uno dos stress

in the movies, when someone wakes up from a nightmare's climax, they usually bolt up in bed screaming. never happened to me. usually i stay in the dream to find out what happens next but sometimes it would be so scary i'd have to wake myself up. and it's not even like when it's an extreme close-up of the eyes and they suddenly open up accompanied by a sound effect. nope, i simply slowly open my eyes.

anyways, when i woke up today, i didn't want to go to work. not that i hate my job (excluding that one guy, i love it). it's just that lately i've been feeling so stressed. sporadic headaches, abnormal crankiness, irritable bowel syndrome, and tired feeling even after enough sleep. i contemplated texting my team leader about not coming in. instead, i put on my glasses, got up and dragged myself to the bathroom. it used to be so easy use the big invisible book of excuses and skip work. but things have changed and i now earn the dough for my family. so yeah, screw my shitty sick shtick. off to the beehive i go.

but seriously, this stress thing is getting way worse than i can handle. so much that as a person who hates depending on medicine and doctors, im actually open to the idea of taking vitamins.

(the text above was typed on the blog post date but i was too stressed out that i never finished it. so now i am.)

as always, time with my beautiful family cured me. i remember a few weeks ago, jeean and iaine came to manila for my youngest sister's graduation lunch. when i came home from work that morning, i opened the door to a very happy iaine running towards me saying poppa. and that was it. that was all i needed. i had to man up and survive the stress week, go home and find solace in the sweet loving limbs of my wonderful wife and disarmingly cute daughter.

year two

for two years, you have endured my existence and forgave my shortcomings. i am a slob, a deviant and an occasional asshole, but you've put up with me every time. a medal forged from a meteor won't even suffice to represent how awesome you are. i love you, m'lady. for everything you've been/done/given to me, thinks.

it's not always rainbows and butterflies

here's a rundown of stuff that happened recently. why? because i own this blog and i could put pictures of booger sculptures if i wanted to. also, any incoherence will be deliberate. anyways, grab a sandwich. this might take a while. (the reading of the post, not the booger sculptures)

burn baby burn
i realized that the creation story regarding a god making humans out of clay and cooking them in an oven is probably true because the only explanation for this ridiculously hot summer is that we are being reheated. last monday, i woke up with itchy arms. i had rashes near my elbows. as far as i know, i have no allergies. what's weirder was that the rashes suddenly disappeared and migrated to my buttcheeks, then to my thighs. as a believer of mind over body, i endure the itch til the next day, which i did not know was scheduled as worst heartburn day. ive had mild gerd attacks for years that went away upon burps. this last one proved strong for not only did it repel my eructative abilities but rendered different pills useless. when eating became painful, i gave up. i took time off work and spent three days in a hospital, nursed by my wife and roused from sleep by nurses. on my last day there, they knocked me out with anesthesia and alien probed my insides. (looked like i swallowed a tiny wolverine on berserker barage) before that, my wife kept asking me if i was afraid. actually i was looking forward to it. i wanted to know what i would see during loss of consciousness. so when i was in the operating room and they were about to press a chlorofor-filled hanky on my face, i was like, this is it, im going to find out what coma patients dream of. which was nothing. something that tasted like piss was sprayed into my mouth and my eyes closed to blink, and then i opened them again and i was somewhere else. i had teleported to a garage. diagnosis: gastritis, esophagitis, hiatal hernia and urticaria. chocolates, spicy food, juices, softdrinks, beer and a bunch of others are categorized as should be consumed. went home almost immediately after the procedure and awaited the excuse for the botched rapture that some moron predicted and so many morons believed. there should be a rule that anyone who makes a prediction that doesn't happen gets pooped on by all skeptics. and anyone who believed the bullshit licks the poop off.

