The allergy culprits

Inspired by the new chapter syndrome of the coming new year and my long bout of allergic rhinitis and cough, I decided to clean out my side of the room. I have unwittingly amassed dust and dust balls with stuff that I had the forgotten intention of dealing with at a "more appropriate time".

All these weeks I was blaming the weather and pollution for my sneezing, headaches, nasal congestion, and cough, when here, next to where I sleep -- within breathing distance at my most vulnerable resting and stressed hours -- lay what could be the culprits:  dust-gatherers by my bedside!

dealing with monster clients

Tomorrow, I meet with a very difficult client.  "The" difficult client where I work.  I don't have to see or meet said client (let's call her "C") on a regular basis, thank God.  But those who do, they cower at the very thought of the regular meetings with C.  These unfortunate ones have different ways of dealing with C and the variety of symptoms they acquired from frequent exposure to C, and these range from breaking out in hives, difficulty breathing, stomach disorders, sudden new twitches, and even hysteria!  Imagined or not, they suffer from it, right about 24 hours before and another 24 after the meetings.  Naturally, they put all the blame on the said client.


No one was spared, apparently, because even our own resident temperamental and stern b*tc*y top gun got the treatment and suffered for it. She has taken the most hits, I believe, judging from her 'symptoms' that come once a week, on the dot.  Hard to believe, but she has reached a point of addiction to these hits and seems to crave for them.  And her curious love-hate for C lingers.

what's her takeaway this year?

Our youngest -- a precocious, charming, witty, little girl with a head of tight curls -- turned seven recently.  She's now in first grade and since school opened, has attended a 7th birthday party almost every weekend.  All of these celebrations were theme parties, meant to thrill today's seven year old grown-ups (Fancy Nancy's) with booths for face painting, salons for funky hairstyles, red carpet-style photos, glam accessories, and little girl games.  Those are apart from chef-designed girly-girl party food and loot bags.

These milestone celebrations have fanned the party and event business frenzy like anything, with themes, concepts, gimmicks, and party favors that would make any kid go crazy about turning a year older. Yet some parents just don't stop there.

Another year older!

I celebrated my birthday a couple of days ago without a bang.  No fanfare, no party, no surprise whatever by anyone.

In spite of the absence of balloons and candles, it was a milestone, even just for me.  Especially for me.  

I never wondered what I'd be doing at this age. I never actually charted a dream alongside this age.  I had, "when I'm 13...", "when I'm 18...", "when I'm 21...",  "by the time I'm 30...", "definitely when I'm 40..." dreams and goals, but I can't recall one placed at my age.  Although it's another year that takes me closer to the dreaded decade (at least for me), it's a nice number, and I gave myself a silent pat on the back for having made it to this age without looking like I'm this age. According to my harshest critics: all my children, no less... even if they had this baffled look on their faces.  Undeniably, Facebook and text message greetings helped a lot, too.

when I can't pretend not to notice

People have unique quirks -- one of mine happens to be being O.C. ('anal' to many of you) about certain things. I try to go beyond them as much as I can. Having reached this fabulous age, I know when to give up, and when something is simply beyond my control... or boundaries. But there are those I really just couldn't pretend not to see, and these are the top five that I've been O.C. about since I was little:

  

I semi-ditched the notebook/planner once

For nearly a decade, I carried this leather planner every. Where. I. Went.  Nearly!  It was an upgrade from the student planner I used in preparation for "greater things to come". Since it was a bulky, multi-compartmentalized, tabbed three-ring binder in heavy two-toned leather (the better to go with every purse or outfit *wink*), I couldn't always put it in my purse.  So, wherever I went -- shopping, to work, riding the bus, the supermarket, carrying a tray in a fastfood restaurant, ordering and taking my coffee to-go -- it would be hand-held, tucked between my upper arm and my torso, or hugged close to my chest.  Needless to say, lugging the planner limited the range of movements of one arm.  But I always thought I would die without it, so I didn't mind.

crazy things I did for love

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done for love that you didn't think you were capable of doing?"

Craziest?  For love?  That got me thinking... I was actually stumped. 

After finally submitting a cover story way beyond the deadline set for this magazine I love to write for, I am asked to submit a sentence or two in reply to this unsettling question for the contributors' page.  And I thought completing the cover story over the frenetic holidays was a challenge. I think: the article is for the February issue.  February, Valentine's, Love.  But, of course.

So, about Facebook...

Sure, I happen to be one of those who embraced Facebook. All it took was a couple of invites, and I was hooked. And -- surprise!--I am still at it. My day is not complete without logging into Facebook and checking updates. Live updates.

On days when I try to deny my Facebook dependence, I check my Email inbox... to check on Facebook notifications. Then there's no beating around the bush from there. I click on the nearest link that'll take it to my fix for the day. The hour.  Ok, no --  the moment.

I fell in love with Facebook because of the wonder of connection and reconnection it provided.  Long-lost X's of all kinds.  I got a thrill with every notification that an old friend had found me.  Even our clan's egroup has dwindled down to personal messages. News and photos go directly to Facebook. Can I even count the many times I've thanked God for Facebook?!  Not to mention the times I swore and believed with all my heart that FB was made for people like me: