This morning, a tragic thing happened.

One of my earrings fell down the drain.

Okay, before anybody laughs at me (although I'm pretty sure someone already did), let me explain the significance of this loss.

First of all, it's a starfish earring. A starfish. Most people know by now—and if you don't, well, now you do—that I absolutely love stars.

Secondly, I like that earring because it's small, and it works with whatever I wear: be it office clothes, formal dresses or the all-around shirt and jeans power combo.

Thirdly (and most importantly), it was given to me by Lori, one of my best friends.

Rawr.

*sigh*

Well, at least I still have one of the earrings... I guess I'll just look for another star earring with which I can match the remaining starfish.

Labels: life, randomness

Posted by sarah at 11:05 PM | Permalink | Comments | links to this post

You know how sometimes it feels like the day ahead would be perfect... only, several minutes later, everything winds up into chaos? We all get those mornings at least once in our lives, methinks. Today was one of those times.

Read full post...

I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and, as an added bonus, an earlier than I should. This meant that I could go to sleep again, with the added luxury of feeling as if I had slept in. I woke up an hour and a half later, with the added torture of a migraine headache. Oh, joy.

I dressed and got ready in record time, and managed to leave the house on time. I've walked a block when I realized that I've accidentally left my phone. While I was fishing for my keys in my bag, the zipper snapped.

By the time I got out of subdivision it was 9 AM -- that's pretty late — and I knew that there was no hope of getting a cab; I'd have to get on a jeep, which will make me even more late for work. But voila! There was a cab — and from a really good company, too.

Traffic flow was surprisingly light, the train was incredibly spacious, and somehow, despite my bad start, I got to the office with 10 minutes to spare. So I had breakfast in the cafeteria, swallowed a paracetamol tablet and prayed that my headache would go away.

So I guess I'll just have to wait and see how the rest of my day goes. So far, though, everything's going much much better than it did in the beginning. Moral of the story? Even when things go wrong, hold out a bit longer because the day can only get better.

Labels: life, randomness

Posted by sarah at 11:13 AM | Permalink | Comments | links to this post

My mom and I were looking through old photos today.

Our family will be hosting this year's Cada Family reunion in Umingan, Pangasinan. That'll be more or less 100 adults and 50 or so kids (until high schoolers). One of the stuff we're going to do is show a not-so-formal slide presentation of photos from the previous years. Thus the photo hunt.

Looking through photos, as many probably already know, is fun. Okay, so it can get tiring at one point (especially if you're sifting through a hundred gazillion photos over the last 20 years) but it still triggers flashbacks, laughter, and exclamations of "Ack! Big 80s hair! Away, away!!!!"

Read full post...Admit it: you might not enjoy organizing photos, but looking at them (whether organized or no) is enjoyable (especially if you're in them).

I dunno what we were doing, but it looks like we were having fun

My mom and I enjoyed ourselves today. There were times when my mom would say, "Remember that photo of you and your brother and your cousin Tom skating in the park?" or something similar and equally detailed. And then I would go, "We went skating in the park?" But my mom would remember nearly each photo she took. We didn't find some photos at first, but when we finally unearthed them in the deep recesses of my room (I didn't even know it was there!) I was simply amazed at my mom's memory. Just amazing. And looking at them pictures gave me a really nostalgic feeling. (Mixed with wishful thinking that someday I would be as good a photographer as my mom is.)

Looking through those photos were awesome. Since we were looking at family photos, I was reminded of how great it is to have a family like mine. (It also made me feel slightly guilty that I still haven't fully mastered all the names of my many cousins and nieces and nephews).

Bubble fun with Tim and Sarah

There were some pictures that I didn't even remember existed. Some photos were long-lost and presently found. But, and let me quote from a previous post, lessons from a manual camera, "...every shot has a story. [E]very moment is a kodak (or agfa, fuji, whatever) moment."

Labels: family, life, photography

Posted by sarah at 10:27 PM | Permalink | Comments | links to this post

No, not the drink.

Coffee is my dog, and has been for nearly twelve years.

Until today.

Read full post...Way back in February 5, 1996 (yup, I remembered his birthday) our then family dog gave birth to a cute litter of five puppies. I selected the chubby brown one because (1) he's male so he won't give birth to another litter which makes life easier for me and (2) he's was just too cute!

