Coming to Canada.

After countless forms that needs to be filled up and signed and days and months of waiting,  I finally got that piece of paper that says I'm confirmed as a permanent resident of Canada.

It's been four years since I first set foot in this country. I remember seeing the lights of Vancouver for the first time, as the plane prepared to land, and I realized that, there's no turning back.  I had no idea as to what lies ahead of me. It has been a learning experience, as I eased myself  into the Canadian way of life. And I'm still learning every day. I have to remind myself from time to time that I only inhabit a small portion of this country. But to keep it simple, whenever someone ask me where I'm at now, my answer is always, "I'm in Canada."

I am grateful for Mama. I get to go to school and come to Canada. Although, she thinks I'm too serious. :-)

I've always wanted to go to New York for a visit. But I never thought about the possibility that I get to move away from home and live somewhere, a thousand miles away from family and friends, in an entirely different time zone and climate. Coming to Canada has its upside and downside, like everything else in life. "You can't have your cake and eat it too." proves to be true.

People I've met are curious to know if I like it here. I always say that I do. I like the temperate climate. I like the library. Although being away from home is a compromise I have to deal with. I miss my family and the few friends I have, from time to time. And I miss the food. I came from a country where no meal is complete without rice. It took me awhile to get used to eating salads and other kind of vegetables. One day, someone asked me if I cook my own food, I replied no. And she was like, don't you miss it? I told her, I miss it, sometimes. But I learn to adjust and adapt. Besides, my sister cook Filipino food when we hang out.

My sister and I don't agree on a lot of things. But that doesn't change the fact that I learned some things from her, like how to put on a jacket, without having the shirt sleeves all bunched up underneath. :-)

When it was certain that I'd be coming to Canada, I decided to read more about the country to keep myself abreast with what to expect. Let's just say that my reading helped a bit. But still, it didn't prepare me for all the experiences I encountered along the way.  A lot has change for me in the span of four years. I like to think that coming to Canada made me a better person. It made me more responsible. Being here made me look at my family in a different light and appreciate them. Then I learned how to drive and got my driver's license. I  get to run a marathon. I had the opportunity to work for three different wonderful elderly ladies, whom impacted my life in ways I didn't expect. No amount of reading could have prepared me, for the experience  and realization ( which came later )-- that I am capable of caring for another person. That I can be emotionally invested in someone. And I don't mean this, in the sense of just doing my job. That I will learn to like animals, especially Moxie and Nakita, and sometimes, prefer their company. That coming to Canada would test my patience, when one day, I had to stand in the rain, while I wait for the bus. And on another occasion literally ran after one.

Dennis and Rita make my life easier. I am and will always be thankful. 

Before you doze off and fall flat on your face while reading this, I'll bring this post to an end by saying a word of thanks to the people who make it possible for me to be here.  I can't take all the credit for having survived in a foreign country, that's altogether different from the one where I was born and grew up. I owe it to all the generous and kind people I have had the privilege of meeting. It's worth mentioning that without my aunt ( whom we call Mama ), I wouldn't be in Canada right now. Even if we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, it won't discount the fact that she  made it possible for me to come here. To my sister, who made it easier for me to adjust to my new life here, even if sometimes, she drives me crazy. And most of all, I wouldn't be able to comply with the requirements to become a permanent resident if not for Mary, Nora and Nancy and their respective families. They trusted me and welcomed me in their homes.

First time camping, lessons learned.

 Happy campers? I think, for the most part. :-)

I've never been to camping with my folks and by folks, I meant,my aunt, sister and my aunt's friend, Rhea. So when Rhea suggested that we'd go to Hornby Island and set up camp for two days, I was excited. I've never been to Hornby Island in the first place and I'd love to try camping. I realized that it entails a lot of work--planning and organizing, and most of all, patience and a sense of humor. We shared a lot of funny moments during our stay. We were amateurs but we made the most of what we had.

Allow me to share some valuable lessons I learned during our two-day stint up close with nature....

Never trust the weather forecast. What the weatherman says like a week or a few days before can drastically change in a heartbeat. I learned this the hard way, or should I say, we did. Our first foray into camping turned out to be a not too pleasant experience ( and the kind that we hoped for ) when we were caught off guard with the rain during our stay. Of all the days to be raining, it had to be on our first day and the next day. Fortunately, we managed to set up our tents before the rain turned into a light downpour. We were also thankful for the trees in our campsite that provided a bit of cover. But all in all, I still enjoyed it.

