I greeted the new year with a terrified dog in my arms. While deaf old Inday slept through the whole racket, Palang scuttled around the kitchen looking for cover. Finally she leaped onto my my lap, mewling. “You’re not so tough now, are you?” And then it rained — not hard, just enough to put a damper on the revelry, the cracks and booms giving way to Mariah Carey caterwauling through “O Holy Night” on some neighbor’s speakers. I couldn’t decide which was worse.
A happy new year to you and yours, by the way. With any luck, this year will be better than the one we just survived. I’m not saying it was bad, but still. Here’s to more food on your table and less Magic Sarap on said food. Now there’s something worthy of a resolution.
Isn’t it glorious though? The weather, I mean. Two days going, the sun is out — an abrupt U-turn from the gloom of December. Yesterday I woke up with no plans, but the heat was insistent so I went for a swim. As it turned out, everyone else had the same bright idea. Normally averse to crowds, I plunged right in, gleefully swapping bacteria with strangers. A month of rain can make you do that.
Shall we take a look back at the year that was? On second thought, let’s not. Let’s just say goodbye to all that, along with the ham, the nuts, and the stellini (yes, I finally found out what that pasta was called). Besides, it’s too warm for soup. Tomorrow I hit the weekend market. It’s time to make new memories.
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