Why Jessica Alba?

No, no one has actually outright asked me that, although, I'm sure it must have at least crossed some of my readers' minds and that her rather conspicuous face just being on my blog like that might have elicited a couple of smirks, a chuckle or two, an eye-roll, and perhaps an "ok, there!" like yah, just who does she think she is??? (me, that is) But it's all good, it's all good and granted, it is a valid question that totally merits an explanation of sorts. So then, why Jessica Alba??? After all, she's not representative of me, is she??? No, I don't neccesarily resemble her and uh, vice-versa (lol). For one thing, I'm not as well-endowed, in fact I'm soooo not as well-endowed that I could almost be asexual (lol).

I recall a friend of ours, JP, who had a thing for Jessica, he said that her only "flaw," if you could call it that, was that she was a brunette. So when she went blond to play Sue Storm, he got really excited, no actually, he was floored - to him she had the whole package, she was the whole package. I also remember a segment on Sesame Street featuring Alba winsomely teaching Cookie Monster I believe it was, the meaning of the word "scrumptious," fitting wouldn't you say? Mmmmm, scrumptious, hahaha, poor Cookie was practically reduced to a glob of blue putty in her hands! So she's everything I'm not, but in my fantasy (not fantastical) world, I get to be anyone I want including this superhero/femme-fatalish figure....no, not because I ever want to be the object of a cohort of men's lusty desire and a locker room staple (yuck), I just thought it cool (lol).

And so when I was designing my blog and decided that I would post up a picture of some cool female action persona, my search efforts reaped me some very interesting results and possiblilities, unfortunately most of them were decidedly, uh, too provocative and inappropriate, all except for Jessica Alba. As Sue Storm, she seemed sweet and had had to be the tamest one of them all (just like me:)). So there you have it, and I hope that answers the burning (lol) question, why (the heck) Jessica Alba?

Re-setting the Odometer

So I went from believing that the very heavens wept on the day of my mom's passing to thinking that the world would end. Apparently not, for sure enough, the sun rose this morning as it has for aeons, ushering a brand new day - how rude! I carried on as usual - what else does one do in the wake of such a sad event anyways? I went to run an errand and while I was walking, thought to myself, how many people out of the ones I'm meeting had just lost someone or is contending with similar distresses? At a glance, it's hard to tell, it's not easily discernible - not from across the street, across the room nor from across the cash, it is. And then I wondered, who else of these very same people in turn, could be wondering likewise? At face value, of course, it's not readily apparent. And life does go on! I can't exactly assume a fetal position in a corner and sob all day or can I?

Life's tough - sure, we enjoy stretches of halcyons and experience pockets of joy every now and then, but everything in between is just hard.

I'm still waiting for the heart-wrenching or searing or shooting or sharp or whatever kind of pain it is I'm supposed to feel because all I'm feeling right now is still this dull ache in my chest that's been here for months...

On Death

When mom first got diagnosed and broke the news to me a little over a year ago, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I just reeled from the initial shock and then ran through a gamut of emotions. For a long time I teetered between denial and anger. Cancer doesn't always have to be a death sentence, and we didn't just throw our hands up and resign to the fact that that was it. We fought hard. But cancer is a formidable foe, and it's relentless. It eventually became apparent that she wasn't going to get better, and then she succumbed to the enemy.

I'm still working through each emotion. There's no right or wrong way to grieve, with a prescribed length of time to be in denial or overcome with sadness and so on. There's no textbook example. You come to grips with the reality in your own time and come to acceptance on your own terms. The defense mechanisms and the euphemisms, it's all about self-preservation. But I wish I could feel more because I'm second-guessing my make-up, steel, maybe? I know I'll crash soon enough. Yesterday I took it upon myself the most surreal task of calling the funeral home and was greeted by the receptionist who before getting to business and rerouting my call, expresed her sympathies - it was perfunctory, and it sounded that way, mechanical - it was almost amusing, I almost felt like laughing, like a madwoman at the irony of it all...

As for my mom: growing up and especially when I hit the so-called awkward teens, my Dad never had to give me lengthy sermons on how to be. They weren't necessary. When it came to fatherly advice, he had it all figured out and neatly summed up into a one-sentencer: "Just be like your mom." Full of admiration for her, he well knew that if I were to be like my mom, then I'd be set for life, if only I'd imitate her, then I'd be good, by following her sterling example, I could never go wrong. To emulate her was in my best interests. But unfortunately for me, my mom set the bar too high and had always been a hard act for me to follow, and now that's she's gone, there will be shoes too big to fill as I mother my own kids. She had the quietest and mildest spirit and she had this regal quality about her - of course, not that she was haughty or pompous, far from it, she was humble and meek. My mom was royalty in that she carried herself with grace and poise, she was a class
act and while she was this queen, I am just a commoner. Her virtues only magnified my faults but I never resented this. It had always been a privilege to trail behind in her shadow.