sweet child o' ours
there's so much to be said about our daughter, and yet none of it wont be enough. iaine is such a beautiful little girl. she's always smiling, always happy and it's infectious. she makes us all laugh with her tricks and random quirks. like when we were on the bed and i saw her clamp her lips shut as if she had eaten something. i grabbed her and tried to fish it out with my index finger but couldnt because iaine wouldnt open her mouth. so i told her to say "aah" and she just gave me the funniest half-opened mouth face. i just lost my wits there and found out that there really wasn't anything in there. i got pwned by my own daughter. the only time she starts a hissy fit is when her slumber's cut short. but even that doesnt last long. she'll be clingy and frowny for a while but then revert to good mood real quick. as with all kids, she'll blow a fuse when you take away from her something she wants but it won't last long or develop into an all-out hellspawned tantrum. i want to teach her early on that you can't always have everything you want. but what iaine is really, really good at is being sweet. this is the greatest reward of parenthood, of having a job, of giving love. i work my arse off to take the pig meat home. i try to get as much sleep as i can on weekeneds but can't because sometimes iaine would half-wake up in the middle of night and id have to give her milk to keep her calm. that and all of the many, many ordeals a new parent had to go through, reduced to microscopic size when compared to the overpowering warmth of iaine's sweetness, which i don't even know if she understands or not. the other day, she woke me up with a kiss on the cheek and then proceeded to do the same to her mother. and yesterday, my wife and i had a small argument downstairs and weren't in speaking terms when we lied on the bed upstairs. iaine was trying to get some sleep and probably noticed the silence so she took my hand then took her mother's hand and put them on top of each other. cue minitears. chibihime patched things up for us. on a totally unrelated note, how did abs-cbn get a way with titling their new series after the famous rock band? (answer: by using the same power of unoriginality that allowed gma7 to rip off yo gabba gabba)

marooned (and how was the sandwich btw?)
first foreign artist's concert i ever watched was vanilla ice in araneta coliseum when i was in grade school. second was bon jovi in rizal memorial sports complex in high school. and third was linkin park in ccp open grounds a few years ago. capping off my very long weekend is the much-anticipated maroon 5 concert, which i had filed a leave and bought tickets for about one month prior. this was primarily for my beloved love because even though im working 5 days a week and we have a child to take care of, i still wanted us to be able to spend time together like before we got married. of course, with the aforementioned factors and time constraints, we dont get to do it as much. a movie here, a dinner there. so i thought the maroon 5 show was a great rare moment date for us. plus it's actually her first concert experience. so we put off watching house episodes on bed and queued up with the marooners (i dont know if they're actually called that), bronze tickets in hand. we found a nice spot and camped there. when the lights went out and the drums pounded out, the awesome soundtrip began. the band sounds exactly the same live, which is always nice. jeean spent the whole hour and a half of pop rock music perched on the rails. inside the smx convention center, i noted three types of maroon 5 fans. the chill ones who went there for the music (where we belong); the uptights, who were there because they can afford a handful of vip tickets but dont really know the band so they just sit in their chairs waiting for freebies to be thrown their way; and the fantards who know every single word of every song and who'd sacrifice their vocal chords just to scream the name of the vocalist who cant even hear them. i admit, i merely downloaded the maroon 5 tracks but i really believe that the best way to support a band you like is to watch their concerts. and to jeean: "back and forth we sway like branches in a storm, change the weather still together when it ends." i love you very much. looking forward to more adventures our copycats will try to imitate but fail at miserably.

usually i'd type out a couple of sentences to signal the end of the blog post and wrap things up but


p.s. on the bus ride to manila, there was a family of four in front of me and when the bus conductor handed them their tickets, two of which were discounted, the father asked the conductor how much all of it was. the conductor said later because he had other people to attend to. to the model father of two, use your brain, asswipe.

my better half is best

i am blessed to have a spouse whose external beauty is only surpassed by her internal resplendence. i plucked her from the flower garden and planted her in nibelheim. she now has surrendered herself to the hivemind.

she has temporarily rainchecked her nightingaling for the sake of our beautiful offspring's growth and has taken on the mantle of a freelance creative desginer. my swan wife weaves her clients' dreams into printer-bound realities. her husband is so proud of her inimitable talents and grateful for her pecuniary assistance. the stork had chosen wisely.

gianina, my wonder woman, the universe envies the expanse of my love for you.

shiny graves for frozen slaves

save your brain cells. title's nonsense generated online. so let's cut the crap, slice the shit, fillet the feces and dice the doodie and get the turdball rolling for my random stuff commentary enumerated in japanese.