[Just in case you're wondering: we gave away the rest of the puppies, and the mom we brought to my grandmother's house]

When he started to walk, Kuya Tim and I loved playing with him. What we'd do is stand at the opposite sides of the garage and take turns calling him. We were basically making him exercise his legs, plus we were making him get used to his name... AND we loved to watch him walk. I mean, come on! It was a round, chubby little puppy walking awkwardly... He was so adorable.

And then when I trained him to behave outside the house. I walked with him for a few meters outside our house everyday. I didn't put him on a leash to communicate trust, and he walked beside me the whole time. One day I decided to let him go out on his own. I opened the gate for him and waited. Coffee stood by the opened gate, looked out, looked up at me... looked out again, and looked at me again.

He wouldn't leave without me. Argh. It was so endearing I nearly cried.

Well, yeah, eventually he got used to going out on his own, and he got to that stage where he loved to play tricks on me. I would open the gate to call him home, and then he would run towards me, and then he would suddenly change direction to run somewhere else.

We had his tail cut down to one inch when he was a month old. That earned him subdivision-wide fame. Our neighbors' kids actually asked me many times if they could borrow my dog and play with him in their house.

We trained him to stay in the garage and not inside the house. Inside the house was baaaaad for doggies. So he stayed outside. If for some reason I took him inside the house he would stiffen and look around all panicky as if he was thinking "What the heck am I doing in here?" and then, at the soonest possible time, make his way back outside.

When we had our house renovated, he made friends with the carpenters. The first time, he played with them. Several years later when he had our house renovated again, he played Supervisor. He would go inside the house, look over the work, patrol the rooms, and station himself at the door. I kid you not. And he even escorted my brother to his trips to the hardware store.

He learned to behave himself inside the house during that time, and familiarized himself with the house, as well. Since then, we would let him come in and out of the house as he pleased.

He also learned how to knock on our gate.

He ate Noche Buena with us last Christmas. Even though he was right there sitting beside our table, he didn't jump on us or bug us to give him food. He just stayed there and waited because he knew he'd get his turn.

Kuya Ace called him a "LionWolfDog" Because his fur stuck out near his face like a lion's mane, but from the sideways and by the way he stood, he looked like a wolf. But, of course, he was a dog.

When there was a fire in our neighborhood, Coffee was the one who stayed with me and sat with me as the panic subsided.

He became a gourmet mutt when my brother went to culinary school.

Whenever he sees people talking, he would situate himself between those people, look from one person to the other as if he understood them, and then sit comfortably between those people. We call it "nag-carpet" (making himself a carpet/rug).

He knew our car's voice. When my dad would come home, he would bark at me as if to say "Hurry up!!!" and even beat me to the gate.

When I left the house today, he was supervising the painters who were cleaning our fence. When he saw me, he went towards me and then stretched at my feet (that's his weird way of showing that he wanted us to pat his head or something). So I patted his head and ruffled his fur as I stepped out.

Two hours later, he got hit by a car. Well... not really a car. They said it was a small truck. My dad didn't see it happen, though. Coffee didn't have any wounds or anything. He didn't bleed. My dad tried to revive him. Coffee breathed three times, and then he left.

When I heard the news, I was at Sara's place. I was actually about to go home (sorta...but Sara invited me to stay for lunch). I decided that I didn't want to go home and see him so lifeless. I wanted to remember him as he was when I last saw him. Maybe it was selfish of me, but... yeah. I wasn't there when my dad buried him.

Coffee was smart, friendly, cuddly, strong... and one heck of a good-looking dog, especially for a mutt. I was there when he was born, and I raised him.

And now he's gone.

He died in the battlefield. He was a funny old dog, he lived a long life, and he left us with great memories.

Love ya, Coffee. You had a great run.

Labels: coffee, life, pets

Posted by sarah at 10:23 PM | Permalink | Comments | links to this post

Yes, in case anybody's wondering: a lot has been going in my life right now. And I mean a LOT. As I told my mentor the other day, ala-telenovela ang linggo ko.

I'll write about it eventually, but right now I'm too much in a "floating in the clouds" mood, and at the same time I've got a mountain of wonderful work to do... And no, there is no sarcasm in that phrase.

