Why Jay?

My mother called me after she got the non-medical grade fabric face masks I sent her in California. I also reminded her not to go grocery shopping, and to have someone do it for her, and so many more reminders.

And then, out of the blue, she asked me why I chose Jay. She asked me that question maybe because the mister and I would be celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary on the same date today, in March.

Her marriage with my father didn't work. From the outside looking in, it looked like it was a struggle to keep it afloat in the close to 30  years they were together. But most of those years, they spent them apart from each other. 

I really think that among her 4 children, that question was only thrown at me. 

"He didn't grab my things, or even offered to carry them for me one time he picked me up from my last class for the day (circa 1990, 2nd year in college). He didn't see me as helpless."

It was simple as that. 

I liked it that  he saw me as strong, and not as some damsel in pretend-distress.

He was  just different, unlike some guys that showed some interest in me.  

That gesture wouldn't make my heart pitter patter like in movies. I hated it. In fact, I'd get annoyed, and felt like I would want to puke. 

Such a major turn off.

Did I look helpless that they needed to carry my things? 

I didn't even like a guy who'd carry my purse even when I would need to go in the ladies room. 

And on top of him not treating me helpless, he didn't leave me even if I showed him my worst behavior, and most of those times they were unreasonable. 

The first time my father met him as my boyfriend, he got so worried. He was worried, not for me but for Jay.

It wasn't a secret in the family, in our neighborhood, and our entire clan that I had anger issues---that I was maldita kaayo (extremely mean). 

In a group of mean girls, I'd be the leader, except that I didn't think I was a bully. I fought bullies, but I always worked alone.

I didn't know how to express and communicate my feelings and my thoughts, but I could express them through anger and tantrums in words meant to kill spirits, and in evil looks and glances.

I didn't have close friends except for my siblings. 

But Jay treated me differently.  He treated me as his best friend.

When we were about at our 2nd decade of marriage, I really didn't put them into words all these years until my daughter asked him who's his best friend. 

"Your mama." he answered her proudly.

One time at a party, I couldn't find Jay, so I asked a friend Alan (RIP Alan) who I met at the stairs on his way up if the mister was downstairs. Then he yelled down and said, "Jay, gipangita ka sa imong kumander in chip!" (Jay, your commander in chief is looking for you.)

Was that a joke? 

I wasn't laughing. 

I also don't like when Filipino wives refers their husbands as their eldest son.

Come on! That's disrespectful to your mother-in-law. And even if it's a joke, it's still not funny. 

The mister treated me as his partner---with equal footing.

I am not Jay's commander. I am his partner.

He is not my eldest son. He is my partner. 

We are each others best friend. We are each others puzzle piece.

Those are some reasons why I chose him. 

Sunday, January 6 at 9:26 am

The mister woke me up. He lied, and told me it's 11 already.

And then, he fixed our bed while I was still in it.

😁

Trickster

On our way to Target to look for floor lamps for our room...

 ♪♫♪♫ thunder only happens when it's raining, players only love you when they're playing... ♫♪♫♪

With confidence, "I know who sang this song!"

I know her style, but I just couldn't remember her name at that moment.

"I saw her on TV it wasn't too long ago. She sounded drunk when she sings. I guess that's her style." I told the mister.

"She got a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Grammy's. I think! I have never seen her hair short or in a bun. She wears 70s loose dresses." I added.

It was so frustrating not remembering her name.

The mister just listened to my ramblings. I kept describing her, and her style. And then...

"OMG! I remember her now... It's Stevie Nicks!"

"But the one who sang this song was a group!" said the mister.

What the heck?

Really?

But I was so sure that it's her---the voice and the style was exactly her. I wanted to argue but he sounded so confident with his answer. So, I Googled it.

It's Fleetwood Mac!

"Told you it's a group!" The mister looked victorious.

And then he laughed.

Looking at some pictures, Stevie Nicks is the singer of Fleetwood Mac.

He tricked me!

In the family, I love to sing popular songs even if most of the time I don't know the names of some singers. With him, he collects vinyl records and listens to music 24 hours a day. If you happen to follow me on Instagram, the videos I posted at night or on weekends when he is home, there's always music in the background even in our room.

He is also the one who always take me to watch shows and concerts. He took me to a sold out show for Khruangbin at the 9:30 Club in Washington DC last December 7. We were so close to the stage that we could reach the bassist from where we were standing.

...and I still couldn't get over that he tricked me.

Hahahaha.

A Late Night Phone Call

The mister went up to sleep ahead of me. We usually go upstairs together, but when he said he wanted to go, I said okay because I still have some things to finish in my shop. It was warm in our room already since I turned on our portable heater prior to him making me coffee earlier in the evening. Our centralized heating couldn't sufficiently produce heat on the second floor and most especially in our basement, and this is why we have portable heaters to those levels in our home. The one I use in our basement was a gift from our dear friend, Lea. Thank you, Miss Le!

#workinglate. @extrafunky made me a cup of coffee, and we shared a #bakeddonut. 😍😘 #listingsoon is a #vintage #ninaricci.

A post shared by Liliana oooh na na 😎 (@missnalupa) on Jan 27, 2018 at 7:46pm PST

It was 30 minutes past midnight when I got a phone call. I honestly thought the call was from my little sister in Australia. It's 4:30ish on a Sunday afternoon down under. She's the only person that would call at my ungodly hour.

But seeing the name of the caller on my phone screen came as a jolt!

((( IT'S THE MISTER!!! )))

"'lian, pwede dad-i ko ug tubig diri sa taas?" ('lian, can you bring up water for me?)

Wow! There is room service at home!?

Hehehe.

After I dropped the call, I got him water and brought it up immediately.

I knocked on our bedroom door, and slightly opened it.

"ROOM SERVICE!"

Then I slowly walked in, and there he was in bed under the cover, holding his newly bought book, Haruki Murakami's The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

Now that I know that there is room service at home, starting tomorrow night I'll make sure to go upstairs way ahead of the mister. Hehehe.

This is going to be a race from now on!

What?!

Monday dawn, maybe around 3 a.m., I felt the mister squeezing my hand. He kept doing it and didn't stop until...

"WHAT!?" I was really annoyed.

Sunday was really tiring. I went back to walking again after a couple of weeks. I also did a lot of work in the office particularly at the shipping department. I packed and labeled orders before I slept for the postman to pick up on Monday noon.

He squeezed my hand again!

"WHAT!?" Louder this time.

"Naa kay halin!" (You sold an item!), he said softly.

"Ganahan lang ko mahibaw ka!" (I just want you to know that!) He added.

I didn't hear my mobile phone when it said ((( KACHING! )))). That always means that I have an order at my shop.

He woke me up for that? I thought of getting even with the mister next time. I was really annoyed, but you know it made me get excited for work on Monday. A sale to a customer in New Zealand means a very good start of the week, and yes, so far, it's been awesome.