Kayaking With Ain

Cousin Ain. It's been a very, very long time since she and I spent time together. So when she sent me a text message, inviting me to go kayaking with her, I jumped at the opportunity. Ain has been known to change her mind at the last minute, so I readied myself early, scrubbed myself extra hard in the shower (in case it's my smell that's been keeping her at bay), packed my lunch, and slathered on the SPF 60, prepared to give her the guilt trip of the century if she called with even a hint of an excuse!

It was the perfect day to be on the water. The temperature soared to an abnormal low eighties, and the air was still. After waiting an hour for our kayak  -  everyone else and their grandma was there, the line was so long!  -  we finally headed out. Funny, I didn't notice all the traffic on the water until we were out there in the midst of it.

Suddenly, a gut wrenching fear gripped me. In front of us, behind us, on port side, on starboard, there were boats of all sizes. Yachts, ski boats, rubber skiffs, sail boats, Seattle Water Patrol, even a tug boat! Every time a horn blared I thought it was directed at us, in our double kayak, which felt like a tiny leaf weaving between behemoth vessels that don't care about it. I thought about the fisherman in his canoe, off the coast of Bohol, minding his own hooks when the Star Craft ferry ran it over! (This happened the last time I was there, in September of 2012.) And the second predominant thought going through my panicked mind as we paddled steadily through the Montlake Cut was if we get tipped over and/or if my iPhone falls into the water, I'm diving for it!

We made it to the relative calm of the arboretum. "Relative" because of the dozens of other paddle boaters in there with us, and the countless college co-eds, acting like they're all grown up with their cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, jumping into the cool, marshy, turtle infested lagoon of the arboretum. Other than that, the water in there was like glass.

After our fair share of exploring every inlet we came across, and getting tangled up with a pair of kayakers in a dead end amidst a grove cattail grass, we headed back to the dock. We braved the throng of motorized boats again, this time though, more confident, even passing a pair of single kayakers.

Come to find out, this weekend was the opening of boating season. No wonder every boat and their mini replicas were out there!

"Next time," Cousin Ain said, "let's explore Lake Union."

Next time, we won't run into a regatta.

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Happy Kids

Mayet is blessed with the most wonderful children anyone can ever ask for. They are such happy kids, glad to hang out with her anywhere, easy to appease when they need comforting, and content with each others' company.

One of my favorite sights of spring is the cherry blossoms. It assures me that winter is over, and that beautiful growth of the coming warmer seasons is upon us.

What do cherry blossoms and the kids have anything to do with each other, you ask? A cherry orchard  -  or is it called a grove?  -  makes a wonderful backdrop for a photo shoot with the kids, and stirs their imagination!

 

 

Of course, spring in the Pacific Northwest isn't exactly warm, especially in the shade. And Jaida let us know this by crying in her itsy-bitsy voice "hand cold!"

So Mayet laid out a blanket on a sunny spot, and gave the kids their afternoon snacks. And that's where they laid, munching on cheese sticks, carrots and ranch dip, and cereal bars while Mayet continued with the our photo shoot.

Spring blossoms have a special meaning for Mayet. You can see how much she cherishes it here. And here's a little something about Mayet... as a kid, she was notorious for climbing anything vertical, even walls! Her mother, my cousin, says that she (Mayet) got the ability from her (Mayet's mom) eating so much octopus when she (Mayet's mom) was pregnant with her (Mayet). Was that clear enough? Hah!

So of course, it should be expected that Mayet would not pass up climbing her favorite ink's sake. She's so talented, she did it in heels!

Afterwards, we stopped by the hospital to see Uncle 5-Star. Shea didn't want anything to do with anything attached to the IV post. Jaida, was curious and brave enough to try on the pulse-ox monitor.

And to end the day, we treated our cherry blossom outing and hospital visitation with Red Robin, where the kids had their fill of steak fries and chocolate milk.

No wonder these kids are so happy. Every day ends on a sweet note.

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Speed Racer

Mayet has been running very consistently for the last nine months now, logging about twenty miles a week. That is twenty miles pushing a stroller with two children with a combined weight of about fifty pounds. When she came to visit us she kept up her running routine despite the pouring rain and cold. Well, cold for her anyway, since she is now a Southern Californian.

For her birthday, she got a new pair of shoes specifically selected for her feet's running dynamics, expensive technical socks that promise eradication of blisters, and a pair of custom fit in-soles for good measure. As this was the first time she'd ever worn a pair of "custom fit" athletic shoes with top-of-the-line moisture wicking socks, she thought she could now conquer the pavement with absolute ease. So that very evening, she took to her running route determined to pound out an easy, breezy, nine miles.

 

She didn't accomplish her intended nine miles. She stopped at seven only because her feet and calves were aching very badly! She was so embarrassed to tell me that she might have to return the shoes because they were horrible!