 Happily played "photographer" the entire time and met Ke$ha on the beach.

Be prepared. I find this very important only after. We didn't anticipate the weather changing so we came with just clothes appropriate for hot summer days. We didn't realize that it gets cold during the night, especially when the temperature starts to dip low. The first night, I tossed and turned and was cold, I stayed half-awake most of the time during the night. I couldn't wait for morning to come.

Just roll with the punches. I'd be lying if I say that I was comfortable going to the outhouse or lay down so close to the ground, with just an air mattress in between. I miss the comfort of my own bed. Then there's the issue of not being able to take a normal shower ( the kind I'm used to ). After two days, I feel dirty. I dreaded the time when I need to go to the washroom because I don't like to look at the black void underneath. But then, I think that's the point of camping, to get away from the "comforts" of daily life. Frankly, it was kind of  relaxing to sit on the folding chair, with my feet up on the bench and a drink on my hand, while I listened to the different sounds around me -the rustle of leaves as a light breeze fanned the trees; the somewhat annoying sound of the crows overhead; the happy shrieks of kids while they play at a nearby clearing and the soft rumble of an occasional car as it navigated around the campsite. Its cool that for once, I didn't have to think or worry about anything. My cellphone was stashed safely in my backpack.

 After two days and two nights, we were ready to go. We couldn't wait to get back to our routines. We had breakfast first before we pack our stuff. And after we made sure that everything was in order and our belongings safely stashed in the car, we were off.

I told my sister that I like camping and would like to do it again. She said she liked it too, except for the part when she had to crawl to get into the tent. As for me, I like it. My only concern was going to the outhouse, but I think its way better than having to squat on the bush.Till next time. :-)

Hey, brother and sister.

"I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at." - Maya Angelou

There was a time, especially during high school, when I used to be embarrassed whenever someone asked me questions like, "How many are you in the family?' or "How many brothers and sisters do you have?' I was like, not again. Now, when someone ask me these same questions, my reply to the first would be a brief "Nine." and the latter would take a considerable time while I do the math then I'd say, "I have six sisters and two brothers. And I'm the eldest." Both of my answers would be met with surprise or a "Wow" reaction. And I'm like, yes, tell me about it.

I still can't figure out how my mother ever managed to have nine kids. While growing up, I remembered her being pregnant, then she'd be gone for a few days and when she came back home, she'd have a baby in her arms. I have never seen her in labor or wailing and mouthing off expletives ( just like shown in the movies or TV shows ) because she was in pain. When I was old enough to know what was going on, the arrival of a new baby, like every couple of years or so, has lost its appeal. I started to ask questions and resented the fact that our family kept growing. Of course, my questions were ignored. I heard talks that my parents wanted to have a son, so that was it. True enough, after seven daughters, my two brothers arrived and that's how we get to be nine.

"Our siblings push buttons that cast us in roles we felt sure we had let go of long ago — the baby, the peacekeeper, the caretaker, the avoider.... It doesn’t seem to matter how much time has elapsed or how far we’ve traveled." - Jane Mersky Leder

Once, someone told me that it must be fun to be in a big family. I thought about that remark for a long time. I think it depends on how you define "fun".  It was never fun for me, at least back then. Everything has to be shared equally and to the last bit or else there'd be "war". My mother has become adept at making sure that food was divided in equal portions,  among us kids. I remembered a particular incident, when she had to forgo her share because one of my younger sister or brother ( I can't remember anymore ) wanted more of something. As I watched her silently, I realized then, that she's not just some woman who had babies all the time. She's our "Nanay" and will always be.

I grew up knowing that I have to keep myself in line and have to set a good example for my younger siblings. My parents didn't have to talk to me about this but it was assumed and I figured that since I'm the eldest, it is expected of me. There were times that I wish I have an older brother or sister. And even now, I still think how nice it would be to have an older sibling.  Wishful thinking, I suppose.

"Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring — quite often the hard way."- Pamela Dugdale

One day, my brother and I had the chance to chat on Facebook and after the usual exchange of Hi's and How are you's, we get to talk about things, way back when he was younger. He reminded me how ill-tempered I was and how scared they were when I get angry. And I thought to myself, he remembers.  One time when I found out that my mother was pregnant for the eighth time, I gave her the cold shoulder. I didn't talk to her for a few days but I also looked up baby boy names, secretly. I wasn't sure if it was just pure coincidence, my mother gave birth to a baby boy. They were all happy. I was happy. A few years after that, another baby boy arrived. For some reason, I doted on my younger brothers. When I was away at school, I used to save part of my allowance so I could buy presents for them when I come home for a visit. Too bad they both didn't get to spend a lot of time with our father because he passed away too soon.

"Our siblings. They resemble us just enough to make all their differences confusing, and no matter what we choose to make of this, we are cast in relation to them our whole lives long." - Susan Scarf Merrell

I don't see my younger siblings as often now since I moved away from home. We don't talk much. They're miles away, they may as well be in a different world. But whenever we do get to talk, I am transported back in time and sometimes, it feels like I've never left.

One day, while I watched the movie "Cheaper by the Dozen", I thought about my brothers and sisters and was inspired to write. Hence, this post. I guess the movie reminded me of them, who knows.

Summertime sadness.

"In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks." - John Muir

Lately, I have no interest to update my blog. Nothing much is happening in my life anyway. Once in a while, I make an exception though. I mean, hey, life's too short to worry about stuff like, life not exciting enough. But just to give you a heads up, what I've written here is far from exciting so....

 Summer is definitely upon us and it makes me painfully aware that Nancy is not here. She used to say that she can't wait for summer to come so she can sit outside and enjoy it. We'd talk about the flowers and have cold drinks. While she'd bask in the sun's warmth, Moxie and I would stay in the shade and cool ourselves. Sometimes, I wish for rain to come so I can go for a run and have a good cry, while at it.

Happier times.

 I think I never learn. I told myself a few times, not to get attached and care too much about someone. Or not feel too happy about what's going on in my life. But I did the exact opposite. I care about Nancy and now she's gone. I went "crazy" with running ( and I still am ) and my feet acted up. I thought life was good  then things change.

I try to look for distractions anywhere I can find it, however short-lived. I went hiking with Rita and her friends. One day, we found ourselves on a slippery, seaweed-covered  rocks on the beach and as I inched my way through it, the thought of slipping come to mind. The possibility of a fall or twisting my ankle scares me but at the same time, gives me a rush. Physical pain, sometimes is some form of distraction until such time when it gets too much that I have to reach for Ibuprofen. Hiking on the trails give me an illusion that I'm out for a run. Time spent outside makes me feel good. But after it was over and done, I'm back to square one. Then one time, I turned my attention to vodka ( with orange juice ) and for awhile there, I had the time of my life. Until the next morning, when my head felt like it weigh a ton and my stomach felt weird that my appetite eluded me for a day.

 So what brought this on? I guess, I'm sad. See, I'm not even sure that I am. Probably, because I had no reason to, until of late. And it's more noticeable because I haven't been to my "happy place" in a long time. I'm not the type who dwell on the not-so-good things in life. Perhaps, because I don't usually think about them, until now. Too much thinking has its downside I suppose. 

Better get back to my reading. And learning new words.

One mouth-watering lasagna-making day.

Just to be clear, before I go any further, I’m not responsible for this mouth-watering activity. Rita is. Because whenever someone asks me if I know how to cook, I can’t really give a straight answer. Oftentimes, I’d say, I don’t know but I’m willing to learn, if needed. But enough of that.

Rita is an excellent cook, as evidenced by my thickening waistline.  No amount of running can compensate for the second helpings that I usually have of almost everything that she puts on the table. The kitchen always smells so good when she’s around, that it’s hard to stay away. I don’t want to stay away. Much more so when I get to lick a wooden spoon, smeared with something decadent or get a whiff of something that makes me heady with anticipation. 

Lasagna, let me count the ways.

The first time I had homemade lasagna ( which Rita made ) was a life-altering moment for me, in a way that, I won’t be able to eat lasagna again without having to compare it with the one she makes. It is delicious. I’m trying to remember the way it melts in my mouth and takes me to “lasagna” heaven. Writing about it now, makes my mouth waters. And makes me hungry too.

