SCENE FROM THE LONDON PRODUCTION OF "WICKED"

OK. The actor who played Fiyero (Oliver Tompsett) was drop dead gorgeous and we enjoyed his performance. The show was FANTASTIC!

HANNAH'S GRADUATION

Here's a short video of Hannah's graduation and valedictory speech. She looked so beautiful on her graduation day. We are so proud of her just as we are proud of all of our children. She will attend Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah with a full academic scholarship. Enjoy the viewing!

ADVENTURES IN LONDON AND BERLIN

I don't really like posting unflattering photos but this photo above marks the time when things went downhill for me whilst wandering around London. We took a tour of the splendidly beautiful city of Bath---it was breathtaking---and upon visiting the "baths" which are really a series of pools built by the Romans which were excavated by the British and upon which the whole city of Bath was built upon, I began to sneeze uncontrollably, my nose began to run, my face began to swell, head aching, head bursting sensation, and voila---serious allergic reactions to whatever it was that coated "Bath". It was bad.

Here's a fun place where one can spend a full day and not get bored---the famed British Museum where antiquities abound. We had a great time studying wondrous exhibitions of great relics from thousands of years before Christ was born. I began to think of how utterly ignorant and arrogant we can be in thinking that just because the great peoples of ancient times existed before our so-called sophistications, that they could not be capable of wondrous achievements in art, science, architecture or even building great edifices and mammoth structures. Oh but it was staggering to be in the midst of great antiquities.

This photo above was taken on our 26th wedding anniversary. Yep---why not in Stonehenge? It was a beautiful English day until we got to the entrance to Stonehenge and it began to rain heavily! Undaunted, we opened our umbrellas and bravely circled around. Halfway through, the rain mysteriously stopped and suddenly, the sun shone warm enough to dry us up by the time we completed the revolution. Oh it was a wondrous day!

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This summer, we decided to embark on a tour of London and Berlin since our son Jordan was spending all of his Spring term with a coterie of BYU students studying Victorian authors as they trekked along from Glasgow to London for six weeks. Thus started-- if I may steal from the great bard himself, a somewhat divine comedy of errors.

The first mistake I made was being duped into flying with Virgin Atlantic. They advertised more room in economy with the commensurate higher fare, of course. WOW. What a crock. I get more room flying with Singapore Airlines and Asian people are supposed to be smaller with shorter legs! Their seats are SO narrow and legroom so minimal that a long 10 hour flight was hell. Never will I fly Virgin Atlantic again even if they have direct flights from Vegas to London. It would have been better to cut the flights in two to get a break from sitting like a pretzel.

Second mistake was flying into Gatwick Airport instead of Heathrow. Gatwick is further out from London and I was lured into taking the "direct" flight since Virgin did not have a direct flight from Vegas to Heathrow. Sadly, I can only blame myself for this mistake because I should have done my due diligence in researching this significant detail.

Third mistake was assuming that a cab ride from the airport to the hotel would be reasonable. Every site I checked assured me that the ride from Gatwick should cost at the most, £85 which would be about $170. But that's not what happened. Our arrival coincided with some kind of parade for the Queen and every road that led to our destination was blocked. So, after £125!, which translates to $250, the cab driver dropped us off at an underground train station (aka "The Tube") and gave us instructions to get off at Waterloo and then take another cab to our hotel which should only be a mile away from that stop. Well, while we were on the train with our huge suitcases, we discovered that the train stops at "Tower Bridge" which according to our Hilton site was the nearest Tube stop and a mere walking distance from the hotel. So, since our Tube tickets already cost us £9 each which translates to nearly $55, totaling a staggering $305, we've already spent on transportation to our hotel, we decided to get off at Tower Bridge. Brilliant idea because as it turned out, stopping at Waterloo would have cost us more. The sad part is, when we got off the train, we had to lug our suitcases up about 3 flights of stairs and then when we finally reached the ground, it was raining and our hotel was still not in sight. Magically, a cab appeared so we jumped in the cab. After nearly £17, we reached our hotel. Transfer total from Gatwick to our hotel? A whopping $339 later, we arrived. Travel time from Gatwick to our hotel: over THREE hours of luggage-toting-pulling-dragging plus all those stairs-that-never-seemed-to end whilst fighting our way through mobs of people underground. Egads. I was no longer in a good mood by then. (Note: The closest tube stop to the hotel was a mere 5 minute walk: London Bridge stop on the Jubilee line...)

The Hilton London Tower Bridge hotel is located a mere 5 minutes from the London Dungeons where Kurt's infamous relative, Guy Fawkes, was imprisoned and tortured. How apropo. But the hotel is plush and wonderful. We were upgraded to the executive floors with free use of their lovely executive lounge where oodles of wonderful drinks oozed and flowed...not to mention lovely snacks and cakes from 6am to 11pm. Plus free breakfast. That was nice. The beds were comfortable and plush. I love the European sheets and blankets. And chocolates on our pillows. That was a wonderful gift after our harrowingly expensive excursion from Gatwick.

What I loved about London: the brilliant museums. I could have spent more time browsing around. It was also Korean festival so there was a lot of commotion around Leicester Square. We walked around and by this time, we were experts on getting anywhere on The Tube. Yeah. It's all so easy to get anywhere once you're in London if you know how to maneuver The Tube and you don't have a heavy suitcase that you have to lug around.

Highlights of our London Trip: Watching "Wicked" and having dinner at Chez Gerard. Watching "The Complete Works of Shakespeare: Unabridged" which was a funny improv on the great bard's works by three clever Yanks of all people. But it was hilarious and enjoyable. Going on the all-day tour of Windsor Castle, Bath and Stonehenge was fabulous and a good decision on my part to purchase the tickets ahead of time. And of course, seeing the unbelievable paintings in the National Art Museum and the antiquities exhibits at the British Museum.

Our flight to Berlin was fun but I got so sick the day before whilst at Bath. As I went further and further down into the tunnels of the ancient Roman geothermal pools, my eyes began to water and swell and my sneezing became annoying. Then, my head began to swell, my nose got runny and plugged up and for the rest of the day, I was basically miserable. When we arrived in Berlin, Kurt took us to dinner and I had some sausage. That basically made me even worse and my stomach did not forgive me for the next couple of days. So I missed one concert and a tour of Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp, riding the U-bahn and S-bahn, and Checkpoint Charlie. Yeah, I was in the hotel close to the bathroom. But I did get to watch a wonderful Harpsichord Concert at the famed Concert Hall at Gendarmenmarkt next to the German catherdral which was a beautiful structure. Our hotel balcony opened up to this cathedral and our views were always spectacular. I did get to see most of the sights via the double-decker tourist bus but one thing I really, really REGRET is not being able to see any of the museums especially the Pergamon Museum which I SO wanted to see.

