Random Snapshots From A Moving Train

Spring Boot Camp

As I looked out my office window, I saw the neighborhood kids out in the cul-de-sac, whizzing by in their rollerblades, obviously  enjoying the clement Sunday (73 degrees Fahrenheit). We have opened most of our windows to let some fresh air in and bask in the gentle cool breeze wafting through. Earlier in the afternoon, Kenny took our doggies to the dog park for some canine socialization and exercise. They came home so tired and sedated that we are pretty much guaranteed a tranquil night of TV viewing. After attending a kid's birthday bash last night, it would be great just to kick back and watch the finale episode of John Adams tonight. This HBO series has truly educated me more about the American history than any other books or annals. I highly recommend it.

At the party, a friend of mine recounted an interesting anecdote about her father. He wasn't such a big fan of the winter season and he probably couldn't wait to go back home to the Philippines. After living in the US for almost a year, his wish was granted and the family went back to visit the home country recently. Apparently, upon their exit from the NAIA airport, he started complaining that the weather was stiflingly uncomfortable and he echoed the same sentiments for the first few days after their arrival. As much as he was truly happy to be back, I reckon he is more appreciative now of the seasonal changes in Chicago.

In a temperate region like some parts of the US, the seasons are marked by changes in the amount of sunlight which may cause animals to go into hibernation or to migrate, and plants to be dormant. Four seasons are generally recognized: spring, summer, autumn, winter. Needless to say, spring and autumn are my favorites. The winter blues are such a drag, as most people would agree. The summer days can be such scorchers at times that it can cause people to pass out or dehydrate.

In comparison, a tropical region like the Philippines has only the rainy (or wet, or monsoon) season versus the dry season, because the amount of precipitation may vary more dramatically than the average temperature. Back then, it never occurred to me to check on the daily weather forecast or temperature before heading out. Rain or shine, all I needed was my trusty umbrella.

Now that April is giving way to May, I'm starting to put away most of my winter gear but kept some items to tide me over some cooler and rainy days. Admittedly, I loath packing away my Uggs and I'm contemplating on keeping a couple of pairs of boots around, just in case. It might be facetious of me but I do have a bit of a fixation on this type of footwear. If I can afford it, I might already have a closetful that could rival Carrie Bradshaw's penchant for Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos.

What could have triggered this kind of a fetish? It must had been when I was a young girl and I laid eyes on an image in a magazine of a young woman wearing a pair of chestnut-colored western (cowboy/girl) boots. It looked so cute and hip and I remember wanting a pair so bad.

Those type of footwear were obviously hard to come by at that time, unless you count the white go-go boots that the school band "majorettes" wore during parades. I was so painfully inhibited and vulnerable about my rotund and blemished limbs that I would be the last person you'll see in public, wearing a short skirt while happily twirling a baton.

Therefore, it was not such a big surprise that I went totally gaga over my first pair of winter boots. I couldn't wait for the first drop of snow so I could put them on. I strutted around in them like a delusional runway model. It wasn't just me though. My roommates were as enthusiastic to break in their brand new heavy coats, knitted hats and scarves, gloves and boots. Of course, we had a lot of pictures taken seemingly enjoying the cold weather while holding up a handful of snow like it's the most precious thing we've ever seen. I'm guessing almost all winter neophytes have comparable images in their albums as well. I've certainly perused similar photos in some Friendster profiles. It's just one of those universal experiences we share as immigrants, I suppose.

A few weeks more and I really have to send my beloved boots to storage. I will probably mark that day by treating myself to a nice pedicure. God knows what my feet went through for the past few months. Thank goodness there are no photos of them in the Internet. That's the one image we need not share... ever.

Chicken Soup for the Blogger's Soul

I'm baaaccckkk!!! And it feels... pretty darn... super!

First of all, I would like to soothe those who might have had some concerns about my well-being due to my protracted hiatus from the blogging world. The emails and messages you have sent truly bestowed me the succor I needed to replenish my passion for writing again despite some impediments. I've had some health setbacks but nothing too ominous to be alarmed about, in retrospect. Most of my SLE symptoms are less flagrant ever since I started on a medication regimen but I must admit that my abrupt absence from Friendster and blogging was brought on by a forbidding episode a couple months ago. I believe it might have been precipitated by a particularly hard-hitting and stressful time at work and generally, just feeling the pressures of life and responsibilities. In a nutshell, I was skating on thin ice and it finally cracked under me.

I woke up one day and discovered that my entire body was seemingly ravaged with an inexplicably angry rash which of course made me itch so bad as if a colony of ants took up residence on my skin. It was indeed very uncomfortable but I was more petrified and feeling deeply despondent that things have become more dire than I anticipated. Whatever amount of bravado I had was overwhelmed once I allowed myself to mull over the likely dismal future of living with the condition. I'm not really the kind of person who will blithely profess to feeling "depressed" at a slightest emotional letdown but for a few weeks, I felt like I was just handed a death sentence. I was living in my own world of dread and panic in which words of reassurance fell on deaf ears.

Thankfully, as the rash cleared (I am now a big fan of Prednisone), the doldrums slithered away. The light at the end of the tunnel beckoned and I slowly uncoiled from the fetal position I was in. In time, I dared to rejoin the optimists welcoming me back on the other side.

Undoubtedly, unsettling occurrences and flare-ups are yet to come but hopefully, I'll be better primed and armed with my utopian arsenal of courage, faith, lofty goals and preponderant support from family and friends (including you, Friendster peeps). I've had a salubrious serving of chicken soup and this blogger's soul is on the mend. Again, thank you (you know who you are) for your unceasing encouragement and continued patronage. I hope you are all thriving and blessed in your lives as well.