Just a phase

Jerome’s comment on the possibility of my being pregnant as being the explanation for the slowdown in my creativity was very amusing.  =)  I think it just happens when it happens, and there are times when I am in exactly the reverse state – that is, I cannot stop writing.


It’s just a phase brought on by certain events in my everyday life which I can see, and I hope, is coming to pass.


I’m on the express bus again – and with Alan still at work, I can write and type away here.  By the time I get home I will have to get busy cooking.  Fortunately it’s a dry commute home – no rain, but the sun is setting earlier and earlier as fall approaches.  By winter, it will be pitch black by 5PM. 


Manhattan is brimming with tourists.  Good for business.  Alan’s hotel was sold out over the Labor Day weekend, so we weren’t able to get a room as we were planning to just to do something different as we planned to go museum hopping.  We didn’t get to do that but it was a good family weekend after all – at least for Alan, Angel and me. 


I’ve long learned to temper my expectations with pragmatism.  I don’t fret when things don’t happen as I would’ve wanted them to.  I guess with age, I have mellowed down and learned that there are more things beyond my control than there are that are within my grasp.  As Alan would say, it’s important that one learns to go with the flow.


I’ve been trying, but I haven’t always been successful.  Sometimes you just can’t resist on insisting on what you want, instead of conforming to what is taking place.  I just don’t resist too much anymore.  I’ve learned that sometimes it pays to just let go – even if only for the moment – and fight the battle another day.


It’s a touchy situation at home as the stepson doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.  School has started and he’s definitely staying with us.  It is bad enough to be in the same house with someone you aren’t on speaking terms with, but it’s worse when you have a freeloader bumming around not helping at all.


I’m sure those of you whose Moms live with you will be able to relate with my resentment of the fact that my Mom does so many chores with no effort at all from the stepson at helping out. He only washes his dish and glass, and sometimes even forgets to do so.  His Lola, my mother-in-law, is constantly picking up after him – which, in a sense, is very frustrating for me because he has become all the more lackadaisical and unmoving knowing his Lola is there..


This is really a battle I’d rather not fight but I am appalled at his nonchalance about his shortcomings and lack of interest in coexisting with the members of our household.  I am resentful of the way he treats his Dad which says a lot about the way he treats me.  And I keep hearing an echo in my head of him telling me in our last argument that I am his only problem in this house.  Amen.


(This is the reason I have not written about this – I start getting too emotional about it.. and it cannot be helped because it IS an emotional issue.)  It’s an issue that Alan and I are trying to deal with, and it’s quite a struggle.  It gets to be very frustrating when I find myself boxed in and I cannot do anything about the situation.  And then it just turns me numb.


I am only human and I succumb to the sin of selfishness, I must admit.  I want a home were there is minimal strife.  I want the father of my son to be respected and loved because he deserves it.  I want to be respected in my own home.  I don’t want my son to see any of this negativity as he grows up.  But it is not all that simple, it is not all that easy.

Bits and Pieces

My days, of late, have been preoccupied with giving vent to my creative impulses.  So I’ve been busy layouting scrapbook pages for a handful of albums, primarily those pertaining to my Paris adventure of February 2005.  I have officially uploaded over 50 layouts since the middle of July which is a LOT considering I’m just starting, and from the looks of it, it will be a constant project from hereon.

Over the weekend, I tried to sort through my storage space in the hall closet and found the thread guide for a long-delayed cross stitch project which I hope to finish in the coming 6 weeks.  Once done, I will frame that image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help and see it hung in the hallway.  

The days are getting much cooler after such a long, scorching summer.  One of my projects in the coming days is to start stowing my summer clothes and shoes and start preparing for the colder days of fall.  Not quite winter yet, but it’s getting there.

I can’t wait to take out a tubao scarf I have which my sister had gifted me during her last visit.  The weave is a pretty simple lavander design but I have always had a soft spot for tubaos.  The truth is, all my handkerchiefs are tubaos in various colors — I have a dozen of them  here — and I wouldn’t give that up for any of the fancy hankies you can buy in the department stores.  And my two clapotis-like scarves from Paris will do me well during this pre-winter weeks.  They aren’t fancy scarves but warm and unique — and bought in a solitary tiangge-like stall in a corner right in the heart of Paris.  Alan and I were walking to dinner that night and when it said 3 for 5 Euro, I couldn’t resist!  There was a whole mound of them all mixed up, so I waded in and made my pick!  Thinking back now, I should’ve gotten 6 instead of just 3. =(  

People are already wearing the thinner scarves as accents and to keep warm in the usually chilly mornings.  Soon the foliage will change and the landscape will be a carpet of red and oranges.  

Six years ago, I arrived in the thick of summer and saw my first autumn unfold in a very quiet community not too far from where we live now.  I used to gather fallen leaves to press between my magazines or thick books.  I then pasted them onto a cardboard frame which I have til now, the leaves now a crisp dry coating.  I had put them away when we moved but will now put them up again in my attic.  Handiworks of love.