Well, I take the blame for not warning her about custom foot orthodics and motion control shoes. It is always advised, and I practice this advice myself, to break in the new shoes or orthodics gradually. As in, wearing the combo for thirty minutes at a time, walking or lightly jogging, gradually increasing the minutes to to hours, before finally wearing them on a hard run. So I told her to give her new shoes a running chance  -  no pun intended.

A few days later, we went hiking. She wore her new shoes, but also brought her old shoes just in case...

Mayet normally wears clothes that make passers-by take a second look at her. In a good way, of course. This photo may look like it's me, but it's not. That's Mayet wearing my hat and her future mother's-in-law jacket, with Jaida's water bottle poking out of her pocket. (I had Shea's ®Cars water bottle.) I dressed very similarly, only with a properly fitted waterproof jacket. Still, this made me realize how blah I look. No wonder nobody looks at me! If they do, they're probably thinking "poor girl, why is she trying to hide from the world?"

And when those sympathizers see what I had to do for a parking pass, they'd say "Oh so sad! She's also an air head..."

See, most trails in our neck of the woods  - again, no pun intended -  require a parking pass for your vehicle. In my excitement to go hiking for the first time this year, I completely forgot to grab my pass out of my purse before I left the house.

I am a veteran parking offender. In my desperation to curb my track record of parking tickets, I left this note on the dashboard.

"Mm-hm," I can just imagine the park ranger thinking. "Whatever, Air Head. I'm giving you a ticket for sure!" (But no, I didn't get one, gracias ginoo!)

Had I gotten a parking ticket, I would have been too depressed to gorge on burgers and onion rings. And since I didn't, and because I forgot to bring my purse, Mayet sprung for me.

A few days later, I went jogging with Mayet. As we started off, I thought to myself I'm a stronger runner than Mayet, this is going to be an easy jog, especially if Mayet pushes the stroller the whole way. Boy, was I wrong!

She took off almost immediately. She didn't even wait for me! But, I thought, half the route was uphill, and I will catch up to her eventually.

Indeed, I caught up to her on Cherry Street, a very steep incline for about 200 yards. "I'm dying!" she huffed, taking short breaths that sounded like wheezing. "[Bleep!], Shea is so heavy!"

Huff-wheeze-huff-wheeze.

"My double stroller is lighter than this dinosaur of a Bob!"

Wheeze-huff-wheeze-huff.

Now I felt guilty. I offered to push the stroller. But she only let me push it for about a minute. "I'll..."

Huff-wheeze.

"Take..."

Wheeze-huff.

"It...

Huff-wheeze.

®Bob makes a wonderful stroller for athletic parents. They're stable, shock absorbent, equipped with five-point harness system for each passenger (Mayet's Bob is a double, of course), and designed specifically for athletic activities on or off road. And of course, the latest models are more superior than their predecessors. I have the ®Bob Sport Utility from 2008, and although it coasts like a dream, it's not as aerodynamic and ergonomic and whatever-other-nomic as the latest Bobs.

"Yeah," I said for moral support, "this Bob is about as heavy as yours, even though it's a single." But I wasn't going to offer to take it again because it was, indeed, quite heavy!

Remembering a Running tip I read a few weeks ago, I encouraged her accordingly.

Still feeling the guilt of owning this outdated stroller which Mayet was pushing with agony, I suggested to take a quick breather at the crest of the hill, and enjoy the view while we were there.

The Sport Utility is the only model that has a hand-brake, quite practical when going downhill on a dirt trail. While taking our breather, Mayet remembered this. "I wonder if the brake is on?" she murmured. And a second later, "DAMN!

THE FRIGGIN' BRAKE HAS BEEN LOCKED THE WHOLE TIME!

NO WONDER I'M DYING HERE!

AAAAAAARG!"

At that, she unlocked the brake, and took off.

This time, she took off even faster than before. So fast that traffic had to be stopped to let her pass!

Well, not really. Traffic had to be stopped because of some road construction that we had to run by. But, seriously, she did take off like a sprinter in contention for the Olympic Gold Medal.

The distance between us grew exponentially as we continued on with our jog. Eventually I completely lost sight of her.

When I finally pulled into my driveway, Mayet was relaxed and calm, as if she hadn't even exerted an ounce of sweat. She must have completed her stretches long before I got there.

Enough said. I see my warrior days coming to a close.


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Jaida Talk

Jaida is practically two years old already!

When asked, she'll point at her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her head. Which helps when one can't quite decipher her baby talk.

She imitates what she hears. So when I told Sonya to down,  Jaida repeated "So-yah dun!"

"So-yah het" meant I want to touch Sonya's head.

"Sah-yeeh cheh" meant I want to sit in Uncle Scotty's chair.

"Watts pooteh" meant I want to watch the computer.

"Peecheh so-ya seep! Kooh nigh!" meant Preacher, Sonya, go to sleep! Good night!