Since I came to stay with them, I think this was the third time that I get to see first-hand all the work involve in making homemade pasta, in this instance, lasagna. The first two times, Rita was with a group of friends. Last Wednesday, it was just the two of us. And had the music on. She had all the dough made the night before. I watched her rolled and cut them into pieces before she put them through the pasta maker (I’m not really sure about the name so I’m just guessing here.) The entire process is fascinating. I am fascinated.  

Back to my story, Rita work tirelessly that day. She had two huge pots going on the stove. We had two tables covered with tablecloth where the lasagna was laid out to dry. And to make myself useful, I helped her in whatever that needs to be done. I was at the sink doing the dishes. Occasionally, I asked her questions, about this and that.  But most of the time, I just watched her work.

It took us almost the entire day to get everything done. And its kind of neat that I get to actually take part in it. Thanks to Rita. :-)
 

Confessions of a reluctant caregiver, in retrospect.

I had the chance to go over my blog one day, and came across  a post  I wrote four years ago. It was about my feelings and thoughts of working as a live-in caregiver. At that time, I was scared of being not up for the job and doing something wrong. I remembered crying after the first week in my first job because I was overwhelmed.

A lot has changed in four years. My fear of being not up for the task or making mistakes disappeared. Although not entirely, but I don't think so much about them anymore. Instead, I focused on doing my job well and think of ways to do it better.

I didn't plan on becoming a live-in caregiver. I had grand plans for myself, unfortunately, they didn't pan out. I guess they weren't meant to be. I didn't  realized that I'd be doing something far more remarkable.

The first time I met Nancy seemed like ages ago, when I think about it now. At that time, I felt anxious about starting a new job and all. She made me forget that. One thing I'd always remember is that, after we were introduced, I felt like I've met her before and have known her for a long time. She held onto my hand and gave me a smile. Right there and then, I knew that we're off to a good start and we'd get along fine. And we did. Besides, she reminded me a lot of my grandmother. Nancy was the first person to point it out to me that I'm a runner because I love to run. She worried about me getting cold and not having enough to eat. She told me, more than a few times, that  I'm part of the family.

I was away for a month to visit my family, so Nancy had to go to respite. I assured her that I will be back and that  time would just go by so fast, for the both of us. I came back and was happy to see her again. I'm sure she was happy to see me too. But a few days later, she died.  After that, the days went by in a blur. I'm sad and I feel lost. Whenever someone asked me how I'm doing, my usual reply of "I'm good." comes in handy. I'm not really sure if I do feel good though. But I try to. I know that death is an inevitable part of the human condition. I get that Nancy was 93 years old and had various ailments, that came with being old. But I wasn't prepared and was caught off-guard when she passed away. I always thought that we still have a few more years to hang out together.

I've been told how good I am with her. But the the thing is, it was a team effort. I wouldn't be able to do my job well if Nancy was not that good-natured and amiable. And easy to get along with. Through the course of time that I worked for her, sometimes, I felt like I was a drill sergeant, that went over our routines like clock work. Of course, I always tell her to feel free to say something if I get way out of line. But she always tells me that she had no complaints and assured me that everything I did was perfect.

It was a privilege to work for her. Aside from the financial aspect that came with the job, working for her has opened my eyes to the intricacies of being an elderly and what it feels like to be one. She showed me the importance of family and their support. But most of all, she made me feel that I belong and for once, I did something right and somehow, made a difference in her life.

It is the "heart" month, what the ____!!!

As I was going over my blog, one night, it occurred to me that it is February. It's no wonder I started seeing hearts on TV ads and cutesy stuff. It makes sense, Valentine's Day, is a few days away.

The subject of romance and love is not lost on me. It becomes all too popular during this month and heavily commercialized, not that it matters. I am single and not seeing anyone. And fortunately, not looking. But it doesn't mean that I'm averse to relationships. I just know that it's not for me. If it works for others, then good for them. But just because I'm not dating doesn't mean I don't appreciate "romance" and things like, love stories.

