# 57 original miracle baby!

for those who trust and believe, a miracle is God's hand at work.

when a much-awaited bundle of joy makes her long-overdue entrance into this world, it is God's hand at work, absolutely and unquestionably so!  the story of our original miracle baby preceded this previously posted miracle story by four years. plot is the same - years of waiting, intervention of science, intercession of prayers. stir everything together and you have an only child borne out of intense yearning and pure faith.  today, our original miracle baby turns twelve.

as with all the younger grand kids, popsie did not live long enough to be with gugud. he would be happy to know that his excellent analytical skills and penchant for hammering away with arguments has been passed on to her. she will make a great lawyer, this kid.  there is no loophole she will not pick on to gain the upper hand. boon to whom she takes up the cudgels for. woe to whom bad fortune has befallen just by standing on the other side of the court.  given a couple more decades, gugud will handily face-off with the toughest of trial lawyers.
  

a great sense of direction is a gift. stress buster in the least. time saving and cost-effective at best. you either have it or you don't.  gugud has that gift.  comes in handy with a directionally-challenged family. no GPS device is needed when she is around.  armed with an inner GPS on default mode, she can weave her way through busy city streets or whip through the countless confusing corners of a mall.

sudoku is a number puzzle. like any other puzzle, you either get it or you don't. this local daily hosts a sudoku challenge for its readers to take part in. gugud was up to the challenge early on.  this sharpened her command of the numbers and the logic needed to ace the puzzles. recently, she represented her school to  an inter-school sudoku competition.  topped it, too.  way to go, champ! 

you either have it for running or you don't.  gugud  must have applied some insect repellent to shoo away the running bug that has bitten everyone else. no early morning wake up call for this kid.  except for  this one and only  run. only because it was a late afternoon run.  but never again.  i hear her say let's talk chess instead.

text promos and raffles follow the same either-or rule. either have all the luck or none at all.  you can fill out a hundred stubs of raffle tickets or send a thousand text answers. your provider would be richer by a thousand like they need another thousand to add to their coffers while you come up with a goose egg - zero, zilch, nada! pays to have lady luck by your side. gugud sends in several entries to this advertised text promo. some fair warning that she has considerably racked up her cellphone bill is given. lady luck promptly rewards with a brand new smartphone.

happy, happy birthday, my dear gugud!! i love you, gud. the miracle of your birth is truly God's hand at work. you continue to amaze us with your inquisitive mind and instinctive resolve. your powerhouse arguments, too.  enjoy being a kid. go slow. do not be in a hurry. the teen years can wait.  carry on with those explorations that bring you close to wonders that so incessantly beguile the mind of the nature-lover and young scientist that you are.  while other sports may fail to interest you, build up those smart calculating board moves that dare the instinct of the budding chess master that you are.  challenge yourself to greater heights, as high and mighty as those dizzying gigantic rollercoaster monsters that you so fearlessly get a kick out of. in everything that you do, remember that, as in a game of chess, 'checkmate' may not always be yours to deliver. it's okay to lose sometimes.  you can always arrange the pieces and start all over again.  just like the game. 

with the teen years an arm's length away, a kid enjoys the homestretch of the kid years.  isn't that awesome?

# 56 of pearls and middle age woes

silver.  pearl.  coral.  ruby.  sapphire.  gold.  this is how dear old mater distinguishes jubilarians. silver is twenty-five. thirty is pearl. coral is thirty-five. and so on. counted in terms of years after graduation from high school. 

silver.  check.  pearl.  check.  coral.  three years away from now. that is where we are.  do the math.  it takes just but a few seconds to know that we have had forty-odd years of life.  to be more exact, we are in the vicinity of middle age.  no one acts like it, much less look like it. we have will and grace. not the comedy show of not too long ago. the will to defy the ravages of time. the grace to face it with stubbornness, if not mirth.

batchmates get together for pocket reunions in between grand alumnae homecomings.  reasons vary.  someone comes home from foreign shores. birthdays.  milestones.  christmas.  all the happy reasons.  inevitably, the sad ones, too. these reunions seesaw in attendance from full-force to smaller intimate gatherings. any which way,  a grand time is enjoyed by all. a well-deserved break from the realities of middle age to relive the carefree high schools days.

the last get-together was of the small, intimate kind. by the time tea was served, everyone was ready for after-dinner talk.  updates on children, domestic affairs, vacations, disclosure of medical woes.  retirement got mentioned a lot, too.  

the flames of this fiery choco mousse is a cue to the evening's steamy revelations. the censored version without the raunchy details was enough to keep everyone riveted to their seats. 

yes, that is hot chocolate and no, we are not showing our age by ordering that instead of the more adventurous options on the menu.  we are, after all, working professionals with eight-to-five jobs out on a weekday.

let the hands do the talking.  any get-together is not complete without the spotlight on someone's love story. could be the unfolding of a brand-new romance or a rehash of last year's fairty tale.  chapter 1 of the story was ho-hum. lacking in tickle-to-the-bone factor. not a surprise as it happened some 25 years ago. 

 chapter 2 provided the oh-my-God-that-couldn't-be-true-shocker-of- the-night gasp.  the punch would have been enough to knock pacquiao down and out. chapter 3 was a love story so sweet, it would make the  ants troop to our table. 

 synchronized elbows on the table could only mean intense fascination with and absorption of the juicy details of middle age romance. the it-is-written-in-the-stars-i-can-wait-forever-fit-for-telenovela kind of romance.  ah, the joys of middle age!

back in high school, the batch was grouped by sections. four for each level. everything and anything was done by sections. from the first year to the senior year. it followed that friendships were developed by sections. rare was the bond that was formed outside of it.  over the years after graduation, sections dissolved. the whole batch is now just collectively known as HS8O.  

it is hard to notice the clock tick away when one is having fun.  a minute longer at the dessert place and the ladies behind the counter would have shooed us away. good times with old friends while cameras click away to capture those special moments.  isn't that awesome? 

# 55 fuel food!!!

fuel:  any material burned to supply heat or power
food : nourishment taken into the body
fuel food : nourishment to supply power to the body

when the road ahead is long (as in a procession, see previous post), well-meaning street entrepeneurs peddle food (with  jacked-up prices, naturally) to fuel the body. lest the kids feign hunger-induced wooziness and bolt from the line, several pit stops are mapped out to partake of the varied options on display.  food carts are visible every hundred meters along the whole stretch of the route.

 sweet corn on a cob a-boiling while you wait is a crowd drawer.  a brush of melting butter makes eating it quite a mess but its natural sweetness is a come-on.  

the kids had to stop several times for their favorite munchie -- peanuts!  the bike-mounted showcase had peanuts of different varieties - salted, coated, spicy or sweet.  they each get a teeny-weenie brown bag of their peanuts of choice.

this heart-shaped hanging oddity is locally known as pusô,  literal translation: heart.  coconut leaves are weaved; rice grains are poured into an opening and cooked in the usual way rice is cooked. not far from the puso, one will most likely find an array of of the local version of the barbecue.  

what better excuse to ease the weary feet than a brief stopover for a snack.  isn't that awesome?