Can't take the house out of the man

OFTEN I have dreams happening inside the houses I've lived in while growing up.

It's been 10 years since I left the neighborhood and built a home of my own with my family some 60 kilometers away, but when I dream of something taking place in a house, it's always the houses I've known when I was a kid.

Rarely was my dreams set in our present home in Bulacan. But I reckon our house right now would be the default setting of Mavi and Maxi's dreams even in their adult years.

I came to think about it because a few weeks back I bought something from Mercury Drug in the corner of Luis Shianghio St. and Kamuning Road. It was the exact same spot where my parents used to have a sari-sari store in my pre-teens. In front we sold softdrinks, cigarettes, LPG, candies, and behind it served as our living quarters.

The counter where the pharmacist took my orders used to be the spot where we placed a table so people in the summer can have halo-halo sitting down. Its parking space used to be a small plot where my brother Jonjon burned his eyebrows lighting a mound of gunpowder from the previous night's New Year's Eve celebration.

Just a block away stood an apartment building which served as our first house. Several years back, when I already had a job but was living in another house nearby, the place was converted into a multi-level beer joint. One evening after work I tried to visit the place and have few bottles there.

In short I had that Jack Nicholson moment in About Schmidt where he journeyed back to his old house only to find a tire store built on its place. Dennis Lambert also touched on it in a heartfelt song that began with these lines: ``They're tearing down the streets where I grew up, like pouring brandy in my dixie cup...they're pouring concrete on a part of me, no trials for killing off a memory...''

We hit four of six winning numbers

SOME years back I had the chance to become one of the lotto draw observers. There were six of us in a panel and I represented the media sector. The draw was then being held at the government-owned station, NBN-4 in Visayas Ave., in Quezon City.

I arrived there an hour before the 9 p.m. draw. Early enough to catch the then host Tina Revilla rehearsing her opening spiel and marvel at how well the lady carries herself even when cramming for her lines. She was wearing thick foundation, bright red lipstick and big, brown and bouncy hairdo.

I didn't see any reason to doubt the draw. There was nothing underneath the table from which the tambiolo is placed. And we got to touch at random the numbered balls that was to be sucked up by the drawing machine.

The gig, much-anticipated by my family and neighbors back in Kamuning, earned me P1,600 as honorarium. That for just staying put for about two hours and watching the whole proceedings happen on live nationwide television.

A few weeks later, I was watching the draw on the office TV sets. I was clutching my ticket which bore my favorite numbers – 9, 21, 42, 11, 2, 32. Revilla started to call out the winning numbers, one by one, in the order that I would never forget:

``9, 12, 42, 11....''

By that time I was already hysterical, unmindful of my officemates who by then already realized that I was headed for richness and fame.

``1, and 34..congratulations to the winning combination ticket holder of 9, 21, 42, 11, 1, 34.''

In a matter of seconds I came crashing back to reality. I got the first four numbers correct only to miss the last two in the narrowest margin possible. Just like that, I missed the P9 million jackpot.

It came to me again because this afternoon we found out that the combination Mavi chose for my father-in-law to bet on got four of six winning numbers. It won us P1,000. Back then the consolation for four correct number was only P500.

Mellow touch stays with us

Lately I have developed the habit of You Tubing for music videos of songs I almost never hear on the radio anymore.

Take for example Kathe Green's Alone Again and Free. Nobody plays it anymore. Not even RJ 100.3 which is about the only FM radio station still playing the genre popularized by DWLL 94.7 in the late 70s and early 80s.

If you're about my age, chances are you also love this kind of music: Stonebolt's I Will Still Love You. Neil Sedaka's Perfect Strangers. Tavares' Hardcore Poetry. Dan Henry's 20 Minutes Before Takeoff. David Castle's Ten to Eight. Dan Hill's Sometimes When We Touch.

The list is endless, mostly those that comprise the soundtrack of our youth. But sadly no longer getting airtime they used to have back then.

Further back in the time when I was still required to sleep in midday lest I don't grow up, I remember At Seventeen by Janis Ian, Lovin' You by Minnie Ripperton, the only song whose second voice was provided by a bird.

When I was making an attempt to learn to play the guitar back in high school, I was bestfriends with Loving Arms, that hit by Rita Coolidge and Kris Kristofferson with the very arresting opening lines.

Love Won't Let Me Wait is ideal on a rainy evening when you're alone with the wife, and that's not just because of the sound of a woman moaning in the background.

Morning, Noon and Nightime fits any given Sunday, and when you're driving home tired from a long day in the office, Great Day should be it.

