Procrastination

It has been quite a while, hasn't it? You poor motley collection of words, you. I am languishing under the cool and sleepy palms of Procrastination, while the busy water throws itself at me on the sand, reminding me there is work to be done. It wants to pull me over to where it roils, dark and deep and vaguely threatening, urging me to stroke and stroke and stroke until I reach the other side.

And so… “I must go down to the sea again…for the call of the running tide, is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied…”

I lower my head and taste the sea. Time, it seems, has not banished the salty sensation of words on my tongue. Those same words flow down to my fingertips as I graze them over the flow of nouns and adjectives and punctuations I remember swimming in so long ago. And so I submerge myself once more into the wet warmth of words to take up where I left off before the lethargy of Procrastination took hold.....

December

We are sad. My sister-in-law Inday and her husband Sam, finish building their dream house. They are moving away from the apartment next door, bringing Tatay, Nanay, Ia, Elen, and the dogs.

With them, they take away a lot of laughter, the extra watchful eyes we count on when we are away, their cable TV subscription we illegally connect to, and the eggs/sugar/coffee/bell pepper that we borrow from them on occasion.

The dogs' fleas go with them, as well, but this minor detail doesn't detract from our melancholy. Even our kids are quiet. There is no Ia to play with, to fight with, or to tease until she cries. There is no more haven to run to when Mommy and Tatay are mad.

There are a lot of changes, it seems. The apartment compound we live in is being sold to a young couple who run a school for special children not far away. It is being sold by our landlady so her son would stop badgering her for more money to finance his drug habit. We are leery of our new landlords. They are so young!

December

Atch makes good on his promise. It takes me a couple of weeks to remind him, though, throwing my sister and her hugely brilliant engagement rock his way to tickle his mind.

Finally, he drives me to an exclusive jeweller who crafts me a ring on which rests a brilliantly clear stone. I make a pretense of looking at it through the loupe. Cut...color...clarity...cocka-poo... Is a girl supposed to know all these things? Apparently I should, and the wonderful world wide web provides me with the answers.

Still, I get my (post) engagement ring, and all is well with the world.

December

I am within budget by a generous margin. Most of my Christmas shopping is completed by October. Perhaps the coming year will be one where I am finally free of debt.

December

For Christmas, Woog gets the much-coveted Nintendo Game Boy he has been whining about for the last two years. Atch's wallet has a hefty dent in it. But no matter, Woog is happy. He leaves his other new toys and books lying around like so much discarded fluff.

His four-cornered, damp-towel parents immediately establish the rules: no playing on school days, only on weekends. He is so happy, he doesn't care. In fact, he prefers his new electronic contraption over our nightly story time.