"I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude." - Henry David Thoreau 

Just in case, you find yourself alone on Valentine's Day, don't feel bad or feel sorry for yourself. Grab something to eat ( I'm not saying, you go on an all-out binge, though. ) and have something to drink ( I don't suggest that you get drunk, especially if you're driving.). Then get comfortable on the couch and watch a movie. It doesn't matter what kind of movie it is. But if you're up for something romantic, I have a few suggestions. I've watched them more than a few times.

• Something Borrowed
• Made of Honor
• You've Got Mail
• Pride and Prejudice
• The Lucky One

Or, if you're into TV series, I recommend BONES ( Booth and Brennan's chemistry is great. You'd enjoy this show if decomposed bodies doesn't gross you out or if you don't mind Brennan's lengthy explanations of things. )And then there's Matthew and Mary from Downton Abbey. I especially like their story. But after the death of Matthew in Season 3, I lost interest in it. I suppose, they're the only reason I watched the show in the first place.

On a more serious note, really, you don't need to feel sorry for yourself if you're alone or unattached ( or whatever politically correct term there is ) on Valentine's Day or any other day, for that matter. I mean, you owe it to yourself not to. I'm single but I don't feel sorry for myself. I think there are far worse things than being single. And I don't think it makes me less of a person because I am unmarried or not dating or whatever. Sure, you get all these comments and what not, about how come you're single or not married or not dating. Sometimes, people think it is odd. The trick is to just let them talk and speculate, until they get tired of it. Eventually, they do.

So cheer up and have that drink!

Happy Valentine's Day!

The numbers don't lie but I don't want to die ( I mean, go on a diet.).

Home-made pizza. 

With a new year upon us, people ( well, some anyway ) get into this habit of doing the "resolution" thing. And always, most of the time, it is geared towards getting fit--say like, exercise more, eat healthier and so on and so forth. I think it is a commendable undertaking, one that requires a strong resolve and commitment. Something that I'm not too keen on taking on.

I'm a "food person", whatever that means-- the only thing I can come up with, as some kind of an explanation, is that I love to eat. I rarely say "No" to food. I am all for it. And to be hungry is something I don't want to get in to because "I'm not myself when I'm hungry." ( To quote a Snickers chocolate bar ad. )

So, for obvious reasons I can't go on a "diet" or try to follow one because I know I'd end up not doing it. A few years ago, I put on excess pounds, that got me the moniker "Pooh" and "Panda". I was so fat that I was mistaken for being pregnant. And one time, when I had to buy a shirt and needed a size past large, I was directed to check out the men's section. Embarrassing, I know. But it took me awhile to realize that I need to do something about it.

I get to play with my food and eat it too.

Anyway, I did lose weight. And what drastic moves I did, you wonder. For starters, I didn't "starve" myself. By this, I mean, I didn't skip meals. I even eat more. I think the only thing I did different was I started running. And to have the energy to do so, I need to eat more.

For me, food is too hard to pass up, especially desserts. I have this reasoning that, I should eat and enjoy food while I still can and not worry too much about calories. I'm not saying that I eat like there's no tomorrow or in excess. Of course, there's always the second helping but I know when to stop when I've had enough. Just because I profess to love food and eating, doesn't mean that I'd eat anything there is. I have reservations too, mind you.

I also enjoy an occasional drink or two.

I don't step on the scale every day to check my weight and fuss about it. It's pointless. One thing I know for sure is that, it is nowhere near the ideal weight that I should be in, especially if I want to run faster. Of late, I've been bogged down with this idea---lose weight---just so I can run a bit faster than what I normally do. An acquaintance told me that running is easier when you're lighter. Now, that got me thinking too.

But really, no amount of resolve will stop me from having another slice of cheesecake or a couple more biscuits. Or an extra butter tart or another piece of fruit cake. Perhaps when I get so desperate ( I'm not sure when that will be though.), I'd put blinders on or stuff my nose so I'd be oblivious to the sight and smell in the kitchen.

For now, I'd enjoy food as I can. And run on the side, I guess.:-)

The year that was 2013...lessons learned.

