice, maybe not the most efficient in keeping my feet warm, nor the most practical for trudging through knee-deep snow or negotiating frozen iced over sidewalks, but dang! They looked good!!! I'm glad however, to see how these past few winters, women have smartened up in this regard owing especially to the scrumptious offerings of snow-worthy bootmakers that now combine both comfort and practicality and not to mention warmth and safety with to-die-for style, style, style. One no longer has to sacrifice on aesthetic value, just to avoid the risk of the resulting need for a toe (or two!) amputation from frostbite. Viva toasty toes!!! Oooh, I'm getting a warm fuzzy feeling just thinking about it and Uggs....

Now, I didn't always like the look of Uggs after the ever effervescent Sarah Jessica Parker set the trend. But they eventually grew on me. I'm sure many will agree with me that they are an acquired taste. I just didn't jump into the bandwagon jampacked with happy, shreiking, stylish, comfy-footed girls between 15 and 45 right off the bat. I waited it out to see whether it would be just a passing fad that would soon die off, plus they didn't come cheap. It's a bit annoying because UGG's lucked out and was flying high with SJP's virtually free plugging that sparked such a craze for the original, fuzzy-lined-interior with a beige and suedy outer, boots (which now come, mind you, in an array of different colors, styles and heights) and with such a high demand for them, they could get away with whatever MSRP they didn't just "suggest" but impose. That's exactly what happened to Canada Goose. The popularity of their jackets rose to astronomical proportions after my babe Matt Damon was spotted wearing one somewhere, where exactly, I forget but that's besides the point. Those down-filled poofy jackets don't come cheap either. But if you ask my humble opionion, like Ugg's, I believe they are well worth the price. I am hardly surprised that these styles have endured a few winters now. These are pieces that you'll really enjoy for years and years. I know Kumar likes his Canada Goose bomber, and personally, I have my mind set on getting the more fitted and longer parka (in black) in the near future.

It's a shame, though, how with the advent of every trend, comes the proliferation of imitations. Some by rival manufacturers that blatantly copy the styling of the original, and others that run more clandestine operations and who try to pass off their products as the real thing. Even Canada Goose jackets are being imitated! I guess the Chinese needed to find a way to put to good use the perfectly good Peking duck down feathers that are usually discarded by their rotisseries and in a flash of genius, one dude came up with the idea of using them as stuffing material for their imitation jackets. Eureka!!! When it comes to certain things, I let go of my bargain-hunting, H&M-frequenting self's philosophy (also held by every other penny-pinching style puss): "A real Timex is better than a fake Rolex." Ugg boots and Canada Goose Jackets, being some of those things. Like I said, these items are worth the price and are defintely good investments, think of them as gifts to yourself that keep giving back, you just can't go wrong!!!

But why am I talking about Ugg boots and Canada Goose Jackets in the middle of a brutal heatwave which is leaving my naturally wavy hair with waaaay too much to be desired??? Sandals that come in a plethora of shapes, styles and colors and made out of every imaginable material - canvas, plastic, leather - even pleather would've been a more apt subject to blog about, one might argue. But hey, I'm actually keeping up with the ridiculously fast moving pace of the fashion industry which keeps churning out new styles outdating the last trend every millisecond, it seems!! Trust me, give it about a week more and you'll see storefront displays awash with mannequins decked out to the nines in the "transition" collection replete with the matching blingy accessories, bags and/or hats, even the latest hairstyles and footwear to boot (no pun intended)! And then you'll find the remaining summer stuff reduced to a sad rack at the back of the store under a sign that not too discreetly screams LIQUIDATION!!! Personally, I have no prob rummaging through sales but I know of some weirdos who do - they simply don't realize how exorbitantly high the clothes have been marked up to, to begin with, duh!!! But going back to the transition collection, all this is really, is a big fancy term for what is a smaller sampling of the next major season's (e.g. between spring, summer, winter and fall) must-have's which help fashionistas to gently ease into the new weather, and more importantly, the new styles. The next transition collection will be featuring some pre-fall goodies with heavier fabrics and deeper colors of, hmmmm, I don't even know! Hang on, let me consult my fashion plate hubby first, will get back to you on that one! But to tell you the truth, I'm not even remotely close to ready to give up my daisy dukes, cotton baby T's and flip-flops which I've been living in the past few days. Those cutesy blazers, cashmere turtlenecks, tweedy skirts, opaque tights and knee-high leather boots and not to forget, the Canada Goose jackets and Ugg's can totally wait - indefinitely - if only I had my way!!!