ichi: watched sucker punch with my sweet pea babydoll yesterday (and in the process of piecemealing a review) and there was a bunch of bozos bitchslapped to stultiloquence by the real-to-imaginary world switch. i hate these kind of people. why do they question the movie the moment they see something they cant comprehend? cant they automatically conclude that it may possibly be explained in subsequent scenes or at the end? or even if it's never explained, cant these morons just shut the hell up and watch the damn movie? i mean, seriously, i hope there was a way to keep these idiots from getting inside the theater, or at least the ones im in. (they can do all the shit as much as they want in theaters showing pinoy flicks) i dont see movies theatricaly that much but almost every time i do, there'll be these imbeciles ruining the whole experience for me. i hate all of these people who want the entire movie plot spoonfed to them 100% clear, who watch but dont see and hear but don't listen, who want all movies tailor-made to their satisfaction. they're like wet ugly baby birds in a nest chirping with their beaks open and the mother bird has to chew and spit their worms for them. they shouldn't be sold tickets to films that are beyond their mental capacity and, accordingly, shouldn't be allowed to rant about it in their reviews. if you're one of them, fuck you.

ni: the director of sucker punch, zack snyder, will also direct the new superman reboot and nearly every week a new cast member is announced. joining henry cavill (supes/clarky), kevin costner (jonathan kent) and diane lane (martha kent) is amy adams as lois lane. i like the first three, but amy adams as lois lane just ruffle my feathers, if you catch my drift. sure it's a smart decision to cast an oscar nominated actress in a role integral to the story but i strongly believe miss adams aint right for the part. lois lane is supposed to be tough, a woman with an attitude. she's this daring reporter who's not afraid to stick her nose where she shouldn't, just to get the scoop. that's why she's always getting herself into situations where superman's presence is required. so it is only makes sense to get an actress who looks the part in one look. margot kidder did well in the old movies and that chick from smallville was just awesome. but amy adams doesn't look tough. even if she had fangs. this lois lane looks like she'll need superman's help because she's stupid and weak. i'll trust your decision, snyder-man, but i really think queen gorgo, carla gugino and olivia wilde are better choices. 

san: after over a year of invisibility, ping "i have no balls" lacson has resurfaced, answering questions from the media insisting he did no wrong. except that hiding from justice is wrong. when you're a former cop and now a senator whom people voted to uphold the law, being a fugitive when you're accused of murder is very, very wrong. the issue here isn't his guilt or innocence or whether the prosecutors are after him. the issue here is that ping lacson is a coward. he's telling every filpino out there, especially the criminals-to-be, that hiding from the law is okay. he said he hid because he's innocent. but that's his word. even if there is no evidence against you and they're just ganging up on you to get you behind bars, isn't facing your accusers the manly way of dealing with this problem? is hiding really the way to prove your innocence? bullshit. who the fuck elected for this guy? so the thing is if someone decides to kill another one, he could simply say he's innocent, go into hiding and wait it all out? what a way to show the country what a law-abiding citizen you are, lacson. and you even had the gall to compare yourself to a prisoner? prisoners dont get to eat what they want, they dont sleep on comfortable beds, they dont get to chat with their families or surf the internet to pass time, they don't get to travel from country to country, and you have the nerve to align yourself with them? you bastard. i think the only thing that you and the prisoners have in common is getting your ass pounded because that's probably the only thing that got you through this "ordeal" of yours. fuck you. (and to those journalists who interviewed him but did not have the guts to ask the right questions, fuck you too.)

there are b-sides to every story

years ago, round the time when i only had one sibling, my father worked overseas. he'd mail us pictures of himself standing alone in the middle of the desert or sitting in his room, wearing a keffiyeh and sporting a badass beard and my mom would send him photographs of us with notes written on the back. and then, sometimes we'd be gathered in the living room, hunched over this silver casette player making voice recordings. though i have no distinct recollection of what childish crap i yapped about to my far-flung father (probably how we missed him, my shoe size and some toy i wanted to have), i do remember a particular portion of those recordings, the recurrent theme song of my parents that concluded our voice tapes:

 

anyways, to compare, if in the future i leave my family to work abroad, there'll be no hardcopy photos in the mail with scribbles in the back, we got facebook. and jeean wont have to subdue a hyperactive iaine just to record her wishlist, we got skype. still, the mere thought living several time zones apart from my two beloveds is an immediate ticket to boohooville. acclimating to different area codes was hard but i managed it because there's text and that comforting knowledge of being able to scurry home in a dozen jiffies. to actually spend a year or two in another country without getting to hug my wife or play with my daughter is gonna be quite an ordeal. i extremely hope that it never comes to that.

p.s. as of this typing, hitgirl is still battling cold and fever. give the cute little baby girl a break, will ya?

p.p.s. and my best friend, jeean, is dueling with stress. cut the gorgeous sexy woman some slack, will ya?