Yesterday, it was cold, grey & gloomy and then it finally poured. It might be presumptuous of me but I wanted to think above just purely the weather level and believe that for a moment, the actual heavens wept specifically and especially for my mom....

ON FACEBOOK

I wanted to blog a bit on the madness that is Facebook. No, I didn't get on board from it's inception, in fact, I'm a newbie. I had jumped headlong into the bandwagon fairly recently but have been stuck eversince - I won't deny it, I can't, at one point I even publicly confessed that it was official, that I was a social networking junkie, teetering between highs and lows and withdrawal symptoms everytime I've tried to quit (I think cold turkey might be the only way to do it!) By now I have exactly 341 friends, my aim is to hit the nice round number of 350, not too quite a ways to go, and then I'll probably stop accepting and adding people. But that's nothing compared to the number of friends others I know have. It can hardly be an accurate gauge of one's popularity, can it? Well, if you think it is, you might be in trouble. That calls for a major major rethinking of your whole life's purpose if you feel that you need lame comments from high school girlfriends to tickle your ears & validate your self-worth. That's just sad :(

I read on an MSN article once, that the brain can only process and assimilate as much information of the equivalent of up to 250 FB amigos/as, that includes things like their overtly provocative TMI pics, the use of Facebook, particularly, the status update box, as their medium to whine, brag-plain (brag and/or complain), blast people to kingdom come (figuratively), wish people dead, buy and sell, get mushy and wax poetic, profess true and everlasting love, close business deals, review movies or restaurants, root for their hometown's hockey/basketball team, forecast today's weather in their respective parts (e.g. balmy weather in Florida, blizzards in Montreal, torrential downpours in Manila, tornadoes in the midwest, earthquakes in California, a gloomy and overcast afternoon in Manchester, and a sandstorm in Dubai!) to post and annouce just about anything under the sun from various classified ads, beloved family pet obituaries, actual engagements, divorces, weddings, births, adoptions, dating couple's monthsaries (eyeroll), Joey's first communion, baby's first, uh, gas-passing, David's Bar-Mitzvah, the conclusion of Ramadan, Keesha's cookout, Sarah's garden tea party replete with dainty cucumber sandwiches, excerpts of the lyrics of cheesy love-ballads, inspirational (?) quotes, latest acquisitions (new house, car, shoes, toothbrush) to the details and particulars of last night's shindig and midnight snack and today's brunch menu, etc., etc. and this list is not even remotely exhaustive! Of course, I am guilty of posting things of the exact same nature as some if not most of the above and I'm actually over MSN's prescribed limit by just shy of 100. No wonder I can't keep up. I don't even know why I even bother, at the end of the day does anyone really, truly give a rat's backside? (Rhetorical question)

Here's another thing on Facebook: you'll also find a chocful of viral video clips, again anywhere from funny spoofs (plural spooves? not sure!) spin-offs and parodies, music videos (like!), baton-twirlers, bollywood dance numbers, my fave and infamous(not mine personally!) clip of an actual C-section set to the relaxing strains of elevator music, elephant births, spoilers of the results/winners to many a reality competition/show, because people don't realize that there are what exists, different time zones, and just have to be the first to break the news to ruin the element of surprise for you after you had only religiously watched every single episode week after week for the entire season. (Gasp!) gory ones of mutilated people and even beheaded ones (which I've opened by error and in my horror!) I swear, I couldn't tell from the thumbnail-sized pic on my Ipod touch!) - images that have been indellibly seared onto the front lobe of my left-side brain (oops, song lyric! lol) and will haunt me forever. Disturbing, very disturbing.

