Next time, I’ll spell it

Scene: At a popular coffee shop. I’ve just ordered an ice-blended beverage.

Barrista: “Your name for the cup?”

Me: “Ina.”


“No, Ina.”





“Of course. Sorry. Is that with an “I” or a “Y”?”

“An “I”.”

My cup:

Isn't "Dyna" pronounced with a long "i"?


One God?

It seems to make sense to me that there could quite possibly be more gods than The One God. But I’m Catholic; so I’d have to say there could quite possibly be other aspects of The One God (and I don’t mean the Son and the Holy Spirit) that we’ve never acknowledged. It also makes sense to me that these gods could quite possibly not be benevolent the way The One God is. I think of these personas as The One God breaking away from the stereotype we’ve all boxed Him into, or The One God having a bit of fun at our expense every now and then (How boring must it be, after all, being good all the time?). Here then is a short list of those puckish gods:

The Weather-You-Like-It-or-Not God – Always messing up your weekend plans or those outdoor parties you so like hosting. He’s especially motivated when you don’t have a Plan B.

Stub your toe, scrape your knee, or sprain your ankle, recently? That’s the Accidents-Don’t-Just-Happen God.

The Any-Hour-Rush-Hour God – the one who always manages to cause some pileup or mishap on the road on that one day you absolutely have to be someplace early – like to make that 8 am career-defining presentation you spent the whole week working on. Oh he gets a real kick too when you really, really have to go.

The Tip-of-the-Tongue God who not only makes you forget the word, he also torments you by surreptitiously planting the first letter of the forgotten word in your head. Naughty.

But if The One God could ever really have a mischievous alter ego, it would have to be The Surprise God, whose jurisdiction and authority cannot be circumscribed. Anything that can go wrong and that does go wrong – that’s him. And you can bet each time he’s jumping up and down and squealing, “Surprise! Surprise!”

Art by my 8-year old (Copyright reserved and protected)

Random (Caffeine-Induced) Thoughts …

Silly. Me. (Art by my 8-year old)

Things that popped into my head today as I was “people watching” while enjoying my coffee, at the mall:

1. I must not judge the old lady who’s shrieking at the barrista for allegedly messing up her order. She clearly forgot to put on her teeth this morning and is venting.

2. I must stop trying to understand the point of reality shows like “Jersey Shore”. Seriously, I could go crazy. (How did this pop into my head?, you might ask. I spotted a girl who looked like Snooki.)

3. Middle-aged women should resist the temptation to walk into a Forever21 shop without a teenager in tow. “Forever 21” is a lie; it’s called marketing. Sucker.

4. A “muffin top”* ain’t sexy, lady. (Spotted Snooki again.)

5. There should be a sign beside every mall escalator that says: “Management will not be responsible for any injuries sustained while riding down the escalators wearing dark sunglasses.” Fluorescent lighting, hello?

6. Aw. HHWW.** And he’s carrying her shopping bags for her … Been together 2 months. Tops.

7. Women who are over 40 and who have dimples shouldn’t wear mini-skirts. Old, be-dimpled knees and mini-skirts just don’t go together. (Wait, was that Snooki again?!)***


* According to Wikipedia [the authority on all things significant in our lives, yes], a “Muffin-top” is “a generally pejorative slang term used to describe the phenomenon of overhanging fat when it spills over the waistline of pants or skirts of overweight people in a manner that resembles the top of a muffin spilling over its paper casing.”

** “Holding Hands While Walking”


***Post script…

Who is Snooki, you ask? And what is “Jersey Shore”? Seriously?

The Snooki doll. Or is it "action" figure? Yikes. Scary. (Photo and story from

Snooki on the phone. All the time. Would someone please explain the goose phone to me? (Photo and story from

Snooki gets arrested for disorderly conduct. (See photo and story on×300.jpg)

Snooki's wardrobe malfunction. (Photo from See the story of Snooki's wardrobe malfunction at

And that about sums up “Jersey Shore” and Snooki.

John Lennon’s Dead, Dad

Scene: My parents (my 68-year old mom and 73-year old dad) and sister are having lunch at a Japanese restaurant named “John & Yoko” (in Alabang, Muntinlupa City).

Mom (to no one in particular): Do John Lennon and Yoko Ono, you think, know their names were used for this restaurant?

Sister (ever sarcastic): I’m sure John Lennon doesn’t. ‘Coz he’s dead.


Sister: Last I heard. Really, mom?

Mom (to Dad): Did you know that John Lennon’s dead?

Dad:  John Lennon?

Mom: Yes. Dead.

Dad (shaking his head sadly):  And I just saw him on tv the other day, offering flowers at Whitney Houston’s memorial…

The Manic Magpie: Of God and numbers

Scene: My first grader’s bedroom. We’re doing homework.  And struggling with “subtraction with regrouping”.

Daughter (face all scrunched up):  Mom, how did God make numbers?

Me: Huh? How did God make what?

Daughter:  Nummbers

Me:  Riiight [uh-oh]… Let’s see; God made, er, things, so [quick! think, think!]He had to … uhm … like, count them! [e?!] Yes, that’s it, He had to count them [wtf%#@&?!]. And so He needed numbers …

Daughter: But how?