...and i'm back (to blogging/working)

hmm just before i sat to type, i had a couple of excuses sentences constructed in my idea factory explaining why the blog was in limbo for three-months but i decided not to put them here for the same reasons that the blog was in limbo for three-months.

anyways, if you watch futurama then get prof. farnsworth's voice in your head because i'm about to say: "good news, everyone!" im a bum father no more! well, im a long way from buying my daughter dollhouses and ponies but i just landed a job as a transcriber for a research/software company and it's really great. ive worked for many companies that declared their employees were their assets and they valued their workforce but those words have never been true until now. i refuse to go into details but let's just say that the perks definitely perk you up.

the downside of it all is that five days a week, im far from iaine and jeean. it's impossible not to miss my wonderchild and loving wifi. skype helped but even if it ever gets the 3d upgrade, it can never equate with the bliss of actually being there with them. treading new environment and making new friends was fun but i kept counting the hours that always seemed to stretch further every time i checked the time.

when i got home this morning, i came upon a sleepy iaine who beamed up at the sight of me. i carried her and she gave me a where-have-you-been look. the super spouse arrived shortly and i was happy to be surrounded by love. iaine and jeean are the two defibrillator paddles to my work-worn heart.

i listen to the art of war during my office-bound commuting and sun tzu said: "do not interfere with an army that is returning home" because a man whose heart is set on returning home will fight to the death against any attempt to bar his way and is therefore too dangerous an opponent to be tackled.

clear!


p.s. the awesomous wifus is also undergoing training of her own. what has two thumbs and is very proud of his nurse wife? this guy.
p.p.s. ...and i'm 30 years old.

parental guidance

chronicling iaine's growth in a full-length indie film called life.

one

what: most. kickass. wedding. ever.
where: basilica church + pastoral center, ciudad de balisong
when: august 1, 2009
who: jaiskizzy (the groom), jeeanfoxy (the bride), families, friends, unknowns
why: love.


800am: i wake up, put on outdoor clothes and sleepwalk to the nearest salon to have my much-anticipated (by everyone but me) haircut. it is still closed so i saunter off next door to my mother-side relatives' hangout spot and play with the kids for a while.
900am: i am inside the salon, sitting on a hydraulic chair, waiting for my turn. arianne the hairdresser is doing his magic (literally) on an old woman while some people are negotiating the price of his services and gown rental. some girl will be joining a beauty pageant in some faraway farmland's fiesta and her companions want her to look outrageously beautiful. i think what they need is a miracle. the girl is fat, fugly and bats are probably living in her nostrils. plus her supposed escort is a zombie. i silently thank the invisible unicorn king for the self-esteem boost.
1000am: my past-shoulder-length hair is being mowed down. with my spectacles off, the horrifying image of my decreasing mane is blurred on the mirror. but even so, i remember the big prom night scene in carrie and kinda feel the same way, minus the blood. at least samson was asleep when this happened to him.