Shopping is crazy in London because of the power of the British quid or rather, the woeful buying power of the US dollar which was worth only half the British pound. And the cost of things really, really is doubled. For example, fish and chips cost £12 which would be $24!! Quite a huge amount to pay for fish and chips. It's definitely NOT a good time for Americans to visit England...unless you study out where you can get cheaper meals or bring your own food. Everytime, we had dinner, it was at least $200. Marks and Spencer, my favorite British retail store, now has little markets around where they sell only food. It is a good place to start. But while in Berlin, we did get Hannah a cute dress and shirt. I wish I had more time to shop but oh well.

Our flight home was another story. Woeful. the flight was a straight 10.5 hours from London to Vegas via Virgin Atlantic. Never again. There were 450 passengers on both levels and I swear we were the only Yanks. There was some kind of Celtic athletes' reunion in Vegas. (6,000 of them will meet here in Vegas this week...egads!) Hence, about 80% of the passengers were smelly MEN and Brits. Some were huge and some were tiny. But the common thing they all had was....ALCOHOL. Crap. SEVEN hours of imbibing. The cabins started to reek of alcohol, bad breath and pee pee mixed with whatever horrible air freshener the flight attendants sprayed occasionally. We had the exit row seats so there was some space in front of us. Unfortunately, it was also across the galley where about eight men would gather to line up for more beer and gin and tonic. Sometimes there would be about six large men in front of me wearing athletic shorts, their butts staring at me straight in the face and their beer-bellies were double the size of a basketball. One guy had poop stains on his pants. Kill me! Here's the kicker: we asked for any class upgrade because we weren't going 10 hours cramped and curling like pretzels but unfortunately, the flight was full and the only upgrade available were the exit row seats. We paid an extra $600 for them! I've never heard of paying for bulkhead seats before.

Anyway, so sorry but the Brits I'd seen so far didn't particularly dress well. They woefully lacked the panache of Barcelona-ites or perhaps, Italians, so aesthetically, not that that is important---but under the circumstances, they LOOKED bad AND smelled bad! London isn't exactly your mecca for fashion either. Neither was Berlin.

Seven hours into the flight, the pilot finally announced that no more alcohol will be served. The flight attendant told us that was a first in her books. I was ready to swear at Richard Branson.

The last thirty minutes of the flight was sheer hell. It was like being on a roller-coaster but in painfully SLLLOOOOOOW motion. Hence....like being in a....BOAT on a rough sea. By the time we were SLOWLY taxi-ing on the tarmac, I was fit to be tied and hanging by a thin thread. I mean, I started having irrational thoughts like....can I open the exit door before the flight attendant can stop me...or I want to scream now "GET ME THE HELL OUTTA HERE!"....or, what if I fall apart, as in, go bonkers and ask the stewardess to pullleeeze let me out FIRST...or, should I throw up on the floor to show Virgin A how I feel or should I snatch the airsick bags? That sort of thoughts. I was fighting those thoughts with counting, concentrating on a spot in the galley, thinking of songs in my head, or imagining how it would feel to be home in my own bed or getting in the car to get home. But then I started thinking about driving home and I thought...I should sit in the front seat with the aircon blowing in my face. (One of our attorneys was picking us up....) Then I couldn't remember WHICH SIDE OF THE CAR I WAS SUPPOSED TO GET IN coz for a while, I got confused with the Brit cars and then that made me even more sick coz I got disoriented. I swear, if the pilot decided to circle one more time, I was simply going to completely, utterly LOSE IT. By the time I got to the baggage carousel, I was just holding on to the airplane food I had consumed and looking for the nearest trash can since there were NO toilets in the controlled baggage and immigration area. So by the time I got home, I was just SICK SICK SICK. After a full night's sleep, I am feeling so much better and already consumed the huge Cadbury block of fruit and nut in milk chocolate.

Next summer, we'll tackle China. And you can pretty much bet that this poor woman is definitely flying FIRST CLASS for any flight that will take longer than six hours.

Can't hardly wait.

Me and Hannah at Seminary Graduation

It was a pleasure watching the Seminary Graduation last Sunday. Hannah looked radiant and beautiful. All in all, it was a gorgeous Sunday.

I've been planning our London-Berlin trip for a while now and there's so much to do with so very little time. I am anxiously anticipating a great adventure. I can't wait to meet up with Jordan. I've missed hearing from him. I will sorely miss him when he goes to Washington DC to attend law school at George Washington University.

Leland started taking the Kaplan Law School Admission Test Review courses to get ready to take the test in the fall. I just have a feeling that he will do very well. Lee, Catherine and Lucy, and Tascha are arriving home on Saturday and I am beside myself with excitement. I just love my kids so much it hurts!

There's quite a few things happening around that I can't really write about. Needless to say, it's been very, VERY emotional around here with Hannah running the gamut of emotions about the end of her high school experience.

It's late again so I better run.

HUH?

I learned English as a young child but my first language is Tagalog. I went to a private Christian grade school were we were supposed to speak English at all times. There were monitors around the playground who listed the names of rule breakers. I remember rebelling against that rule because I was not comfortable speaking English all the time. So I did not talk very much at all to avoid being cited.

However, I did write in English very well. And spelling was a big deal. I was always good at spelling until my sixth grade teacher decided to teach the "arrogant" students a lesson and had us spell biological jargon like pteridophytes and phyllum---words that we were yet to learn. But once the test was over and we all bombed, I never misspelled those words again and I immediately went to the dictionary to find out the meanings of each strange word.

As a young child, my favorite book came in three volumes: the very red, hard bound copy of The Reader's Digest Encyclopaedic Dictionary. One volume had words, phrases and foreign phrases classified into various categories, like medical terms and latin phrases. Another had well-known quotes. I perused through every volume, eager to memorize and learn every word on every page. Everyday, I'd learn a new word and then tried to use it when I wrote my daily essays. I loved words and a well constructed sentence. I began to memorize favorite lines from stories and plays...even movies.

When I arrived in the US for the first time in 1975, barely 19 years old, I thought I could finally use my "dictionary" English. What a crock. Even some of my teachers couldn't spell to save their lives.

I don't profess to be a grammarian, but obvious grammatical and spelling errors bug the heck out of me. And though I know that they don't necessarily mean that the offender is lacking in intelligence, it does show some carelessness. There is a saying in Tagalog that states: Ang hindi marunong magmahal ng sarili wika, ay masahol pa sa malansang isda---roughly translates, he who does not love his own language is worse than a rancid fish. Communicating complex concepts require some measure of eloquence and the more adept we are at presenting concepts effectively using words, the better it will be for all of us.