In the meantime, here's a meme.

Your Native American Name Is...

Chista Kuwanyauma Your name means: Fair Butterfly Showing Beautiful Wings

Ooooooh. I like~ :)

Labels: life, randomness

Posted by sarah at 9:35 PM | Permalink | Comments | links to this post

So I finally got me a birthday gift to myself.

New glasses!

FINALLY!

Err...Okay. So you might think, "Aren't you getting a bit too excited over a pair of glasses?"

Well, try having to wear them every minute every day for more than 15 years, and let's see if you won't get serious about them. Read full post...

'Sides, my old glasses are 7 years old. Talk about long-overdue retirement! Yeesh.

Aside from finally getting a new pair, I also went and got myself a new style, too. I usually gravitate towards silver frames, or at least frames that don't look too bulky. I suppose it's mostly because of my eyebrows -- I don't need my glasses to emphasize them too much-- and my eyelashes -- I have nice eyelashes and I don't want to hide them. Also, I've always gotten round frames instead of square ones. Had to do with me face shape, I think.

So when I went to Trinoma last week I began looking at frames while waiting for my amigas. I had wanted a specific blue frame that I saw, but when I dragged my brother to the mall to get "fashion" advice, he preferred something else: a black/white/silver frame by Soviet. I didn't like it at all at first (I thought it made me look like a strict horn-rimmed spinster of a schoolteacher) but he kept insisting that they look nice on me.

Well, seeing that my brothers are the best fashion consultants I have, I went ahead and bought it, telling myself that I'd get used to them eventually.

This morning after work, I went to SM to get my new specs. When I wore them I was a bit overwhelmed. Things were way too friggin' clear that I was suddenly worried if I got my eyes refracted right (since optometrists do base their diagnoses from our responses to their questions) . "Ack! Maybe the grade is too high!" And then there's also the fact that my frames are of a different shape, and theres a rim closer to my eyelashes more than I was used to...

But, of course, all that's just because everything's so new (and I was a zombie from work, so my eyesight was a bit out of whack). Now, though, rested and testing out my new eyes, I can say I'm liking them!

Labels: life

Posted by sarah at 6:30 PM | Permalink | Comments | links to this post

The past two weeks, despite my blog silence, had been particularly...eventful.

Eventful but deflating.

A storm made life hard for everyone (especially us who still had to go to work despite the fact that the government cancelled all classes and closed offices), deadlines hounded me (so much so that 13-hour shifts have become a regular thing), work had been incredibly intellectually and emotionally draining (even more than usual), I had to "let go" of an employee (who didn't want to go, but I'll use the phrase "let go", anyway), my mother got sick (and it was so very hard to sit there beside her helplessly), and I didn't get to go to the Mrs. Fields blogger meet thingy (and I probably won't be able to go to the second Taste Asia meet) that I've been waiting for for nearly a month.

Typing out that paragraph just made me feel weak all over again. It wasn't depressing 24/7, of course, and yes, none of those things made me feel like it was the end of the world or something... But still, it was, like, one after the other day after day and it made my emotional energy go lower and lower, and everything just seemed duller and duller.

But you know what? If I learned anything about unfortunate events, it's this:

It's the crappy times in life that make the great times feel even greater.

The stark contrast makes white look brighter, and black look darker. It's like ice-cold water after a hot day, getting peace and quiet after the neighbor stops the noisy racket, or lounging on a sofa after a long traffic-jammed ride home.

Heh. Just thinking that makes me feel better already.

I've been told many times to focus not on the temporary, but instead on the eternal. Heck, I've told that to other people, too. But sometimes, I just forget. But when I do remember, it never fails to make me smile.

The trick now is toughing it out till the better times come.

Labels: life

Posted by sarah at 9:12 PM | Permalink | Comments | links to this post

I got this from OFWLAYF by lestat, who says that his real age is 19 1/2. Haha! At first, I thought, "Yeah, right!" But then check out my results:



Oh my God, it says I'm 12. @_@ Haha! Of course this is all theoretical, but the questions DO make you rethink your routines, habits and activities. ^_^

Want to see your real age and how long you'll live? Take the quiz!



Poodwaddle.com

Labels: life, meme

Posted by sarah at 10:35 PM | Permalink | Comments | links to this post