Friday, July 2, 2010

The Gucci's

So am I "Imeldific" when it comes to shoes? I'd say that I have a reasonable and healthy admiration for them. I mean, name me a girl who doesn't? Oh, yeah?? Well, tell her she's a lying hypocrite!!! My current (it undergoes a steady turnover!) collection is basically pretty much composed of shoe wardrobe staples such as my black pointy Nine West pumps that I got at Winners (which is Canada's lame excuse of an answer to the US' Target!!!) sometime last winter, that fateful day when I was torn between those ones that I actually ended up getting (which are ok, I guess, and have been serving me pretty well at the office these days, as a matter of fact - versatile, quite sturdy, perhaps not the most comfy, of course, as they cram my feet into these unnaturally narrow twin-peaks, but who cares?? they're sexy!!!:p) and the contender that evoked quite the reaction in me of a shallow gaspy breath, sweaty palms, heart-a-pounding, pulse-a-racing and hands-a-shaking as I gingerly picked them up to admire - real Gucci's which have been marked down to only a whopping $500.00. But there was just no way - although I totally believe in investing in quality pieces, that would have just been pushing it, plus I was still on mat leave at the time, receiving just a measly fraction of my salary. But again, they were beautiful, and after all, I was on a mission to find a pair for everyday that particular morning, and they would definitely have fit the bill, hands down, without a question!!! It was an understated pair of black leather of the finest grain pumps embellished only with the recognizable green and red ribbon fastened together with a golden buckle fashioned into Gucci's signature interlocking, juxtaposed, mirror-image G&G logo. Time stood still as I mulled over the advantages and benefits of purchasing the beauties and got lost in thought as I imagined the fantastic times we would enjoy together. I finally snapped out of my trance-like daydreaming state, being brought back to reality by my 10-month old baby's soft whimper as he stirred and woke up from a rather longish nap in his stroller. Jaden's increasingly persistent whining from having been subjected to yet another drawn-out shopping session also brought back all sensiblility to me. Therefore, so as not to prolong my agony any further, I quicky tried the Gucci's on to get it over with already, hoping that they wouldn't be as flattering as I thought they'd be or at least just wouldn't fit, and would snuff out any vestiges of the burgeonin' splurgin' desire that I was entertaining and was threatening to get the better of me and drive me to do considerable damage to me and my husband's joint account or lead me to irresponsibly swipe some plastic and consummate the sinful retail "deed" and that way if they didn't fit, I wouldn't feel so physically ill as I was beginning to, but much to my dismay, they did fit - and so beautifully so, from every single freakin' angle, waaaaaaahhhhh!!! Eventually, in what must have seemed like an eternity to poor Jaden, I reluctantly took them off and returned them to their perch on the shelf, covered them a bit so they wouldn't be so conspicuous to my fellow female shoppers - you see, I just couldn't bear to have seen them being snatched up and whisked away and bought by somebody else, no, not on the same day, at least! That would've been just too much grief for me to handle! It was only after much emotional turmoil that I finally conceded that the shoes did not justify the price and settled with the Nine West pumps, pushed Jaden along to the cash, paid for them, took the parcel from the irritatingly chirpy, twenty-something cashier, hung it over my left forearm, the way Paris Hilton used to tote Tinkerbell and with the heaviest heart, turned my Zara boot-clad heel and proceeded to the exit, paused to fish into my oversized Club Monaco bag for my leather gloves, slipped them on, cinched the belt of my also Zara peacoat a little tighter and turned up it's Napoleon collar to brace myself for the freezing winter air, left the store and with my cashmere scarf flapping in the icy cold wind, got Jaden and myself into my car, turned on the engine and the heater, put on my Marc Jacobs sunglasses to conceal my doleful eyes, my chest-a-heaving and not daring to look back, sped away and moved on with my sad Gucci-less existence.....

On "tarts" (my understanding of U2's Until the End of the World)

It's too funny 'coz for the longest time I thought the line went "in the garden I was playing the 'tar" or short for guitar....turns out it's tart. No, he wasn't having fun with a fruit-filled flaky pastry, but rather "tart" is a term used mostly by the Brits to mean a p _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _u oh, just google it, would you!!!! (thanks for the clarification James, my hubby's friend whose last name just happens to be Bond, for real! The first time he called looking for Kumar and introduced himself as agent 007's namesake, I swear, I could've died! I could've sworn it was a crank call and I was this close to hanging up on him!!!!) So all of this time I'm thinking that the man in the song decides to break the girl's heart for no apparent reason. But what I like is the irony of how he seems to try to trivialize his action saying that the girl was overreacting and that she was "acting like it was the end of the world." Well, could he blame her??? In the end he seems to be overcome with remorse talking about his "drowning in sorrow" & about "waves of regret" but it's kinda too late. And finally he tries to shift the blame to her saying in effect "what gives?" since she had said "she'd wait for him until the end of the world" - I don't think she had meant that she would even after catching him cheating with a, er, tart!

And that's my take on my all-time favorite U2 song that had just taken on a whole different meaning all because of the letter T that completely altered the definition of one word, and the import of the entire song!!!

Thursday, July 1, 2010


Here are the lyrics to my all-time favorite U2 song:
Until the End of the World
Haven't seen you for quite a while
I was down the hole just passing time
Last time we met was a low-lit room
We were as close together as a bride and groom
We ate the food, we drank the wine
Everybody having a good time
Except you, you were talking about the end of the world
I took the money
I spiked your drink
You miss too much these days if you stop to think
You lead me on with those innocent eyes
You know I love the element of surprise
In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart
You, you were acting like it was the end of the world
In my dream I was drowning my sorrows
But my sorrows, they learned to swim
Surrounding me, going down on me
Spilling over the brim
Waves of regret, waves of joy
I reached out for the one I tried to destroy
You, you said you'd wait till the end of the world
U2 was slated to play in Montreal this month on the North American leg of their 360 tour. Unfortunately the concert got cancelled due to Bono's back and spine injuries. My die-hard U2 fan bro Al, braved sub-zero weather last winter in order to get tickets which sold out in just a matter of hours after they went on sale. My good friends Cindi and Raffi also got a pair. I thought they'd all be refunded for them. But ticket-holders were instead specifically instructed to hold on to them for when they do come (yay!). So, the concert tour hasn't been cancelled altogether, just postponed. Bono's injuries are quite serious and has been ordered to be on bed rest for the time being. And according to my bro, he heard that when Bono's stubborn nature quickly became apparent to his doctors, they enlisted the help of his U2 band mates, lead guitarist, The Edge, bassist, Adam Clayton and drummer, Larry Mullen, Jr. to get Bono whom they fondly and loyally refer to as their "fearless leader" to stay put. Shout out to U2: I ♥♥♥ U!!!
I wanted to invite you guys to share with me your fave U2 song/moment. Looking forward to your comments!