By Estanislao Albano, Jr.
XRM IN THE RAIN
ne time during her vacation last month, Pia Ursula noted that my motorcycle was out in the rain. She told me to go bring it to the garage but while I was looking for an umbrella, she seemed to have had a change of mind.
She: “Apay madadael ti motor no matuduan, Papa?” (Will rain ruin a motorcycle, Papa?)
Me: “Saan.” (No.)
She: “Bay-am lattan ngarud ta madigos.” (Just let it be then so it will get washed.)
Florence had succeeded in brainwashing her that I never wash my beloved XRM.
FRIDAY AND ME
(with photo of our cat in deep slumber)
Me: “Pirmi a talaga ti kinator-og daytoy a Friday.” (This Friday is such a great sleeper.)
Florence: “Isardengmo mangibagbaga ti kasta panggep ken Friday ta no makasao dayta, isu met laeng ibagana panggep kenka.” (Stop saying that about Friday because if he could talk, he will say the same thing about you.)
NO BRAINS
Florence saw the motorcycle was outside the gate when it rained yesterday so when we were about to leave for the TAMPCO Inn in Appas for her seminar, she told me to get something to cover the seat so that her pants would not get wet. Two holes had developed on the waterproof cover of the seat which let the rain accumulate in the foam and of course, even after some hours the exposed foam would still be soggy.
Me: “Saanak met nabasa tattay rimmuarak.” (I did not get wet when I went out.) (The other hole is on my part of the seat and I used the motorcycle early in the morning.)
Florence: “Natuduan diay motor idi rabii siempre nabasa pay laeng diay foam. Daytan to met ta saanmo us-usaren ti utekmo.” (The motorcycle was rained on last night so the foam is still wet. The matter with you is you do not use your brain.)
Me: “Apay adda aya ngamin utekko?” (Why, do I have a brain?)
FRIDAY AND THE GIRLS
I guess I have told you before how when they were kids, Pia and Aglaia would not heed me because I did not know how to count. When I warn them to stop, I say “maysa” (one), and if they continue to misbehave, I shout “maysa” again and so on. I never get to “dua” or two. I do not remember dealing them physical punishment either. So because of my being soft, they could just do what they please when it was just me in the house like they could quarrel right in front of me as though I was not there. But when Florence is around, it would be rare that they misbehave because a word or a glare from her would be enough to bring them back to their senses.
I remember this part of the family’s history because of the way Friday reacts to me and to Florence. When I eat, he would come up the table and if I do not stop him, he would eat my food right from my plate which sometimes happens. But the moment he hears the voice of Florence, he would jump down the table right away. He never dares climb up the table when Florence is at the table or just nearby.
WHAT MY ELDER SISTER SAYS ABOUT MY DRINKING
Scroll down my Timeline and you will find my comment on the link that not drinking alcohol could cause dementia in which I said that I am not endangered of developing dementia that way because when I was young, I already drunk all the alcohol I need for a lifetime.
My elder sister Flora Belle Amoyen saw the post and commented: “Yes you did. You drunk for the four of us.” My three siblings do not drink.
THE DANGER OF WRONG SENT TEXTS
Some years ago, fellow LGU employee Mike Malamnao and I agreed to have early lunch at the Emilia’s Kitchenette in Dagupan Centro. While waiting for him at the restaurant, all of a sudden my brother-in-law Mike Pekas appeared. When I asked him what brought him there, he said I texted him that I was waiting for him at the restaurant. Apparently, my reminder to Mike Malamnao was sent to him. When I told him what happened, he said that since he was already there, he might as well sit down.
And so it went from one Mike to two Mikes – with me paying the bill.
REVERSED SITUATION
What has been happening is that due to my not so good attendance record in church, my mother would interrogate me on why I was absent the preceding Sunday or Sundays the next time we see each other. Then I had to have a good explanation.
Last Sunday, she was not in church so I went to visit her after the service. I decided to give her a dose of her own medicine.
Me: “Apay nga awan ka idiay kapilya tatta, Mama? Madi a dayta.” (Why were you not in church today, Mama? That’s not good.)
Mama: “No ngamin agtudo ket narigat maiduron dayta luganko ta mapitakan ti pilidna.” (When it rains, my ride – referring to wheelchair – is hard to push because of the mud on its wheels.)
I let her off because I felt the reason was valid.**