They don't make this kind of music anymore. Probably they still do, but the kind of stuff they're coming out with no longer has that same effect on us.

Goma and I didn't shave last Sunday

ATHLETES and show biz stars go about in worlds that intersect, and in my line of work, it's not a rare chance when I get to mingle with movie and television personalities from time to time – even when I'm actually covering professional sports. Like baseball.

This was last Sunday when the sun didn't feel like showing up all day. The first game between Manila and Dumaguete was rained out but organizers decided that the pitch was dry enough to let the match pitting Cebu and Makati go ahead.

Cebu, in case anybody bothered to know, is the defending champion in Baseball Philippines. It boasts of one of the country's best pitchers like 27-year-old Joseph Orillana, and a host big hitters like veteran Joel Binarao and upstarts Miggy Corcuera and Nico Uichico.

And, of course, it has the most famous rightfielder in the land – movie actor Richard Gomez.

For some reason, Gomez seemed to excel in just about any sports he went into, namely golf, rowing, fencing, trap shooting. In most of which he became member of the national team and won Southeast Asian Games gold medals.

Baseball, though, is a different story. He is seldom used, and when he gets called from the dugout, he is often struck out, either swinging or standing -- which only meant that he didn't get to swing the bat at all.

And so it surprised everybody at Rizal Ballpark when, on the top of the second inning, he actually hit a linedrive to the right for an RBI single. In basketball, that is about as spectacular as scoring a jumper off a tight defense.

Just the same, his feat didn't merit an interview from the sportswriters who went for Binarao who in the same game hit a grandslam or a four-run homerun – which in basketball is the equivalent of a game-winning slam dunk that even drew a foul.

Gomez just stood there as the reporters milled around the day's hero. But of course, you don't ignore a show biz icon like him. When he was introduced to me, I shook his hands and made small talk like we're friends from way back.

``Pare, hataw yung second inning mo, RBI single yun ah,'' I told him.

``Onga, medyo maganda ang hitting namin,'' he said.

``You remember your championship match last year, when you hit a triple (when the game was all but won by Cebu already and it actually didn't matter anymore)?'' I said. ``I wrote you a feature story for Inquirer.''

``Kaw ba yun?,'' Gomez said, his eyes brightened up. ``Pare thank you, may clippings ako nun.''

We exchanged high fives.

Listen, standing close to him I realized he wasn't that tall. If I only stood straight and didn't wear flat sneakers, I'd probably be about his height. He is also as dark-skinned as I am. His face was small and covered with two-day old stubble.

I also went out of the house that day without shaving. And later after talking to him when I looked in the mirror, I realized something:

If I squint my eyes hard enough, and probably lose some pounds, and maybe straighten my spongey hair, we actually look alike.

Lozada loses battle against rice

I USED to amaze friends who drop by our house at dinner time. I was in midteens back then in Kamuning. That was the time when I was having a four-inch summer, meaning when my growth hormones was working triple time.

The reason was that I can consume a plate brimming with steamed rice with just one boiled egg as viand. Sometimes with a few strands of instant noodles or meat, but the feat revolved around how I can eat as many rice with as little viand as possible.

It's the opposite now. Sometimes I don't have rice at all. But this came to mind after I heard yet another news report on the rice shortage, which is beginning to sound tired and suspicious at the same, if you ask me.

If I remember it right rice shortage wasn't confirmed, and I doubt if it would ever be. But the deluge of news reports about how the price of rice and other basic commoditites have soon buried the issue of the ZTE-NBN deal. The more trendy acronym nowadays was NFA.

Suddenly the same people who watched the Senate hearing live on television as if it was a Pacquiao fight have soon switched their attention to the looming crisis on food (regardless if it's true or not).

Whoever thought of the diversionary tactic did a brilliant job. You want the Filipino masses' attention, strike a chord closer to their stomach. Mas malapit sa bituka mas maganda.

I vacuumed a mouse

I READ IT from the legendary Andy Rooney that vacation shouldn't be taxing to make you feel like taking another after having one. Well unfortunately I think I just had one the past nine days.

The run-up to our grand excursion to the beach was gripped with suspense and slam-bang action. Maxi had back-to-back affairs in school. I had three coverages right on the last day before the trip. Vangie had errands. Mavi was busy wondering what bikinis to wear.

What we left behind were mountains of laundry and a wild jungle, rain-forest of a house. We kept them in the deep recesses of our minds, hoping they will disappear while we basked in the sun and drink margarita and vodka martini by the beach.