Here's a short of list of what peeves me the most:

1. Your vs You're: I mean, come on! You're is a contraction of "you are" so if you are saying, You are breaking my heart, please don't write: your breaking my heart, because that is so, so wrong! It's just as annoying as writing, you're car awaits, sir. This is just sheer pedestrian writing. Ugh!

2. Lay vs Lie: Eee-eeuuuw. I hear this all the time. And although one can argue that it's simply local color which is true, it does grate on me like nails on a chalkboard when I hear, I'm going to lay down here on the couch. Yuck. I always tell my kids that you lay something down but you are supposed to lie down on something. Thus, the correct way is: I am going to lie down on this couch. Now hold on---remember the phrase: now I lay me down to sleep? Well, here we are laying something down which would be "me". Here's some good examples of "lay" usage: Lay down your burdens. Lay your head on my pillow. Lay that purse on this table. Get it? Here's some examples of correct usage of "lie": Lie down beside me. Lie down on this gurney. Here lies Winthrop Kaka. Get it? That's more like it.

3. Should have vs should of: Yikes. I see this all the time. It is NEVER should of and it is always should have. That should be easy. I mean, I should of done it? What the heck kind of sense does that sentence make? It's SHOULD HAVE. I should have done it. I should have spelled it right.

4. In lieu of of: EEEEK. Some people want to sound more hip and use this phrase but so wrong! This phrase literally means, in the PLACE of...from the French word, lieu which means...place! Bad usage: In lieu of the fact that it rained today, we will all wear raincoats. That's savage. Good usage: In lieu of flowers, please donate a million dollars to Mitt Romney's campaign. Yeah. Easy enough.

5. Wrong use of homonyms or words that sound almost the same: This is carelessness at its worse! Hear vs here. Except vs accept. Principal vs principle. (Gosh this just reeks!) Assure, ensure and insure. Compliment (which means..."to flatter or praise" if used as a verb and if used as a noun, it means a commendation or a felicitation.) vs complement...(which means "to complete, to round off, to harmonize, to match well".) Here's a good sentence example: When you compliment your wife, you might want to tell her that the color of her eyes complement her yellow jacket. Yeah. 'Nuff said.

6. It's vs its: People come on: it's is merely a contraction of "it is".

There's more on my list but for now, I'm going to stop lest I rile myself up and it's so early in the morning. Yeah, now I must quit while I'm ahead because then I might start writing about how texting has changed how we value good grammar and good writing skills. Bah humbug!

THE END OF THE DAY

A close high school friend is on her way back to Manila as I write. She is about to complete a very long trip to be with her father who is ailing and who has asked to pass on naturally without wires, tubes or further treatment to artificially prolong the inevitable. She is journeying to say her good-bye to her once vital and vibrant father. It is a somber journey.

Not long after she shared this with us, another chum informed us that his father is also awaiting the inevitable and has called all his children to a final roll call at his bedside. He is about to embark on the same journey and this time, north to Toronto. Not so long ago, he had been the lone dissenter among this siblings when they all voted to remove the tubes that kept their father alive. Minutes after his dissent, his father awakened to inform the doctors that he wasn't ready to go yet and so, there would be no voting that day. This time, weeks later, his father is ready and about to pass on on his own terms with all his children by his side.

The next day, another chum informed us that her beloved father just passed on and they are now on the long road to mend their broken hearts over this tremendous loss. The only fact that gives them comfort is that their father lived a vital life until his passing at 93 years of age. What a privilege!

They say "bad" things come in threes. This surely seems true right now. And it is jarring. All three chums are high school friends. There are about a hundred of us graduates of Philippine Science High School---all national science scholars who, in 1969, were hand picked to attend this great institution together. For four years, each of us waded through advanced math and science classes, each one endowed with the same directive: to keep their scholarship...and their government stipends coming. Three decades later, we hang on to each other, sharing each other's successes...and burdens. We are so privileged.

Hours after I learned about these incidents, our bishop tells us that one morning, just last week, he was checking his client appointment list and saw that he was scheduled to meet with a friend whom he hadn't seen in a while. He was of course, delighted that he would get to see him even if just to get some legal advise. When the time came, they shook hands and had a brief visit to catch up on things. And then he asked: how can I help you today? That's when the roof caved in---he informed him that he had been diagnosed with inoperatable brain tumor and wanted him to take care of his estate affairs. He only had a maximum of 12 months to live. He is only 48 years old and has a wife and three children. He was devastated over the prospect that he will have to leave them on their own.

In the same meeting, another faithful member who does not usually share his emotions, told us about a meeting with a 12 year old student. He described her as a "wonderful" student who was a joy to teach". He was also her track coach and had seen her grow and develop to be a capable athlete. She wanted to talk to him about a "problem". He was of course, happy to be of service. That's when he finds out that she has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and will not run again. She was given 6 months to live. It was a devastating afternoon for him.

The next day, I took another friend to lunch. Among other things, I asked him why her husband was absent from church. He happens to be the 2nd counselor to the bishop and serves with my husband who is the 1st counselor. She informs me that one of the doctors he works with had just been diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer and was unable to work so her husband volunteered to fill in the slack. The sad thing is that he had just adopted two children and is devastated that he will have to leave them.

Though her diagnosis has not been declared grim, my step-sister just found out that she has malignant tumors in her liver. She is down to about 90 pounds and they are still trying to find a course of treatment. I am not feeling optimistic because my father had the same problem. He passed on three months after diagnosis.

Three weeks ago, my husband got a phone call from a client. She did not want legal help. She wanted him to come to the hospital where her brother-in-law lay dying and asked if he could give him a final blessing of release. My husband, of course, raced to the hospital to perform this act of service. He later passed on peacefully.

Death seems to be around us lately and I am suddenly feeling somber. Nothing seems to be as important now as just having another day to embrace life and all its gifts. I hope that I do not squander my time focusing on stupid things. I hope that I will hold on to what's true, that I will love better and that I will continue to learn, grow and have many opportunities to express myself.

It's now 4:00 in the morning and I better get to bed.

Awards Night at Green Valley High School

ANOTHER LOST TREASURE

It was a balmy Saturday afternoon when the postman delivered the mail. He had been knocking on the gate patiently until the maid walked over to pick up a wad of envelopes from his pack. After sorting through bills and unwanted mail, the maid pulled out an envelope made of fine, almost translucent linen paper. My name was written in dark blue India ink in beautiful cursive. It was from a boy I knew. I was 15 years old.

Nearly every afternoon, at least three boys would come to our house to spend a couple of hours with me. They were not from my school or neighborhood. They had to take public transportation to get to my house which, in some cases, was not a pleasant endeavor considering the sultry heat of Manila, the dust and the crazy traffic on narrow roads. Sometimes, they came with little gifts or trinkets. Most of the time, they came unannounced just for a chance to be with me. Back then, in the mid-seventies, this was how boys went "courting".