"Life is made up of moments, small pieces of glittering mica in a long, stretch of gray cement. It would be wonderful if they came to us unsummoned, but particularly in lives as busy the ones most of us lead now, that won't happen. We have to teach ourselves how to make room for them, to love them, and to live, really live." - Anna Quindlen

As evidenced by three filled Moleskine notebooks, I can say that I've been busy with writing last year. It's kind of fun to flip through the pages and get a scribbled ( sometimes, a hasty and sloppy one ) reminder of what transpired on a particular day.

I started writing in a journal, more than a year, after I first arrived in Canada. I find it cathartic, besides, I've always like to write. It gives me an excuse to hone my writing skills. Not to mention,"talking" to myself, without anyone thinking I'm mad.

Before I completely get into 2014 and get silly, like come up with New Year's resolutions ( that I won't follow through ), I thought it'd be a good idea to take a trip down memory lane and reminisced the year that was 2013 and the lessons learned....

One of the things I'm thankful for, is my sister. Our get-together once in awhile is something I always look forward to.

Sometimes, life sucks, but live anyway, rather than just exist.

I have had my fair share of unfavorable events or circumstances ( or whatever you may call them) that at some point made me think of going down the bay and jump in the water. ( I've been warned though, that the water would be cold, especially at this time of the year, so clearly, I have no intention to drown myself.) There are things I've hope for that never came through. I've been disappointed, frustrated, annoyed, angered... ( I've run out of adjectives here. ) But the thing is, I'm still here. For all the crappy stuff that happened in my life, I'm still alive. And for me, that counts for something. I could mope and wallow in self-pity, but I know I won't get anything good out of it. So, I choose to live instead and move on.

Courage is not the absence of fear.

This I found to be true. I've done things where I put up a brave front, when the truth is, I'm a bundle of nerves inside ( sometimes to a point where I get an upset stomach ). I learned that being brave, does not necessarily mean that I'm devoid of fears and uncertainties. The following quote summed it up.

"Courage to me is doing something daring, no matter how afraid, insecure, intimidated, alone, unworthy, incapable, ridiculed or whatever other paralyzing emotion you might feel. Courage is taking action, no matter what. Be afraid. Be scared silly to the point you're trembling and nauseous, but do it anyway!" - Richelle E. Goodrich

Being thankful for everything, either good or bad, goes a long way.

It's hard to feel grateful when things aren't going the way I want them to be. Often, I'd be more inclined to "rant and rave" or turn the music up. ( And this, I'd probably do within the confines of my bedroom, especially the "rant and rave" part, if I ever get to it. ) Or worse, "confront" the powers that be, why He's picking on me. But I realized that, giving thanks despite all the disappointments and frustrations in my life, somehow takes away a bit of the pain and heartache. Being thankful always remind me that no matter how bad my day is or how boring my life seem to be, there's always tomorrow to look forward to.

My cheesecake love affair, I wish I know how to quit you.

I have a sweet tooth, that much I can say. I love desserts of which I rarely get to indulge before. So, desserts of all kinds---I'm all for it. I can't exactly remember when I first had cheesecake but I'm sure it was when I moved in with my "adopted" family in Cowichan Bay.

Amarula Cheesecake. The best one I've ever had and much more so because Rita made it for my birthday. 

I am fortunate to enjoy the kind that you don't get from the store. The ones I have had were all made from scratch. And what's more cool about it, is I'm there to witness the whole process. Then afterward, I get to lick bowls and spoons.

Lemon-Lime Cheesecake. I don't know about you, but to say "No, thanks." to this is crazy. 

Cheesecake is not something to be devoured. For me, it is delicate, so you just don't go and dig in. The "melt-in-your-mouth" sensation has to be enjoyed at leisure. Like any other desserts, it is loaded with tons of calories that any sane individual try to avoid ( at all costs ). I, on the other hand, become oblivious to the caloric content of my new-found love and lose myself in it. Calories? To heck with it.

Here's hoping for more cheesecake in the years to come. :-)

All I want for Christmas...

If not for the Christmas lights and Christmas decorations I see everywhere, I wouldn't have notice that its just a few days before Christmas. Someone asked me if I think about it. Christmas, she meant. I replied, sometimes.

I remembered about writing a letter to Santa, like a couple of years ago, but it didn't pan out. I suppose at this time, he is busy and all. I don't expect to be on his "Naughty or Nice" list because for one, I don't think I'm naughty and because I'm already 37, I'm sure, he couldn't care less if I'm nice. I wish Santa have some help, aside from the elves, that can cater to a grown-up's Christmas wish, like mine.

