# 43 with strings attached !

ashton kutcher preferred no strings attached in the romantic comedy film. this string certainly has attachments.

whether it is the full distance or the half or the 5k, the turnaround point is to a runner as the halftime is to some team sports player.  well, with a number of variances. while the halftime is the break between two halves of a basketball or football game, the turning point may or may not be equidistant to the start and finish lines. there is only one halftime in a game; there may be more than one turnaround point in a race.  the turnaround takes but a quick second or two; the halftime has the luxury of more minutes. the purpose is the same, though - to allow runners or players to take a deep breath, size up the situation, regroup or adjust strategies if needed.  now or never moment. 

marshals man the turnaround point lest runners miss the turn or hot-headed drivers, unmindful of an on-going race, claim ownership of the road.  

the timing chip is yet to be used in regular weekend races.  for now, it is reserved for major races.  in the absence of technology to measure time and distance covered, a string is handed out to a runner who makes it to a turnaround point. 

runners slow down when they make the turn as they wait for the string to be handed out.  this is quite a distraction for serious runners. one has to have quick hands or run the risk of a few seconds delay.

nothing fancy, just a regular string in the eyes of many. the person giving out the string would most likely say 'go for it, you're almost there!'  never mind if 'almost' means six miles or even thirteen miles away.  to a runner,  the string serves a purpose. attached to that string is a sense of fulfillment, a triumph of willpower over body.  at the turnaround point, weary feet forge ahead.  the finish line looms a few miles less away. confidence replaces doubt.  a power kick sparks the wavering spirit.

yes, almost there, indeed!   isn't that awesome?

# 42 sign of the times!

there it stands. right in the middle of a vacant lot, overgrown grass threatening to take over its stead.

you could see the sign from a desperately-seeking-repair part of your neighborhood street.  the lot is not for sale. you have known that for the longest time. the owner does not want to sell. out of the corner of your eye, you see the phone numbers on the tarp. that got your attention.  they must be selling.  must have changed their minds.  then you see the big and bold letters telling passers-by what you have thought all along.  the lot is, indeed, not for sale.

you are as much amused as you are bemused by what the sign says.  the lot is not for sale but you can call for inquiries.  there are numbers to call.

you wonder if you should try calling those numbers (erased on purpose) and make some inquiries.  just because the sign says you may do so.

hello.... i would like to inquire why the lot is not for sale.

.... would you know of any other property for sale?

.... may i know where you had that tarpaulin sign made?

a casual sign by the road to pep you up.   isn't that awesome?

# 41 when a child is born.....

a tiny star lights up way up high.....

christmas is indeed in the air as this christmas carol is being played on the radio too often now. a birth of a child brings to mind an old family story that has been passed on countless times.  it is popsie's story.  popsie is the kids' grandfather.  the story tells of his longing to have a son after a first-born daughter.  popsie was, for a time, an avid cockfighter.  in our part of the world, cockfighting is some kind of a national sport. a form of gambling, too.  on mamam's second pregnancy, popsie prepared his prized gamecock for the big fight. he placed his bet on a son this time around.  he bet big. and lost big. on the third, he bet again. and lost again. the cycle went on. until he gave up.  it was a losing game for him.

collectively, we are known as the first generation girls-girls-girls, popsie's term of endearment for his brood of five girls.  the second generation girls-girls-girls came courtesy of the grandchildren - five not-so-little-anymore charmers. today, they are joined by an adorable hours-old pink bundle of joy.

 she opened her eyes and everyone fell in love with her.

spotlight was on our little doll  as she was  wheeled closer to the viewing window. 

yangi, wawa and gugud excitedly take pictures of the newest kid in town.

in the olden times, instamatics used films to take pictures and developing them took ages.  organizing the pictures meant voluminous albums that weighed a ton. in the megapixel world of iBaby, digital pictures take just a wink of an eye. a gazillion shots are recorded.  today's albums? they are as light as feathers.

the diary is a school requirement.  yangi named her diary cherry.  today's entry is a message of thanks for her baby sister - 'thank you so much, Lord God, Mama Mary, St. Jhudiel and Jesus.'

wawa's entry says ' my baby sister is born.  she is so cute.  i wonder if she will look like me when she grows up.  now i am an ate (older sister).

  i am not the youngest anymore.'

when a child is born, a star shines way up high.  high up in heaven where popsie and mamam would be smiling.  popsie would have lost again if cockfighting was allowed in heaven.  it is okay, pops, she has your nose.  

girls-girls-girls latest member is the family tree's newest twig.  girl power! isn't that awesome?