Courting. That word is so seldom used in this day and age. It almost seems archaic. But I always had a gaggle of boys trying to win my favor. It was a delightful time.

Cellphones and email are now the de riguer ways to communicate and texting has replaced the fine art of letter-writing. It's a cold and metallic way to curry favor. No one really knows the context of the texts. They're always short and abrupt. Most of all, emotionless. In order to soften the harshness, people can add emoticons---icons that express emotions. It's all so...contrived. I am not sure that my children---especially my daughters---will experience the joy and exhilaration of receiving love letters. It would be such a shame if this were indeed, true.

As soon as I saw the name of the boy on the return address, I was taken aback. Why would he write to me? I never thought he was interested in me. So I took my best letter opener and carefully pried the envelope flap open. I pulled out four pages of crisp vellum paper with hand-written cursive beautifully done with an old fashioned fountain pen.

My dearest one.

His first three wonderful words and my heart already melted. He spoke of wonderful things-- how he yearns for me and how he longs to hear my voice everyday. He described how he feels everytime he sees me and talks to me. He tells me how he treasures every moment with me. He confesses that he took my handkerchief and how it smells of my perfume. He keeps it in his pocket wherever he goes. He tells me I'm the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and that when I sing and play my guitar, he feels as though he were in a trance. He writes about his jealous moments when he sees me talking to another boy or when I pay too much attention to this boy and the other. He reveals his dreams, his fears and his hopes. He tells me that he adores me. And finally, he professes that he is inlove with me.

I remember the beating of my heart as I read his sentences over and over. I purposely read each word slowly, digesting every meaning, every essence, every substance. My knees begin to weaken and I feel my lips begin to tingle. I get dizzy. I mistake my hyperventilating for swooning because I really do feel like fainting. My emotions run high. And then he quotes Jose Garcia Villa:

How could I essay the intensity of my love when silence speaks a more eloquent tone. But perhaps you didn't understand. Remember I came because the gnawing loneliness is there and will be lost until the music is sung...until the poem is heard...until you come to me again. For you alone can blend music and memory into one consuming ecstasy. You alone.

He then ends the letter with an affirmation of his love and longing. I remember how my hands were shaking and tears began to run down my cheeks...not because I felt the same way but because the words he wrote were powerful and earnest. Well, and also I felt a sense of loneliness for him because beautiful as his words may have been, I could not reciprocate his feelings at that time. But he impressed me and I never forgot that moment. Obviously.

These are words that cannot be texted on a cellphone. And these are words that carry only emptiness on email. There is something to be said about a handwritten letter--there is power in every curve, every mistake, every squiggle. At times the pen seems literally heavy. At times, the handwriting is dainty. At times it can be deliberate and at times, wanton. Then there is the choice of paper or stationery. Or ink. Sometimes a scent. There was even a time when placing the stamp upside down meant something.

The wonder of the handwritten note is a treasure of communication and human interaction that is valuable...even priceless during these days of electronic messaging. It is a lost art that I wish would have a revival. But a serious revival. For the sake of the future, I sure hope so.

That Unexpected Wave

THAT UNEXPECTED WAVE

My father died nearly 18 years ago. He was only 59 years old and until he found out he had late stage liver cancer, felt indestructible. Hannah was barely a year old. She does not remember him at all. And she will graduate from high school in about 10 days. She will deliver the valedictory address. My father would have loved to have been there. I believe he would have moved heaven and hell to be there. Can he do it from where he's at? Can I hold him to that now that he's passed on? For a moment there, I felt out of control. Of course, not.

I find myself weeping again this morning. I feel a lot of emotions. I thought I was past all these. I thought I had moved on. I thought I mostly felt peace about his death, his life, his person. And then an unexpected wave hits me and I feel like drowning again. The wounds open and the salt water stings...again. Old feelings resurface. I am angry that he did not live his life in such a way that he can gifted with time...to spend with his only grandchildren. I feel great sorrow that my children cannot experience his joie de vivre...his talents, his affections, his generosity. I feel cheated that I can't hear him play the piano. I see scenarios in my head--events that he would have loved: playing the piano with my children, having a family jazz band, hearing their music, their creations, their accomplishments. Yes, I am weeping again. For him. For all of us. I find myself crying because I feel frustration and a gnawing sense of helplessness. And then again, anger that I had to be put in this 'place'. And then I wonder if I will ever just forget and move on.

Hannah broke up with Nate two weeks ago and has decided to move on. We thought it was going well... until she found out Nate was going on a date this weekend. She thought she was at peace with her decision and excited about the many adventures that lay before her. She was surprised that this seeming insignificant event would stop her on her tracks and reopen her hurt and pain...and even make her second guess her decision or worse, her own worth. Intellectually, she knows she's past all these and has forgiven Nate for the hurt and pain he caused her. But now she's hurting...again. She wonders if she can just really move on and forget about him...really, really just not even care.

My best friend just found out that her ex-husband and his new wife are having a baby. Their third child together is now 18 years old! Their son's son will be older than his baby. Everybody is hurt. No one can be happy for them even if they should. She thought she had moved on. It's been over eight years since their divorce and she's happily married to the man of her dreams. But this latest event opened up the old wounds. She discovered that there is another nail that she needed to hammer on the coffin of her dissolved marriage. And she thought she had nailed the last one. Now she has to go through everything all over again. She wonders why she feels this way when she's already moved on. She's happy. She's content. But she feels hurt. Can she just get past this now?

After two decades of criticism and judgment from my husband's family, I slowly begin to realize that I can count on this behavior just as surely as I can count on the sun rising in the east. My indignation and hurt slowly and surely through the years begin to evolve as I painfully adjust to the ever consistent harshness and judgment. At first, my indignation and hurt and even anger, festered to the point where physical pain began to manifest in so many different ways. But through time, prayer, counseling and hopefully, constant evaluation of my merits, I realize that I have no control over what others think of me and I decide to let the hurt, pain and anger dissipate into a manageable indifference. I focus on my own nuclear family and concentrate on serving them, caring for them and most of all, loving them with all my heart, might and mind. Slowly, peace takes the place of strife. I realize that forgiving the people who continue to judge me through the years does not necessarily mean that I must condone their actions. And that I don't have to participate and allow myself to be skewered...that it is allowable to withdraw if the behavior damages me without feeling rancor or anger towards the perpetrator. Letting the natural consequences of their actions happen can free us all. And then, just when I think I am finally at peace and impervious to their actions, it happens all over again even when I have retreated and isolated myself. Again, I wonder if this will ever change. This time, I no longer feel offended. Acceptance has finally taken the place of offense. I put everything in a safe place and trust that God will take care of everything. Peace and reassurance is restored in my heart because I know that I am the only one who is responsible for my pain---that I can choose to take offense or simply let it slide another time.