"Christmas is a time when you get homesick---even when you're home." -
Carol Nelson

Anyway, I still think it would be fun to convey to him my heart's desire which is more amplified at this festive time of the year. If he is really magical or something, I assume he already know what I want. But just in case, he is distracted with the tons of letters coming his way, I took the liberty to jog his memory, with the assumption that he has access to the internet.

Drum roll please....here goes my Christmas wishlist...

DSLR camera. I've always wanted a Nikon one. I love taking pictures to a fault. I don't think I need to elaborate.

Laptop. My netbook is still working but it sure is getting slow. And part of the keyboard doesn't work anymore because I slammed my fist into it. At one point, I lose patience.

Amazon Kindle Paperwhite. Just so I can say I'm a well-rounded reader.

It's not a long list. I can't think of anything else that I'd like for Christmas, tangible things, that is. I just thought it would be fun to have a go at this "wishlist" thing.

Merry Christmas!!!

Wake me up when October ends.

My resolve to write more often was just that---a resolve. I never get really around to it. Its funny how my brain process these myriad of thoughts but when I try to write them down, nothing happens.

I love fall.

At this time of the year, from where I'm at, is beautiful. The leaves in various shades of color is pretty, not to mention the "crunch" sound they made. I think fall is my favorite season, doesn't matter if its cold and rainy. So, before October disappears into the pile of months gone by, I decided to make a rundown of what I've been up to. And if you do visit my blog, then you'll know about it too. :-)

I ran more often, which works fine for me and more so because I had races to prepare for. I ran in the Victoria Marathon for the first time, which was held during the Thanksgiving weekend. It was the best run I ever did by far. Then two weeks after that, I did the Shawnigan-Kinsol Half Marathon. Needless to say, I've been told I'm crazy. But really, I think there's only one person who knows why I run.

Collection. 

At the moment, I'm reading "A Feast for Crows", book four of George R.R. Martin's "A Song of Ice and Fire" saga. I have to say this, after I read "The Game of Thrones" , something just clicked and I'm hooked. Though sometimes, after a few pages while at it, I dozed off--- must be the too fine print.

I get to watch a live concert for the first time at Rogers Arena. It was PiNK's The Truth About Love Tour. I've always like her, since she first started. Never thought I'd get to see her perform live in person, albeit at a distance. Her voice wasn't really at par due to medical issues but she did sang live. She put a really good show and did awesome acrobatic moves, which was really cool.

Anyway, November is here and I know what that means. :-)

Yes, fall is here, what's up?

Fall started more than a week ago. I didn't realize that I blow up the entire month of September without a single post. I practically bounce back and forth from being lazy to not being motivated enough to write. And I tell you it is not for lack of something to write about or time. I'm just being lazy. So, while I basked in a perpetual state of laziness, I can't help but take stock of what I've been up to for the past few months. Mind you, it is not mind-blowing stuff but it gets me off from the haze to come up with this post.

I didn't do anything too exciting this past spring, except run in my second marathon in Vancouver last May. Then I did the "Shawnigan Lake Adventure" in June. To sign up for races and actually do them is the only thing I can think of, that can be equated as "physically challenging". Then summer rolled in and everything was bright and hot. The days were longer and I enjoyed the early morning runs I did and I get to watch the sunrise on the side. I wasn't crazy about "staying out in the sun to get tan" though. Besides, I think I'm brown enough. I've been asked a few times how come I don't like being out there too much, when it was sunny, when I come from a tropical country. Oh well....

I get to watch a dragon boat race for the first time and eventually, get the chance to be on the boat and paddled, like crazy, as if my life depended on it. It was an awesome experience and to be out there, in the water was neat. I sure have a lot of respect for those dragon boat paddlers---it is no easy task. It is a hard workout that requires strength, dedication and commitment. And they get camaraderie and lots of fun in return. Not to mention toned arms and strong upper body.