But this smile doesn't need words to convey what a good morning it was!

A Child's First Birthday. Party.

I went to a 1st birthday party last weekend. This is Noah. He is Little Brother to a four year-old, son to a young man whom I first met when he was maybe seven years old?, grandson to very close friends of my family whom I took up to call Tito and Tita, and great grandson to my father's childhood friend.

It was very nice to catch up with familiar relatives, and it was entertaining to get familiarized with new characters. A particular conversation that caught my attention was one with a soon-to-be bride and her uncle and aunt. The uncle, whom I've met a handful of times now, is the type with a youthful and playful heart who keeps up with all things macho including guns, cars, and once, even wore what looked like a fighter pilot's jump suit with badges to boot. I don't know what he does, but I know for sure he is not in the military, much less a pilot of any branch of any organization. Just a father and uncle who enjoys a loving banter with his daughters and niece, the bride-to-be.

The aunt, the uncle's sister, shared his playfulness and his sense of fashion, for, just short a beret, she looked the part of an Army drill sergeant, albeit one with a friendly smile and matronly demeanor.

Bride-to-Be: We have a DJ, not a band. 

Uncle: Can I make song requests?

Bride-to-Be: [with a hint of trepidation, holding up a finger for emphasis] Only ONE song!

Uncle: [paused, pondered his request, as if to make sure he chooses THE ONE best song in his arsenal of wedding party songs.]

Aunt: [interjecting with a bright idea] Me, I have only one request... [pause for dramatic effect, and then holding up both hands, palms facing out in exclamation] Endless Love! [beaming with resolution]

Bride-to-Be: Aw, was that your wedding song?

Aunt: M-hm! [nodding with fond recollection]

Uncle: I would like to hear... [poising to deliver a declaration] LOVE HURTS!

The bride-to-be, having known her uncle perhaps her whole life, shook her head admonishingly and changed the subject before her uncle garnered any leeway into his banter.

Now looking to redirect his humor elsewhere, the uncle turned to his own daughter... I like your hair! It's short on one side, and long on the other! To which the daughter responded with disdain, "um, I've only had this haircut for two weeks now!"

At any rate, this was Noah's first birthday party. But I don't think he cared at all that it was in his honor. He didn't like the loud crowd and unfamiliar faces. He clung to his mommy, his grandpa, or Uncle Daniel, and no one else. 

Frankly, I think this celebration was held for the adults. To celebrate the milestone of life's first year. To indulge in the cutest outfits and most colorful interactive toys, to ooh and aah at the very things they cannot use for themselves anymore. To regress into childhood's blissful, inconsequential recklessness! Case in point...

Most importantly, for any islander, whether Micronesian or Filipino, we gather for the food! And with mouths full, sing Happy Birthday, all the while chewing between the lines of the song. (The food tastes better when you talk - or sing - with your mouth full, I swear!)

I look forward to next year's birthday party!

And many mooooooore!


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Big Brother Accolades

It's great to be a little brother because you get to share in your Big Brothers' accolades. For instance, this week Big Brother No. 2 was inducted into the National Honor Society. We all got to sit in an auditorium and watch a ceremony that involved lighting candles, big-big kids making long talks not about Bakugan, getting annoyed by my Tita Netty to practice applauding for when the time came for it, and finally my brother marching up to receive a piece of paper.

Then I got hold that piece of paper as if it were mine too!

And I got to hang out and be cool with my Big Brothers and their friends!

And all this time, I was in the lime light, like I just discovered the highest secret to destroying the dragon to save the princess in distress at the end of gruesome video game!

Then, because I was the littlest one there, I got to run around and hide amidst a forest of legs while the adults and my Big Brothers had to stand still for the camera.

Later, much to my delight, my mom chose to celebrate the occasion at a restaurant where Santa and Christmas tree trimmings were still on the mantel!

These adults ought to be so grateful for this occasion because this meant they - ahem, Tita Netty, I'm talking about you now - could break their Lenten fast since it was still Christmas there!

Dear Santa, 
Thank you for the special dispensation, which you disguised as Christmas in spring, that allowed my grumpy Tita Netty to finally stop pestering me...

[Burrrrp!]

If it weren't for the endless supply of ice cream, Tita Netty would still be in my ear about wooping and hollering for Big Brother No. 2 getting a piece of paper.

Thank you also for starting me out as a little boy who doesn't have to worry about checking Facebook updates every two minutes, and Tweeting about the fried chicken, fried shrimp, fried rice, fried beef, fried fish, and French fries on the tables.

And about my Big Brothers' accolades... can they count toward MY future accomplishments too? Afterall, Mommy did say that Big Brother No. 1 was inducted into the National Honor Society twice. The first time when he was still in mommy's belly, and the second time three years ago. These pictures show me holding that special piece of paper...

Trying Hard,
Jamesie Cat