Forgiveness is a principle that we all too often take for granted. We always think that we can forgive and forget. But "forgetting" is not really feasible unless we can induce selective amnesia which is so stupid because that doesn't really happen. Remembering can be a blessing. It allows us to learn. It gives us perspective. And it allows us the opportunity to heal...and forgive again and again. Knowing it is the person we forgive and not the deed gives me a clear perspective of how life can be lived. God does not look at sin with any degree of tolerance but he continues to love us despite our imperfections. Forgiveness does not mean condoning sin but rather, letting go of rancor, anger, judgment and harshness towards the person who offends you. It is not an easy task but it is required of us to forgive. We cannot concentrate on the losses but we can look forward to healing...and hopefully, wisdom and clarity.

There will always be milestones in our lives when the realization or the remembrance of what was lost becomes acute again. Our lives invariably interconnect with the souls of those who touch ours in more ways than we can imagine. At times we sit in our reverie and smile at the bounty of the joys of our shared experiences and at times, without warning or provocation, past yearnings sweep into our hearts like a sudden wave. At times it's just another nail to the coffin of a haplessly exhumed relationship long since buried. At times it's a prick from a bitter past already archived in the far recesses of our remembrance files. And seventy times seven, we take the privilege to forgive again and let bitter feelings that have resurfaced ebb and abate. It is a divine cycle gifted to us...a subtle reminder that choosing forgiveness and letting go of the humanness that enslaves us can render us divine.

Update: After, three crazy "break-ups", Nate and Hannah still have a special 'friendship' going on. And the 'break-ups", as both refer to them, have now been described as 'idiotic'. Crazy. It's been over a year and a half now and they still feel deeply for each other. But she's doing very well in BYU and Nate is doing well finishing up his senior year. Though no one has any idea that there's something special going on-- I mean, NO ONE-- they've just picked up where they left, are still inlove with each other and still communicate regularly. It's like...a secret romance going on and nobody knows about it though they're not keeping it a secret. It'll be interesting to see how long they can keep this up.

 

Dis and Dat

DIS AND DAT

Having a child graduate valedictorian from a very demanding school is every Filipino mother's dream. But I didn't really give this much gravitas because of the fact that being valedictorian doesn't necessarily mean that you are the smartest of the smarts. It just means that you worked hard to fulfill the requirements necessary to be valedictorian which is no small feat either. But for Hannah, it was something that she decided she would accomplish from the time she was in junior high...and she did. That is commendable because when Hannah decides to do something, she does really does. That's just the way she is. And I am in awe of her.

Tonight is honors night at the high school and she and a few others will be feted. (She will receive a full tuition plus books scholarship at BYU.) Before the ceremony, she gets to play piano for the last time with the jazz band. Frankly, I am looking forward to that more than the ceremony itself. Her piano playing has progressed exponentially and it's such a pleasure to listen to her improv.

I am looking forward to next weekend when the rest of the kids plus Lucy finally come home. Jordan will still be in London but we get to see him in only three weeks! I'm so excited to make the trip. I really need to plan and map out each day that we will be in London and Berlin. I have yet to do that.

My Mac powerbook arrived today...so did Hannah's. I just barely opened the box and I'm so excited to finally have something to work with when I go to the office.

Saw The Painted Veil for the first time last night. I SO enjoyed the movie. It was based on a novel with the same title written by Somerset Maugham. The performances were stellar and wow....Edward Norton is fabulous. There are several scenes that were just genius and the music was superb. I downloaded the French lullaby that plays at the end of the movie called A La Claire Fountain and began learning the lyrics. This will greatly enhance my study of French. I think learning some simple songs will help tremendously.

NEW ALBUM PICKS

Aha. I have some cool album picks that I'd like to recommend.

1. Maroon 5: It Won't Be Soon Before Long.

Of course, it would be nuts if you don't own their other album called Songs About Jane with the classic "She Will Be Loved" and "This Love". This album is a must-have. Their second try also does NOT disappoint. Stellar songs include "Won't Go Home Without You" and "Goodnight Goodnight and the sad, "Better That We Break". I like the rest of the songs---so well produced and fun to listen to.

2. Emilie-Claire Barlow: Tribute

I have to also interject that Barlow's other CD entitled Like A Lover is equally satisfying. It seems an anchrony that Barlow's girlish voice is actually a jazz instrument so finely tuned it simply demands attention. Que barbaridad! Listen closely to her cover of Sting's "La Belle Dame Sans Regret" when she breaks into a duet with the piano. Every note is dead, spot-on technically and aesthetically perfect it's insane--nevermind that the demanding and technically difficult improv is filled with impossible grace notes and runs that she perfectly mimics vocally. Casi na! She is my new favorite jazz singer. The only other female jazz singer who is her contemporary that I would recommend is my #3 pick.

3. Jane Monheit: Surrender

She rocks! I believe that outside of Brazil, Monheit has to be the true ambassador of the Samba. Listen to her duet with Ivan Lins singing in beautiful Portuguese, Rio de Maio. Oooh la la! Beautiful. Her cover of Stevie Wonder's "Overjoyed" is a wonder to behold, if you can pardon my dumb pun. Her slower, more emotional cover of the classic Brazil 66 song, "Like A Lover" is heart-wrenchingly haunting. Okay, I just love every song on this album.

4. Florante Aguilar: Tipanan: A Celebration of Filipino Guitar

Yes, he is Filipino...and how! This album, a collection of Filipino love songs known as "kundiman" is so romantic that after listening to his guitar interpretations, I am taken back to the days of yore when pretty Filipina maidens used to be serenaded outside their window by a heartsick suitor carrying a guitar and a hope that she will open her window, light a candle and gift him a smile. Those scenes definitely and definitively trump John Cuzack holding up his boombox outside Ione Skye's window in the movie "Say Anything". This is definitely worth the investment.

5. Kenny Barron and Stan Getz: People Time (Live from Copenhagen, 1991)

Nothing, absolutely nothing, can trump Barron's piano and Getz's saxophone duet in "Night and Day". It was as if the jazz gods generously sprinkled fairy dust on this moment and created this perfect melding of piano and sax embodied in a familiar melody. Wow. Wow. Wow. Now, turn off the lights, pump the volume, close your eyes and listen to "First Song". I thought I was going to swoon. This collection, recorded live, memorializes an enchanted night of pure, heavenly jazz. It's as close to Copenhagen, 1991, I can get. And I'm not complaining.

TO DO LIST

One may think that the top item on my list would be to lose weight. Oh yeah. I've given up on that farce. With an empty nest looming in the very, all too near future, I've begun to evaluate my goals. In fact, my goal-less life is now full of new ones that I am excited to accomplish. I don't have any grandiose items on my list---just small doable items.