And while Facebook provides gossip fodder in abundance (e.g. who got smashed drinking too much punch at the company's annual picnic, and who got canned for getting smashed drinking too much punch and tried to get their freak on with the CEO's son at the company's annual picnic!) and is supposed to be a fun and harmless way to re-connect and keep in touch with friends and family and perhaps rekindle old flames (not so harmless!) there are both potential & real dangers, besides the risk of developing physical conditions such as carpal tunnel syndrome, various RSI's, failing vision and a marked drop in one's Intelligence Quota, it serves as a lurking ground and bottomless resource for the unscrupulous and shady stock, out to get your personal information, assume your identity, defraud and empty your pocketbooks and sadly also for the absolute bottomfeeders/scum of the earth, namely, pedophiles (Please, can't emphasize it enough, please do not post pics of your painfully cute kids in their birthday suits even if you strategically pixelate some areas). I wanted to sound this warning especially since I have a couple of friends, who in their excitement, and a momentary lapse in better judgment, broadcasted their trip to Cancun this week over FB. Not a good idea, that's just asking for trouble, to let everyone know that your place will be empty for so long, unless of course, you also mention that your friendly wee little pet pitbull, Spot and massive Rottweiler, Chewy (short for Chewbacca and also known to chew on peoples' body parts) will be minding the house in your absence. Hopefully, that will serve as a deterrent, otherwise it's like an open invitation to clean out your place, drywall and all! Those people happen to be some out of my handful of real friends on Facebook, ones for whom I am, in all honestly, willing to die for. No, I don't mean to insult or embarass them in any way, this is just my way of looking out for them! (Although I might be a bit jealous for not being able to tag along to sunny Mexico!) Be safe my dear FB friends!

On Whirlwind Shopping-Lunches

That's another thing we have down to a science: first we decide upon a retail establishment - either the neighborhood's upscale mall or sometimes the outlets a bit more further out - we plot the fastest route, synchronize watches immediately upon arrival thereat, agree on a meeting time and place and then without wasting another second, part ways as we make a beeline to our store of choice. Sometimes without even knowing it we'd have had the same idea and end up at the same boutique, (we kind of gravitate towards the sales section). We seem to have this mutual tacit understanding and not too many words are exchanged, maybe a simple nod to acknowledge the other's presence or to approve a piece of merchandise and then it's carrying on shopping because time is of the essence. Yes, while the directors have business lunches during which they sign contracts and close million dollar deals, we girls have "shopping lunches" where we scour through boutiques for rare finds and "steals" and empty our pocketbooks.

It was during one of these whirlwind noontime escapades that we found ourselves at an intersection with a semi-trailer truck charging right at us. We should've taken it as a sign that it wasn't meant to be, like some ominous writing on the wall, when en route to Marche Centrale, the highway exit turned out to be closed off due to construction & should have just turned around and headed back to the office, but you know, when there's a will, there's a way and no roadblock was so insurmountable as to keep us from making it to our destination. So as usual, when we got there, we parted at Old Navy, checked out Jacob, reconvened at Guess and finally assembled together in front of the car with our crinkly, rustling-tissue-lined paper bags and hopped in. And that's when we came face-to-face with the truck. My little compact sedan was actually encroaching on it's way. You know how some of those trucks have warnings on their rears that they make "wide right-turns" ? Well, we were in it's way as it was making one of those clumsy turns, and I didn't even hear the driver blasting his foghorn of a horn above my screaming so loudly like an idiot. All I could see was the word MACK set against the shiny radiator grill coming right at us. Sheryl just short of slapped me silly upside my head for me to get a grip of myself, and calmly verbally instructed me to just back up. So I did, and the truck, of course, neatly made it's way to it's side of the road. I later learned that for a fleeting milli-second Sema considered jumping car and ditching us, taking our purchases with her!

I'm not sure anymore whether we are the best threesome to be working together because instead of helping one another exercise self-restraint and will-power, we condone each other's actions and encourage, justify and egg on our compulsive shopping habit (same goes for the that-time-of-the-month chocolate, and McNuggets cravings!!!) Sometimes, we reason that in a way we are actually kissing the hand that feeds us, after all, we are in the retail construction business! That day we narrowly escaped certain death by human roadkill and indirectly, by shopping, well, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but really, it must've been some kind of divine retribution for too much self-indulgence....

