Monday, October 4, 2010

Nothing beats household chores as cross-training

LATELY I was spending time with my stationary bike. Like every physical activity, it's not something you take lightly and plunge into without enough preparation like warm up and stretching.

So last night, after dinner, when the kids are both in bed, I mopped the floor. I went out to wash the car, and realized the engine was dirty too. So I ended up spraying grease-remover on its dirty nooks and cranny, and washed its engine altogether.

It was quite complicated than usual because you have to make sure alternator and battery terminals are not soaked in water. Vangie wanted to make sure I did it right so I tried to start the engine and it did, but of course. In one click.

The neighbors were all probably asleep. But I was just getting started. After that I took out the garbage. From the kitchen to the comfort room and around our small yard, I collected trash and put them in large black bags ready for collection in the morning.

By that time I felt all revved up and ready to break a sweat. So I saddled right onto the bike and thundered on the pedal.

Nothing beats household chores for your cross training needs.

I came to think about it because Vangie got an assignment to write an essay about – what else? -- raising a family without any house help. Her editor wanted her to specially touch on the fact that both of us are working, and meeting the demands of day-to-day including Mavi and Maxi's school schedules.

Now that I gave it some thought, I realized it's no ordinary feat. You're in charge with every single detail of housekeeping, parenting and cooking – topics that I seriously felt must be taught as major courses in college. The good thing about it is we spend a great deal of time at home, and with the girls.

Yet I guess we're not the only ones rolling up our sleeves and doing the dirty jobs ourselves. At this day and age, I know there are parents like us who worry about clogged sink and how best their kids can memorize the multiplication table – and all the while keeping our day jobs.

Her story's coming out in Inquirer Lifestyle on Wednesday.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

You don't sing Bawal na Gamot on Jazz Night at Merk's

IT IS largely unspoken, but there is really such a thing as videoke ethics. It's the code of conduct when singing in parties in front of friends, or sometimes, even strangers.

Like you shouldn't by any means try to sing Stylistics unless you're with very close friends willing to put up with it. And singing only your tried and tested piyesa when there are new faces around because, even in singing, first impression lasts.

It is something learned through the years. Like knowing you're singing out of key when everybody fell silent, looking at their cellphones or just simply looking away.

Same thing with singing the same set of songs over and over again with the same set of friends. It is not something taught in school, but something you either have in you or not.

I came to think about it because last Wednesday I sang on stage, accompanied by Richard Merk's Band, at his place in Greenbelt 3.

I knew trouble was brewing when from the men's room I heard Richard Merk himself calling my name. Turned out my fellow sportswriters volunteered me to sing just when I stood up. So I was there inside the cubicle listening as Merk was calling me out on stage.

``Come on, let's enjoy the band,''' hollered Merk, while I took extra time washing my face.

``Marc, come out already,'' Merk said through microphone. The crowd was laughing, and everybody in the room was into it already. When someone walked by, Merk would ask ``Is that Marc?''

I was planning to sneak out and go home but I left my phone on the table. ``Can somebody check out Marc if he's still alive?'' Merk joked.

Finally, it seemed like Merk gave up and began singing another song. So I slowly walked back to the table, but people from other tables were already greeting me with knowing smiles. It was as if they knew it was me.

And true enough, when Merk finished singing, he called me up. Now here's one thing I know for sure, when you're called up on stage by a celebrity and everyone in the crowd was looking at you, you stand up and take the mic.

He interviewed me briefly, and asked what song I'd like to sing. Now here's where the ethics come to play: I said ``For Once In My Life.''

Merk said: ``Magaling 'to,'' probably because I picked the type of songs they're singing all night. Well, I chose it because I have sang it countless of times already, and the margin of error – when you factor in stage fright and blinding spotlight – is considerably low compared to any other song.

And, of course, you don't sing Aegis on Jazz Night at Merk's.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Feel free to call me

FUNNY how our mind can store a lot of things that have no use to us anymore.

Like old telephone numbers. I grew up having to memorize the phone numbers in my father's tailoring shop. It's 97-58-38. Numbers that are repeated are easier to remember. It's like they have rhymes to them. I don't remember the last time I dialled that number but there's no way I will forget about it.

There were only six numbers in telephones back then. They were printed around the face of a black, rotary handset. And you have to put up with having partyline. Ours happened to be a nearby beauty parlor just a few meters across the brisk and blue-collar Kamuning Road.

Later my mother took over a corner sari-sari store along the same street and it had a phone also. It's 99-82-05. I won't forget that either. Because me and my brother Jonjon would dial the two numbers and talk to each other just for the heck of it.

I got to thinking about it because yesterday I gave up my old cellphone number. It has been with me the past four years and it felt like I parted with an old friend. Specially when I got the call from the service provider telling me it's the final notice for ``permanent disconnection.'' The way they put it it's like you're ending some very important chapter in your life.

Given the choice I would like to keep that number because I don't have to start all over again and text my contacts that I have a new number. But the office issued smartphones which carry with them brand new numbers.

The number I just gave up was 0917-8590489. Before that I had 0917-9408908. It was my first and we lasted seven years. I wonder what they would do with my old numbers. Would they be assigned to other people or thrown away for good? If they are given to other people, I hope they treat them well.

Now back to the service provider, I think the last thing they wanted to happen is to cut a subscriber's line. The person on the phone tried to convince me to keep it and even offered promo to downgrade my monthly fees.

But I stood with my decision, and with a firm voice, I said no.