Me: Oh, yes, right [how indeed]. Well … [think, think, think! quick, quick, quick!] Let’s see. Things are made up of numbers and God created things [ohno-ohno-ohno-ohno] meaning … uh, like length or height or … [Daughter tilting head sideways now; brows furrowed] … uhm, God made all things, actually [ohmigod, how in the world do I get out of this one?], which means numbers were made … [howhowhowhowHOW?!] … exactly the same way things were made!

Daughter (???): I don’t get it.

Me: [Ugh … ] Honestly, I don’t get it either, love. It’s a mystery to me.

Daughter:  Oh … Ohhh [eyes growing wide] … It’s a mysssstery … [a smile? a smile!]

Me: Yes [bingo!]… a mysssstery… [Whew…] Now, why didn’t I think of that earlier?! [Wait. Did I say that out loud?]

[Ugh, I need a beer.]


The Quiet Magpie: My list of must-see films

I learned that a lot of young people have never heard of many of my must-see films that succeeded on plain old good writing, direction, lighting, music and cinematography, and without the benefit of today’s effects technology.  Here’s my initial list.  Got any to add?

  1. Gone with the Wind (even with today’s technology, can’t think how this can be improved)
  2. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (one of Jack Nicholson’s best)
  3. Babette’s Feast (love this!)
  4. Heavenly Creatures (not a pleasant film to watch but very good nonetheless; based on a true story, starring a very young Kate Winslett)
  5. The Color Purple (a little too long for me, but worth it; Whoopee Goldberg’s first major film, but NOT a comedy; try to spot Oprah Winfrey)
  6. Remains of the Day (quiet is perhaps the best word to describe it — i’ve seen noisier silent films!)
  7. Camille Claudel (wonderful Isabelle Adjani!)
  8. Steel Magnolias (superb ensemble cast)
  9. Fiddler on the Roof (lovely lovely)
  10. The Godfather (I like the second one best, but you can’t see it without having seen the first first.)

The Manic Magpie: Art I Like

I’m struggling to find my “art style.”  See, I always thought I liked expressionism (which is the kind I grew up with; think Onib Olmedo). But since moving into a collected but decidedly modern / contemporary home, I’ve been seeking out the abstract.

The other day, Hubby came home with this Georgia O’Keefe-ish (or is it “O’Keefe-esque”?) triptych oil-on-canvas painting of a bouquet of calla lilies. (I envy his ability to be moved by a piece of artwork on a gallery wall and to buy on the spot. He’s pretty good at haggling, too.)

I didn’t know what to make of it. Its cheeriness appealed to me, yes. And it reminded me of the flowers in church on my wedding day. But do I like it? I wasn’t sure. Is it even art? I had to think about it.

And where to hang it?

Split into 3 pieces beside the vertical windows along my 2nd storey hallway, it seems to transform itself into abstraction. Nice. The 3 together on a big white wall at the end of the same hall … hmmmm … Jimmie Davis (“… you make me happy when skies are gray … please don’t take my sunshine away”) and Karen Carpenter (“… don’t love me for what you intend or hope that I would be ….”) are singing in my head, somehow in chorus.

It’s most certainly swaying me.

The Manic Magpie: Nap Time

Scene 1: In my bedroom. After lunch today. As I’m organizing my closet.

Me (to my 8-year old daughter): “Go take your nap in your room, please. I’ll be there in 5 minutes to check on you.”

Daughter: “Mommy, can I take my nap inside my laundry bag?”

Me: “Inside your what?!

Daughter: “My laundry bag. The one in my room.”

Me (confused; thinking it must be a trick to avoid napping): “How will you manage that? No. I don’t think you’ll be able to sleep…”

Daughter (ever the negotiator): “Check on me after 5 minutes. If I’m not asleep, I’ll move to the bed, okay?”

I give in, certain I’ll win this one.

Scene 2: My daughter’s bedroom. 5 minutes later.

The Manic Magpie: Date Night Tonight!

2012's pretty dozen ...

This year, Hubby and I decided to skip our annual Valentine dinner out. It’s not that we’re jaded  (Check out my beautiful flowers!). After 10 years of marriage, we’ve just, well, happily found our feet, so to speak. So we’re spending our first Valentine’s Day in our new home on the couch, in front of the tv, munching on popcorn and chips (or maybe pizza!), and enjoying a movie together (I’m guessing it won’t be a love story either). Can’t wait.

The Manic Magpie: Corona’s Chair

While on the subject of chairs, Chief Justice Corona’s must be a most extraordinarily comfortable one; he refuses to leave it! So I set about trying to figure out which chair could be responsible for the constitutional mess we now find ourselves in.  Below is the suspect line-up:

Chairs from Space Encounters

Any of these chairs from Space Encounters (see; Did I mention I looooove this shop?) could be the culprit. I have a strong feeling it’s the green chair – even Hubby was so smitten; it now occupies an exalted spot in our bedroom.  But the red Papa Bear chair looks suspicious … Hmmmm….