On Hectic Mornings & TMR

As early as 8:25 this morning it was 23 degrees Celsius but felt really more like 35 degrees and rising with the humidity....It was decidedly, a rather hectic morning, rounding up the kids and out the door because they had a field trip. Field trips are a lot of work - there are the brown bag lunches you need to pack, the sunblock you need to slather onto squirmy bodies and the wide-brimmed hats you need to ransack the house first just to find to send with the kids who need to be at the daycare at least half an hour earlier than the usual time. Believe me, a half hour might as well be five hours, it makes a huge difference, heck, if the back to school traffic that set me back by a whole five minutes yesterday threw my whole schedule off which I almost had down to a science with so much time alloted for feeding and dressing the kids, my shower, for doing my hair and painting my face & most importantly, for picking up my coffee, how much more a whole half-hour? By the end of it all I was pooped, and at 8:25 after retrieving my McDonald's dollar coffee and fruit and fiber muffin (it tastes better than it sounds!) from the lady at the drive-thru, I felt hot and sticky. As I crossed over the marked threshold from middle-classland to upper-crust-of-societyville where my company's located, I noticed the street-sweeping truck a few blocks down which renders the perfectly paved streets so clean you can eat off them if you so wish, and I glanced longingly at the watering truck immediately to my left by the perfectly manicured and landscaped median giving the flowerbeds a cool, refreshing and inviting shower and the thought of moving here crossed my mind once again. You know, just for the convenience - wouldn't it be great to be able to sleep until five-to the time I'm supposed to be in? Then maybe I could get away with what they call an Italian shower. My friend explained to me that it's supposed to be a sponge bath of sorts, funny, 'coz I thought it meant dousing and strategically dabbing on some Acqua di Gio for the signores or some nice Dolce for the signoris..hmmm, the only teeny problem that prevents us from moving is that the asking prices here start at three quarters of a million, shucks, I guess that idea's a write-off. But hey, if I could afford that, then I probably wouldn't be working anyways, my clerk's salary wouldn't be making much of a dent on our sizable bank account, would it? Like the proverbial drop in a bucket. I'd be a stay-at-home/soccer mom, rolling the kids around in an exotic European station-wagon, probably bleach-blond, too...like that skinny lady toting a real Louis Vuitton, walking her yappy Havanese down the sidewalk...

Villa Armando

That's the name of the gelato and panini place in the upscale neighbourhood of TMR we've been hanging out at with friends to beat this summer's epic heat and to satisfy our late-night sweet-toothy cravings. They serve this flavour of gelato that I've been wanting to try called Mt. Vesuvio but somehow I'd always end up with my tried and true fave of either raspberry or mango and gooey chocolate sherbet. Going back to Vesuvio, it's named after the Italian Volcano (English: Mt. Vesuvius) that totalled Pompeii and it's sister city of Hernaculeum in 79 AD, burying them in six meters of ash and pumice. No, the gelato doesn't look like a miniscale volcano, so much like a fifth-grader's science project, but rather what I believe it's supposed to replicate is ground zero in the aftermath of that fateful catastrophic volcanic eruption with, if my photographic memory serves me right, extra creamy and real vanilla gelato as the base replete with rich, dark and decadent chocolate syrup swirled in for "lava" and copious chunks of chocolate bar and nuts for "boulders" & "rocks" strewn all over for one helluva a mess of yummy goodness. Seriously, if ever I'm down to eating "dirt," this is the kind I won't mind devouring in large quantities, yeah, by the pintful!!!

September

No, I don't believe in the after-life, not at all and neither do I believe in reincarnation, yet sometimes the idea seems like the only logical explanation - that in some "previous life," I must have been a white chick from Northern Ontario (lol). What else can explain my love-affair with everything country, from doily-covered chesterfield armrests, potpourri to gingham tablecloths, a penchant for Nickelback & Daughtry and of course, for twangy ditties of lost love, and not to mention, a strange sense of affinity to Taylor Swift??? Quite an odd preference, I know, considering my ethnicity whose cultural norms would have me belting out cheesy love ballads (e.g. Air Supply) on Karaoke, if they had their way, that is!

Here are the lyrics to one of my current favorites, September by Daughtry:

How the time passed away
All the trouble that we gave
And all those day we spent out by the lake
Has it all gone to waste?
All the promises we made
One by one they vanished just the same

All the things I still remember
Summers never looked the same
Years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain
In the middle of September
We still played out in the rain
Nothing to lose but everything to gain
Reflecting now on how things could've been
It was worth it in the end

Now it all seems so clear
There's nothing left to fear
So we made our way by finding what was real
Now the days are so long
That summer's moving on
Reach for something that's already gone

All the things I still remember
Summers never look the same
Years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain
In the middle of September
We still played out in the rain
Nothing to lose but everything to gain
Reflecting now on how things could've been
It was worth it in the end

Yeah, We knew we had to leave this town
But we never knew when and we never knew how
We would up here the way we are

We knew we had to leave this town
But we never knew when and we never knew how

All the things I still remember
Summers never look the same
Years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain
In the middle of September
We still played out in the rain
Nothing to lose but everything to gain
Reflecting now on how things could've been
It was worth it in the end

I like this song, as in a lot, my only critique is the use of the word "reflecting" - I just think it is too big of a word for a song and quite a mouthful to sing. "Thinking" would've been a better choice of word but then again, that's just me. Happy September everyone!