But sure enough, we came back home to their menacing embrace. And just as soon as we realized we had a lot of stuff to do, move, transfer, throw away, file, and clean up, the energy we have recharged over the weekend drained just as fast.

There were some excitement in the general cleaning, though.

Like when the juggernaut reached the kitchen –where we also kept our shoes – Vangie noticed something stirring from among the boxes underneath. So she called up the Man of the House.

I'm not afraid of critters, roaches or rats. I once crushed a two-foot snake coiled by the washing machine one evening after arriving from the office. But that was topic for another blog entry.

One by one, with bated breath, I took out the boxes. Silently I was preparing for something to jump on me. But nothing came out until I reached the last box tucked in the corner. I lifted it slightly. Shook gently. And out came a small rat.

It hopped away and scurried by the LPG tank. I didn't make any attempt to hit it or crush it by my feet because I might break things. I slammed the kitchen door so it couldn't get into the house and hold my girls hostage. But it dashed by the table and took cover in the hamper now brimming with laundry. I then took a calibrated preemptive response.

I opened the back door in case it decides to lay down its arms and avoid bloodshed. But the suspect refused my offer. Instead, it took refuge in the back of washing machine, by the umbrellas and some clothes that were strewn by the commotion.

Listen, that washing machine, just because it was located near the back door, has now been a favorite battleground between me and small animals.

But I let it rest. I got the vacuum cleaner and cleaned up the mess. From where the shoe boxes were until I again reached the battleground. I moved it gently. Nothing. Vangie asked if it's gone. I said most probably. I moved the washing machine to a different spot so I can vacuum the floor underneath.

I trained the nozzle at the ends of the linoleum fold and then suddenly things happened so fast. The vacuum cleaner went crazy. It's as if it was choking. There was a loud buzzing noise all the way up from the nozzle to the hose and down to the dust bag inside the vacuum cleaner.

Then there was silence. I looked at Vangie and she nodded knowingly, like some mafia boss happy after an excellent whacking job of a rival family member.

Cigar, wine and speedboat ride

I ONLY used that title for effect, but no, I didn't get to smoke sigar and sip red wine while on speedboat last week. We packed light and the decision to hire a speedboat by the hour came in the last minute – or at least after I made sure there was still some money left in my pocket.

It was the third straight summer we hightailed it to Boracay, the past two years timed for Maxi's birthday. Every single time an experience, so I listed up a few things I observed while vacationing in the hottest destination this part of the tropics.

1.It was perfectly cool to hang around and even walk the whole town without a shirt on. That's regardless of what shape you're in. And from what I saw, the ratio of those sporting a well-toned body is 50-50 to those who don't.

2.I have the license to have an ice-cold beer anytime of the day. The earliest I recorded was 9 a.m. just right after breakfast and the wife absolutely had no complaint about it.

3.You can have fresh seafoods cooked as you like it, but it would cost you almost five times more if you decide to have it by the beachfront than in talipapa which is far less fashionable place to eat while in Boracay.

4.Hotel prices along the white beach have big discrepancy, like it's $300 (or its peso equivalent) a night in Discovery Shores, which lies on the same stretch as Marzons which asked for a little more than $50. We planned to stay out most part of the day, and only need a room to sleep so that should be no-brainer.

5.People can still get hurt in the calm, crystal-clear waters. While we're taking a walk one afternoon we chanced upon a crowd milling around a drowning victim.

6.SEAir is true to its advertising claim of 35-minute flight from Manila. I timed it from takeoff to landing and it clocked just 27 minutes.

7.Topless sun-bathers are extremely rare in Boracay. Women no longer undo their bikini top and when some of them do, they're mostly the ones you don't want to see naked.

8.Nobody reads the newspaper in Boracay. You also don't feel like checking out the TV while you're there.

9.There are plenty of water sports to get into, but the best one for me is people-watching because it doesn't cost me anything and I never had to get off from where I was sitting.

10.Mavi doesn't know who the hell Aga Muhlach is. He passed by us in the airport on the way to Manila and he was short and ordinary looking wearing big shades and faded shirt. Anne Curtis looked radiant even when not opening her wide mouth to smile. Both Mavi and Maxi recognized her.

11.Wearing shades on the beach looked cool, but it leaves racoon marks around the eyes which would then force you to wear shades within the next few days until the color in your face are even matched.

12.Watching school of fish of different colors and live coral reef landscape is more fun on TV than when you're peering at them yourself in the open water meters from the rented boat. If you don't know how to use the snorkel, it's twice as worse.