1. Learn three good pieces on the harp that I can use in church. I purchased my lever harp yesterday and at $5,000 clams, I thought it was a good deal considering how pretty it is on top of sounding great. Plus it's a Lyon and Healy harp. I would have preferred to purchase a pedal harp ($15,000 more...yikes!) but for now, while I am yet a beginner, this lever harp will do the job. I've already mastered two easy pieces and am working on a hymn that I can play at church---if I can have the confidence to do it without making a fool of myself. But those two pieces don't count so I have a long ways to go.

2. Keep a scripture journal. I've already started doing this but my notebook is so random and disorganized. My goal is to keep a GOOD journal that's not all scribbles and random thoughts all over the place. This helps make my scripture studies more meaningful and hopefully, powerful.

3. Take jazz piano lessons and learn ALL the jazz and blues scales in all keys. I start piano lessons again in September taking Hannah's spot who will be leaving late August for BYU. I am so excited.

4. Learn French (and maybe German). I already have the Rosetta Stone version of German. But I am more gungho about learning French. I can already sing a couple of songs in French so I am happy about that but I really need to become conversational in French. There's French bistro that I frequent and Bernard, the owner, likes to talk to me in French while I look stupid. But I will get better.

5. Learn to draw. Yep. I want to take drawing classes at the art studio nearby. All I really want to learn is to draw faces. I think this should be doable.

Yeah. Age creeps up on yah only if you don't keep on learning.These are my top 5 goals for the year. I am stoked about each one and looking forward. I think that's the secret to looking young. Also, I may be teaching seminary next year---not quite sure---but it's a possibility.

MY PAST WEEKEND

I had a fabulous time visiting with the bride's family! I really admire how they are so close to each other. When they were taking pictures, I felt very tender towards them and how they comport themselves with each other. The bride's two siblings and their spouses each have very sweet countenances and clearly love each other. Her maternal aunts, uncles and cousins were all there and clearly, their unconditional love and support were all but palpable. It was a magnificent sight. The bride and groom were just so happy together. I feel very good about this marriage. In fact, I feel very good about her siblings' marriages too. They all married well and I tried very hard not to get all emotional seeing the bride's parents and how proud and joyous they were.

The wedding breakfast was so much fun. I was seated next to the groom's paternal grandparents...well, his grandfather had just recently married and I sat next to her. What a magnificent woman! She claims she is 73 years old but clearly, she looks decades younger. And I'm not exaggerating. I asked for her secret and she said she went back to school in her 40s and then obtained her PhD in literacy studies. We talked in great detail about her work and she was fascinated by my ability to read in three languages. She said that was awesome. (But so many Filipinos can read at least in two languages so I'm not unique...) Anyway, she inspired me.

I also met the groom's maternal aunt. She is an accomplished Juilliard-trained concert pianist. We also had a very stimulating conversation. I was just happy and privileged that I got to sit with amazing and inspiring people! It was like an answer to a prayer.

The best part of the day was spending time with my beautiful Lucy. We checked into the Little America hotel as soon as we arrived and met up there. Catherine is just beautiful too! I just love her so much. Everytime I see her with Lucy, my heart just pumps with pride and gratitude that she is my daughter-in-law. Forget the "in-law". I love her as if she were my own already. It was also so heart-warming to see my daughters together. They just love each other so much. They got to catch up with each others' lives for most of the day. They did not attend the wedding brunch so Leland, Catherine, Kurt and I went together. Lucy feel asleep and did not wake up until shortly before we got back. Natascha and Hannah ordered room service and had lunch together while tending Lucy. It was just a fabulous morning for our little family.

I feel so blessed to have the family that I have. They are so amazing. I wish that Jordan were with us but he is having a wonderful time in London and we will get to spend time with him when we fly up to London in a mere THREE weeks! Whoa. I better get our days planned. We get to fly to Berlin for 4 days as well so I'm excited to take Jordan and Hannah there and experience new things together.

We left Utah early the next day and got back in time to prepare for church...which turned out to be a good meeting. It was just a perfect weekend.

As far as the other elements that could have put a damper on the beautiful parts of the day, I simply decided to focus on the bright and happy parts. I find it incredulous that despite years of being completely absent and uninvolved that there would still be enough fodder for stewing, gossip and murmuring about me and all my faults complete with assumptions unverified...which could be easily resolved by a mere phone call. What a waste of valuable time! I simply decided that that ship has sailed a long time ago already...without me. And I'm completely okay with that. That's all I have to say about that. All in all, it was a wonderful time with plenty of happy, bright and grateful people around me.

FEELING NOSTALGIC

I was looking for a song or poem written in Tagalog that expresses what a mother feels for her children and I couldn't find one. I thought perhaps that I would find success in the form of a lullaby but then, there was none that I could unearth anywhere that sufficiently expressed what I was feeling. So, arrogantly, I decided to write one myself. I hadn't written or spoken elegant Tagalog in years so I thought I would be daunted. But I discovered that the words flowed so naturally when I began to think about how I felt about my children. I don't think I can duplicate that moment anytime soon so this may be my only attempt at Tagalog formal prose...but hopefully, not.

Meme na anak, bunso kong mahal

Sa duyan ng puso ko, larawan mo'y nakadungaw

Tulog na, anak, langkit ko at araw

Bituin ng buhay ko sa aking kandungan

Di mo ba alam ang lawak ng kaligayahan

Na inihandog ng Bahala pagka't ikaw ay akin?

Kaunting ngiti lamang o yapos na mahigpit

Likas na kayamanan ng aking pinaginip.

Meme na anak, pikit na at matulog

Habang mahinahon ang mundong gumugulong

Tulog na anak, sandaling malambing

Kasama mo si nanay sa bawa't himbing

Meme na anak, matamis kong himala

Tulog na bunso ko, mahal kong alaga.

Copyrighted. All rights reserved. FauxPerspective,Inc., May 21, 2007

HATE MAIL

I received a truly disturbing email response/comment today from someone from Rupert or Burley, Idaho who among other judgments and accusations, started out his histrionics with: I am fairly certain your pride will not allow you to make this reply visible to those for whom you put on a face of wealth, erudition, and self righteousness, but perhaps you can be edified by reading it nonetheless. Is that the height of sainthood or what?

He then proceeded to preach to me about pride, conceit, self-centeredness...etc etc etc and quoted many, many scriptures and words from prophets and general authorities. It was hell, fire and damnation at its solid best. Should I have posted his comments? Am I nuts? What scared me to death is that he mentioned my first name (spelled wrong of course...) which brings me to careful conclusion that this fanatic knows me or knows someone who knows me. I mean, if I had somehow written my name somewhere, I know I'd have spelled it right. There are other clues that point to this most probable conclusion. It was very obvious that he was not responding to any of my blogs and instead was responding to something else outside my blog. Perhaps his own heavy baggage. No, make that VERY heavy baggage. Curious.