The highlight of my morning runs during summer. Never fails to amaze me. :-)

As for my reading, it is still going, as I expect it to be. I mean, I don't see reading and my love for books as just a passing fancy in my life. They are a part of my life and will always be, as long as I'm still able to read---which brought this brief discussion with my sister, one day. I told her that if for some unfortunate circumstances, I'd be rob off of my mental faculties, I grant her authority to decide what she seem best for me. I don't see any point of plodding on if my mind is no longer there. This sound morbid but it is reality. We all die eventually, anyway.

Fall is one of my favorite time of the year. I love the play of colors on the trees. Sure it is cold and all, but then, that's part of it. And I like the way the dried leaves make the "crunch" sound when I step on them. Then there's Halloween and Thanksgiving. :-)

So anyway, I think this is all for now. Hopefully, I'd muster enough resolve to write a post or two, in the next few months. Now, I'd better get back to my reading. Otherwise, I'd be thinking about my upcoming "long run" and just the mere mention of it makes me sick.

Enjoy fall while it lasts because winter is coming.....

Life is too short not to do "boot camp" and drink beer. :-)

Work it!!!

I'm all for doing physical stuff than can be equated to subjecting myself to "torture" and sweating it out like crazy. That's why I love running and marathons. Though I've been told that it's not good for me. Oh, well.

I'm willing to try anything physically challenging, as long as it doesn't require me to be graceful or involves dancing. But let's not get to the "being graceful" or dancing part right now.

I've tag along with Rita when she went to boot camp, more than a couple of times. At first, I just sat on the side and watched them have a go at it. For awhile there, that was all I did, just watch. Until one day, she talked me into giving it a try. And so I did, I hardly say no, anyway.

Post-workout drink. :-)

That first day , while Simon, the trainer, showed the exercises to be done, I thought to myself, I can do that. Forty-five minutes later, I did it all right but my body felt like its been toss and slam around by the bad guys, just like in the movies and left for dead. During a brief break, I told Rita that I'm going to die and she replied, "No, you won't." I could feel muscles that I don't usually use when I run or when I do other stuff. My shoulders, triceps and glutes were sore afterward. When I woke up the next morning, I ached all over, the slight movement made me grimace in pain, of which I did in private. The "grimace" part, I mean.

Anyway, I'm glad I gave it a try and found out that I can do it. And the best part of that first boot camp workout was I get to enjoy a nice, cold beer with my lunch. Yes, I'm spoiled.

So, after that initial foray into a "fun kind of torture", I'm hooked and like to do it again. Fortunately for me, Rita doesn't mind and is game to have me, tag along with her. And Simon is a cool and nice guy too. I love every minute of it and I always think it's fun. I'd do it all over again, no questions asked. Never mind that I'm sore the next day because it's all worth it.

Never stop ..... :-)

Indigo's Q & A, my take....

I haven't been updating my blog regularly. I can't make time for it or I'm just being lazy lately. Anyway, I thought I'd  come up with my own spin on Indigo Chapters' WRITERS UNBLOCKED ( I don't think it doesn't really matter that I'm not a writer. ) So, here goes....

How I Read?

If it's up to me, I probably would read all the time. But then there are other things that needs to be done. I don't have a favorite place to read. A comfy chair is a must, I suppose. I read wherever it is comfortable for me to do so and the lighting must be good too. One time, I unroll a yoga mat on my bedroom floor, lay on my tummy and read. It wasn't the most comfortable position though. I don't have a special attire for reading. I read in whatever clothes I put on at any given day. As for reading in bed, I'm not too keen on it, unless I'm reading something that is really, really good that I can't put it down and befits staying up way past my bedtime. I do have a book within reach, so I can get into it whenever I feel like flipping through the pages before drifting off to sleep. Falling asleep while reading in bed hasn't happen to me yet. But falling asleep while reading, I've done it more than a few times during the day. I read a few pages then fall asleep without me even realizing it, until I notice that I'm still on the same page that I started minutes ago.

A perfection combination.

What I Read?

I seldom go for days without reading a book or two. I can't say I read every available genre there is. Usually, it all depends on my interest. And I always like a good story wherein I can lose myself and never want to stop reading until I get to the end. At present, I'm reading Jeffrey Archer's Best Kept Secret. I like to read Ken Follett's Edge of Eternity ( book #3 of The Century Trilogy ) and book #3 of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire saga.


What about you?