1100am: i am back home, showering. bathroom floor is covered in bubbles because, forced by habit, i used the amount of shampoo i use for my late long hair on my new hair. as always, bathroom time is think time and several random thoughts fire up in my brain like popcorn: the tedious preparations are finally over, im leaving bachelorhood for good, cant wait to see what my bride looks like, what's gonna happen, et cetera.
1200pm: i am driving towards the ponte fino, wearing a hooded shirt to hide my haircut until the big reveal. jeean and i text and call each other occasionally to prevent any path-crossings. as i am about to turn right at don ramos, i realize i've forgotten the red bandana i need for our first dance. i head back home and find out that jeean's bridal car (c/o of papang) has arrived. we've been told it would be the cefiro, anything was okay with us actually, but im looking at the one we had wished for secretly. i retrieve the bandana and keep the surprise to myself.
100pm: i am at the hotel lobby, gradually attaining complete ennui. only one room is currently available and jeean is in there having herself made up. two more rooms will be vacant soon and i sulk in a lounge chair, watching a kid waste dslr specs on a bland table ornament. my friends from manila arrive but because i have no room to put them in and i am prohibited to leave the premises, i send them off to sm batangas to have lunch and murder a few minutes.
200pm: six men in a hotel room and it's not a stag party: me, pol, randell and a camera crew determined to get me posing. after late lunching on adobo, rice and jolly hotdog, the guy who has only one pair of shoes for everyday use metamorphoses into a long-suited, clean-shaven gentleman, at least externally; the photography session ends up with me jumping on the bed. the tailor-made suit set feels good on me not only because it's exactly the way i wanted it to be, it's like my golden fleece. i'm 11 times cooler just by wearing it.
300pm: it's raining and everybody's scrambling to the church. i jump into the family car and lose my chance of having any physical contact with the awesome bridal car. when we arrive at the church, a crowd of kids and adults in wedding attire is just beginning to bunch up near the entrance. people expecting my jesus christ look are shocked at my new guise and my favorite baby niece who cries when i leave doesn't even recognize me. i look at the aisle and see the first few meters of the new journey of my life.
400pm: i am at the other end of the aisle and all our eyes are on the entrance doors. this is my cad goddeu. from a badass-looking hummer, an angel has appeared to bless us with her heavenly beauty. ive been an agnostic ever since catholic school but this is one of those very rare moments were i question my non-belief and reconsider god's existence because only that powerful guy on the ultradistant second floor could create such a being of endless wonderment. gianina, my fulcrum, my utopia, my perfect bride. i feel weird, like im in a movie and this is the part where everything is in slow-mo. i am goosebumping all over. my mother-in-law-to-be's tears are contagious. my beloved and i stand before the altar and the riddle of love is finally solved.

500pm: there was a blog post i never finished about how life was a long road and that during our trip, we meet people who walk with us or run with us, sometimes carry us, overtake us, until we all arrive, though at different times, at the one destination we're all headed. jeean and i aren't ready to go home just yet. hands together, we've taken a detour to a road we've never been to before and even if we've been told that this particular path won't be easy to take, but im sure we'll get through it just fine. the i do's have been traded, the bands worn, the kiss displayed.


9 post-wedding highlights:
1. mafia-inspire entourage came into the reception venue in associative music. when it was our turn, my bride sang "if i ain't got you" by alicia keys. some had to be told that it was live.
2. instead of the bouquet, a bunch of roses were thrown at the "hopefuls" and the one without a flower in her hands was the lucky lady to wear the garter.
3. the much-awaited "rock baby rock" clan dance brought the house down, especially with my bride's parents joined in
4. the downed house was crumbled to dust when our supposedly traditional first dance turned into a dance medley of sorts (with a quick hayden-katrina thingy squeezed in), thanks to one hour of perspiration-filled practice of steps aided by youtube.
5. the photobooth didn't get any rest.
6. my father got us all worried when word broke out about his missing wallet, which he found in the pair of pants he left at home.
7. jeean and i came home to falling money and confetti, which became garnish to the kalamay we had to eat.
8. we counted the cash we collected and was quite pleased with the sum (but not thoroughly as we had to turn everything over to my mom for safekeeping).
9. there was a lot of back-and-forth walking in the ponte fino hallway because our immediate families were shacked in five rooms and everyone was in no hurry to slumber. after one tiresome month of preparations and one exciting day of wedding, my wife and i finally get the relaxation we've long longed for.

i could not have wished for a better way to get married or a better woman to get married to. i am a man, i am in love, and goshdarnit, i am very, very happy. very.

up next: parenthood.

better/worse-richer/poorer-sickness/health-death

awakening

every day when i wake up, in the morning or in the afternoon, by myself or roused by external forces, the voices in my head scream in unison in welcoming another day. no matter how bad the previous was, the mere ability to open my eyes and be alive is reason enough to thank the flying spaghetti monster for negotiating my citizenship with sandman and not allowing me to be a permanent resident of somnopolis. there, i could fly, see events unfold in the third person p.o.v. and play tag with nikola tesla in a minefield but i would never trade my real life for subconscious liberties. even more now that i have better things to look forward to post-slumber.

about a month from now, i will start a new life waking up beside the most beautiful woman in time and space. i met her online as jeeanfoxy and i couldnt have helped myself from loving her. since then she's been love to me and a new chapter in our epic love story is just about to begin. on august one, at 4pm, i will be marrying the last piece of my puzzle. the beautiful victory, the elegant ninja, the goddess of all things cute and sexy named ma. gianina sigrid m. muñoz will glide down the aisle and prefix forever with a two-worded, three-lettered sentence. she, my rita hayworth. my life was a prison beyond redemption and she was my escape. she is my charger, my phoenix down, my cosmic cube, my muse incarnate. i was wile e. coyote and she was roadrunner, i get blown into smithereens but she was always worth chasing. now i've captured her. but dont let the pig loose from the pen just yet because that is not all, folks.

sometime in february next year, i will wake up to the living breathing crying laughing smiling peeing pooping proof of our love: our baby, the first of many, the best parts of our dna combined. right now, our child is as small as a peanut, swimming within my wife's wonderful womb. but pretty soon, the kid will be running around and talking and breaking stuff and making us proud. one thing i could guarantee is that child will be loved by the coolest parents ever.

if there is indeed such a thing as karma, then this is probably some sort of reverse karma where i get my humongous load of blessings in advance and im supposed to do something good and big in the future because i dont think ive ever done anything worth all of this. that or i am just one goddarn lucky man...

yep. very lucky indeed.

p.s. theres just too plenty of people to thank for the ongoing preparatory craziness and they dont read my blog anyways so i'll save the acknowledgements for my reception speech where i could tell it to their faces. speaking of faces...

p.p.s. in yo' face, scotteeeeehhh!!!

happy first anniversary, last woman in my life.

jeej,

try as i may, i can not surpass the awesomeness of your post. but what im thinking of right now is this: tomorrow would be a nice day for someone to ask me that question ive always hated being asked because i found it hard to answer until now.

the question: where do you see yourself 15 years from now?

my answer: with jeean, greeting her "happy 16th love anniversary!"

i love you, love. more often than always and longer than forever.

yours only,
jaj.

the spark never dies.

love. freedom. happiness.

like most, for a big part of my life, i hated monday. granted that it is not its fault to be situated at such a bad spot but when you've been partying, sleeping late, waking up after noon, playing video games, watching movies or just wasting the day away being as lazy as you can, it's pretty hard not to feel animosity towards the particular day that thrusts you back to world beyond your own and starts a new cycle of work/school where time never really is yours. monday was the day i always wished would never come.

but not anymore.

i found love and found a reason to love monday. work begins on tuesday for me and right after my shift on saturday, i lug my bagful homeward, craving for the much needed weekend rest. instead of dreading its arrival, i can hardly wait for monday to come around because for some reason, it has become the day that my girlfriend and i have for ourselves. sometimes, we get to see each other on saturdays and sundays, but it is only on a monday when we really are together. we do not love each other less on any other day of the week, but on monday, we are one.

march 30, 2009 was a monday. at 4am i was sitting on an orange chair on the bus station, waiting for her, without any indication of the great day ahead of us. with barely enough sleep, i cradled her in my arms as she slumbered on and off through the trip. i did not notice what was playing on the bus tv or radio, only her shivers, goosebumps, slight body spasms and baby-calm breathing. every time she'd take over my lap for a nap, i'd feel the surrender of her weight the moment she succumbed to the sandman.

we found our destination but had to kill time so we ate and played scrabble. i am so in love with this woman who is okay with killing time by playing psp and not talking about stuff we could talk about some other time when we don't have to kill it. when she told her friends about us, she blushed and i swooned. the main purpose of the journey took a while and spent a long time between vans laughing at tambourines and farts. i love the way she perspires. the sweat doesn't bead or drip on her skin. it simply glistens. we were somewhere near quiapo and i had an image in my head of those people touching and wiping the nazareno as i did the same to her. i worship her. she wouldn't let me carry her bag no matter how i insist. i find it cute how she evades my cheek attacks. there is about two hours worth of chronicling that i have to skip so let's just say it feels so awesome to be her guy and that she cant go into the nbi office because smoking is not allowed there. we held hands when we walked and even when we ran to catch the bus.

late in the afternoon, i took her to my aunts and introduced her to everybody there. they talked to her. my mom had ignored the others even when they talked to her, but my mom talked to her. for the first time, my mother initiated a conversation with my girlfriend. wow⁹⁹. i lured an ill-tempered jaja with my psp to her and an inspiring memory was made. i never thought mondays could be that great. i may not be religious but that monday was a miracle. i wished it not to end and although it did, i know that with the recent developments in our lives, there are more, better mondays, as well as tuesdays, wednesdays, thursdays, fridays, saturdays and sundays to look forward to.

thank you, kitten.

p.s.