The thing is, the tone of the email had so much disdain and strong emotion against me that I don't know if I am dealing with a nut who might have a gun. (I mean, Idaho....) And the fanatic undertones are quite disturbing. It was obvious that it was personal. And I have no idea why. He was so affected by whatever it is that he thinks he read or perhaps by some outside influence that he even started his own blog shortly after reading my site. He spent time on my site on two occasions at least, spending at least an hour everytime. His blog contained pretty much the same vitriol as his email. That's a whole lot of time to spend on just me. I should be flattered but I feel like I need to freak out now. Or hurl. I know there's a chance that he may be reading this and if you are, please do not contact me again because none of your words were "edifying" and I do not respond well to sanctimonious insults and self-righteous preachings. Who does? He also claims to be Mormon...yikes! I hope that's not so! This type of heavy handed pontification is what gives Mormonism a bad reputation.

I do "see" him on my tracker and I can "see" what pages he clicks in and out of. (Wooops...a dangling participle!) And for sure, he is spending time reading and wandering around my blogsite... at one instance my tracker showed him spending some time in my site at around 4:00 in the morning. Obsessed? I smell an agenda. And it is rank with venom. Pity.

In any case, this 'troubled soul' needs to lighten up and mind his own business. Whatever agenda you may have, your efforts and time will be better served concentrating on your own affairs and delving into someone's life especially when you know nothing about it is utterly judgmental, one-sided and unfair. If you are doing this in behalf of someone who may know me, be smart enough to realize that you know nothing about me . . . other than the one side you hear with all its colors, prejudices and obviously, rancor. And if you have a shred of decency, you should feel some measure of remorse for being so quick to judge...and preach.

In any case, go ahead and read my blogs. You may learn that you have sorely misjudged me. Shame on you. But then again, your choice of a handle (Baal) is so apropo. Baal: the name of a Judeo-Christian demon. 'Nuff said.

-------

Latest note:

Found out that the hater's email extension is the same as the relatives in Idaho and from the information from my tracker, I was able to infer many more interesting details regarding this persons's identity. Knowing this, I no longer have any curiosity to find out who exactly this person is because....well, it's obvious.

STRESS & CONFUSION

We will be going to Utah on Saturday to attend a wedding. I am already stressing about it because we will not be able to attend the ceremony. Hannah's last Jazz Concert is the night before and there is no flight to SLC late enough that we can catch. We will have to catch the earliest flight out the morning of the wedding in time to make it to the wedding brunch. Cost of airline tickets for three: $850 and change. We will have to spend the night to make it to the reception. That means we will have to pay for a hotel room and a car rental too. We will leave on the early flight back to LAS on Sunday morning to make it to church where Kurt will be conducting the meetings and I am scheduled to teach Relief Society. I haven't even read the lesson. Yikes.

Here's what I'm hoping: I am hoping that family members will appreciate our efforts of being there even if we miss the ceremony. I am hoping that there will be no fault-finding. I am hoping that there will be no criticisms and gossip and especially any kinds of assumptions, presumptions and/or judgments regarding our decisions and preferences. I am hoping that there will be no backtalk or complaining to each other about our motivations. I am hoping that there will be no veiled comments, insults that masquerade as jokes or attempts to "put one over me" or any member of my immediate family. I am hoping that everyone will just be happy to be together and forget about competing or other garbage.

Today, I found out that my step-sister who is only 42 years old has liver cancer. She has baseball-sized tumors in her liver that they have identified as malignant. There are still gargantuan tumors left in her liver and the doctors simply closed her up and sent her home. The doctors still have to figure out what kind of cancer they are up against. It feels so grim right now and I feel dark all over.

Also this morning, a close family friend took her father to undergo routine colonoscopy. They found colon cancer and they asked him to surrender to surgery ASAP---possibly today. It also sounds grim.

Family is so important. Life is so unpredictable. And we are at the age where things happen. There are three children who may lose their mother. My step-sister may not live to see her grandchildren love her, touch her, hug her, give her kisses. She is so young and had so many aspirations. She was on the track of improving her life. Now she is stopped right on her tracks. I am devastated.

There is a daughter who may lose her father at a time when she is just getting to know him better and enjoying his company not just as her father but as another human being. He may not see his grandchildren become teenagers. They will not enjoy his company and his affections....his quiet acts of service and sharing. He merely came to town for a short visit from a far away country oceans and times away and now he sits stunned that somewhere in his body, there are alien cells threatening to end his life.

For years and years, I watched as families pass on the many opportunities to communicate love and affection---dangerously failing to foster understanding, harmony and joy that they are in fact, a family. I watch as they deliberately and without thought, pass on the many opportunities to bond, grow and understand each other and instead, demur and choose to be distant, silent or disconnected. I hope that they do not get to the inevitable points in life where they have to be compelled to invest, nurture and care for every relationship that they have been gifted with.

As I ponder on the seeming inequities of life, I am beset with a sudden sadness and a sense of foreboding. Suddenly, going to a wedding where I can be shredded to pieces doesn't sound too bad at all. At least for right now.

PLANT KILLER

I am staring at a potted plant in full bloom that I got for Mother's Day. There is a wastebasket below it and I am so severely tempted to place the whole thing in the basket. It is a strange feeling. It's like an obsessive, compulsive notion that keeps on nudging me to do just that. There is a nagging voice inside me that urgently tells me that it would be easier to chuck it now than later when the flowers are dried up and the leaves are so brittle that I would simply make a big mess just by moving the pot. That same voice also tells me that it is taking up room on my already cluttered desk and the sooner I trash it, the easier it would be to tidy up. I resist the strong temptation. And I have a difficult time enjoying the blossoms because I know that in due time, it will die no matter how much I care for it. I am a plant killer.

Plants and I don't get along very well. I've had grandiose dreams of blooming flowers and healthy, happy plants thriving in my care. Make that dream more like a nightmare.

One time, I bought a beautiful bamboo plant from San Diego. It was most dense and had an undeniable character. I lovingly placed the pot in a large ceramic container making sure that there was ample drainage so the roots don't bound. Every morning, I would talk to Mr. Bamboo and spray some tepid water on its leaves and stems thinking that this would refresh it and make it happy. I made sure the soil was not wet nor dry. I fed it the recommended fertilizer and placed it in a sunny, southern exposure so its leaves will enjoy the sun.

Then the leaves began to fall off. There was a white, milky substance on the leaves and I didn't think too much of it until one morning, I noticed that there were tiny, tiny white dots moving on the surface of the leaves. Aphids! By this time, most of the leaves had fallen and I had no wherewithal, whim or fancy as to how to fix the problem. Mr. Bamboo died a sad, slow death.

Then there were the various flamboyant topiaries made of delicate ivy. I purchased several of them. Some where shaped like round wreaths, some where heart-shaped, others were round balls of happy ivy and yet others were double-rings. I loved ivy topiaries! I placed them in beautiful containers and pots. Sometimes, I even tied a bow on the stem. I lovingly cared for them, talked to them, watered them. But one by one, their leaves turned an ugly brown or sickly darkest green and then die. Every single time. I think I went through over a dozen of these vain attempts to keep them alive to no avail. I would kill them all haplessly and helplessly.

In due time, I simply bought topiaries with the expectation that they would last only a few days before I threw them in the trash. Presently, I no longer purchase them and have settled instead for the gloriously fake ones. Consequently, I no longer have live plants in my house.

I think that taking care of plants is a mystic calling that unfortunately, was not bestowed upon me by the garden gods that be. I accept that. I envy the stalward devotee who can, with just the touch of his or her hand, make plants happy, bountiful and thriving.

As for me, I've moved on accepting that there are other things that demand my nurturing.

DRIVING SOLO ON I-15

I just arrived from Utah on the late flight out. I am exhausted.

The drive to Utah was fantastic although I still hate driving through the Strip even if it's on I-15. The traffic is usually just atrocious and drivers drive like they want to kill you. But this time, it felt different. It felt like all the crazy cars around me were my friends. Strange.

Tascha's little Toyota Corolla drove VERY well. I have to admit that after driving a Lexus for many years, I got very spoiled driving a precision car that has no rival when it comes to smoothness and comfort. But for a very affordable, no frills car, the Corolla and the Camry are worth more than their selling price---though still lacking the luxury and more importantly, the unbelievable smoothness and accuracy of drive. There's just no comparison even if Toyota makes Lexus. I experimented and got as fast as 95mph without the car going into convulsions. Relatively and surprisingly smooth for a low-end car. I was glad. I had plenty of time to think and evaluate how my life is going...and then make some goals.

I left the house at around 8:15am and arrived in Provo around 1:45pm or 2:45 Utah time. I made VERY good time. I stopped for gas and a bath break in Cedar City and then drove all the way. I could have gone straight through on just a full tank of gas! That was unbelievable. It's a great car for students. I did find myself getting a bit hypnotized by the road especially during loooong stretches when the road was simply straight. But I had the best music on my ipod blasting away and I sang to the music. It felt so good to be alone and immerse myself in thought and to enjoy the scenery. At times, the sights were bleak and lonesome. But at times, after engaging in a wide turn, a beautiful vista appears right before your very eyes and it's simply magnificent to soak it all in. I think a long roadtrip alone is cathartic.

When I got to Provo, I did have an ominous feeling. It felt dark and gloomy. I think it's because I really didn't have a very enriching experience while living there. It was a difficult time while raising two little sons. It was a time of adjustment even though while I was at that spot in time, I didn't think I was "adjusting". I thought I was simply trying to fit in---to become what I perceived to be what a wife and mother should be. And those perceptions were totally tainted by the culture of BYU and the stifling expectations of the LDS culture there. It truly is a vacuum like no other place because one can never really satisfy the universal imposed expectations unless you build a wall around you that hides and eventually erases your true essence. I should have known better but I was too blinded by my desire to fit in. Now, in retrospect, I can see clearly how the experience of living in Provo destroyed many parts of me that made me unique and vital. But thankfully, I've opened my eyes long ago and decided that I love myself too much to erase what makes me, me. So I was able to raise confident children who know themselves and more importantly, like themselves so that they can be enriched and contribute to the culture of BYU rather than get drowned in those parts that can eat them alive.

Tascha was only too happy to be reunited with her nice car. She had been driving the Jeep Wrangler that Jordan (who is in England right now....click here for a link to see what he is doing...) was using and Hannah wants to have it for the summer. So Kurt will fly to SLC tomorrow morning and then drive the Wrangler home. It looked very nice even if it needs some minor works here and there. Hannah will look cool in it and she's excited.

I took the late flight out from Salt Lake City back to Las Vegas. I was anxious to get home and feel safe. My home is such a haven---a castle full of things that I love. I like the environment that I've created and now I feel like improving it even more so that it feels uplifting, bright and inviting. So I have crafted a few projects. I'm excited to start.

COMPLACENCY AND A TOYOTA COROLLA

I couldn't sleep very well last night. Again. It's 5 in the morning and I am getting ready to make the 6 hour drive to Provo, Utah to drop off our Toyota Corolla to our daughter who attends BYU and fly home on the late flight back. My husband will then bring home the Jeep wrangler that my son will no longer be using since he will be going to George Washington University Law School in DC in the fall. He will fly up to Provo on Friday to do that.

I have not taken a long solo drive since...around 1990. It will be interesting.

I did not learn to drive a car until I was around 30 years old. I just didn't have to. Growing up in Manila, we had a driver/chauffeur who took us to school every morning or drove us wherever we needed to be. Traffic in Manila is just terrible so I was only too happy to be chauffeured in a nice air-conditioned car in the sultry weather of the Philippines.

When I left the country to attend school in Hawaii, I still had no need to drive since I did not own a car and the campus was small enough for everyone to just walk around. So, 6 years later, I found myself alone with two toddlers and a handicap---I did not know how to drive let alone attempt to drive a manual transmission car...which was what we owned.

But I learned to drive and all of a sudden, I discovered a freedom that I had never before experienced. I could go anywhere I wanted, when I wanted to and take any route I wanted. That was joyous.

In the ensuing years, and four children later, my driving became limited to jaunts around the suburb doing what suburban moms do. Slowly, I avoided making long drives on the freeway. And then I decided I didn't want to drive anywhere outside my side of the city. And still later, I decided I didn't want to drive anywhere unfamiliar. Until I found myself not wanting to drive anywhere at all unless I can go on "auto-pilot" and not have to worry about finding directions. I had become complacent: a slave to my own limitations.

I wonder what I have missed out on as I imposed this exile on myself. And I began to ask myself questions about the quality of my choices. Am I a slave to familiarity? Is my comfort zone too narrow and limited? Did I lose my sense of adventure? My passion for new experiences? My zest for combat against the unknown? Do I stay within the 'givens' and not search for 'x' anymore? Is complacency my ball and chain?

So today, I am off on an adventure. I loaded my ipod with wonderful music, got a big bag of popcorn and powered my portable GPS. It's just a quick trip to another state.

When I get back on the late flight, I hope to feel more like my old self.

MAGICAL PROM NIGHT

Hannah gets picked up for Prom by her special "best friend" Nate.