the price of neglect

Responsible pet ownership won the battle between staying in bed a bit more and getting Tara to the vet today.

It was already past nine yet Tara was the first patient to arrive. The good doctor's daughter manned the reception (I assumed daughter s like the seniors, she spoke in broken tagalog and ilonggo as well).

The drive to Hinigaran was long and hot, we had to take Tara's temperature twice to get the correct stats. Upon inspection, it was apparent that the cause of Tara's skin condition is invisible to the eye, so the vet prepared a slide of skin scrapings from tara's leisions. A section on her right flank was cleared of fur and a small sample was taken using a sharp scalpe. It bled a bit. Not that Tara minded. I reckon she felt more discomfort from the string that bound her snout rather than the skin rendered raw by the blade.

The lighting in the room wasn't good, it's no wonder the vet had a hard time looking for the culprit. When she finally did, she excitedly motioned me to have a look. In the middle of the glowing slide was the circular figure that looked exactly as the picture of the Sarcoptic mite posted on the lab wall. No wonder, no amount of scratching seemed to ease the poor thing's itching. The pest burrows unders the skin and just imagine the discomfort that it caused.

Tara was given two shots for the two types of mites and take home meds like cotrimoxazole to ease the itching, stearasone as antibacterial for the leisions (after washing with iodophor) and omega 3 supplement for the coat.

and i thought i was invincible...

I was wrong. As a result of braving the rains for a lot of petty reasons like feeding Cuchi or mending the awning of the chewed off dog house, I ended up having this nasty cold.

It started last Wednesday. The runny nose I don't mind but the headache when I sneeze or stoop to pick something up, that was unbearable.

I couldn't begin to thank for the long weekend. Sleep was foremost on the list followed by cooking my favorites even when saltiness is the only taste that could be distinguished by my impaired sense of taste and reading Yann Martel's Beatrice and Virgil in between sleep.

Today, I prepared "dinuguan" and "tambo". Scheduled for tomorrow is pork-vegie rolls in wonton.

Today's the second time I've been to Hda. Paz. It's the hacienda nearest to the village where I hold MS Office tutorials on Sundays. Like last week, I was again late; not because I have been to Bacolod but because sleeping after lunch was so difficult to resist after minding the painters all morning. The catch is, when I finally decided to rouse, my student's hubby has already left I had to commute.

The trip took me three rides in all: from the house to the village entrance, from the village to the hacienda crossing. Waiting for a ride was something. Tricycles going to my destination were scarce I had to take CAC-bound one and alight at the crossing. From there I waited in vain until a truck came by. Without batting an eyelash, I spoke to the riders about needing a lift.

Wow! How long has it been? It must have been 25 kg ago. I had to solicit the assistance of the kid aboard to help me hoist myself up the truck which tire diameter must have measure 5ft.

RAMDIZ singers...

The last local concert I've been to was when Bamboo performed last in the Tanduay First Five concert. That was ages ago.

I was in for a surprise upon discovery that last Monday's dinner invitation involves a mini-concert.
One of the prominent Dizon scions, Bro. Rolly, known for his contribution in the areas of education and culture, organized the party in celebration of the 4th anniversary of the Ramos-Dizon Museum along Burgos St. in Bacolod.

The guests were entertained by the RAMDIZ singers (composed of kids aged 10-14 from schools around bacolod and murcia) with a diverse repertoire starting from patriotic songs to current pop numbers.

The young singers showed a lot of potential. They all sung in their natural voices (no apparent modulation was detected) which promised a lot of power and versatility that only comes with training.

After a long day listening to the serious implication of the K-12 implementation to existing TVIs, audience with TESDA DDg, RD and PD, it is only fitting to indulge in good food and enjoyable music.

Adeline Yen Mah's "Chinese Cinderella"

Two full days away from work is a rare occurence. I had that this weekend. What better way to spend it than curl up in bed and read a good book.
Breakfast at bff yesterday acquainted me with adeline yen mah's chinese cinderella. The book was sitting atop the television (showing eclipse) and was meant to be an assignment reading to the resident colegiala who was only too glad to have her reading postponed for a week.
while my housemate monopolized the television watching two people punch each other senseless for thirty minutes or so, I popped some corn and brewed six cups of coffee to tide me through in the next three or four hours.

Just a few pages from the cover and my heart was already ripped in two. The poor child, blamed for the death of her mother. Who forced them (the parents) anyways to make a baby in the first place?

Page after page, I quelled the tears that threatened to flood. Oh to be young and so alone. Imagine your name or birthday to be forgotten by your own father. Imagine being hit for an entirely insane reason of keeping faces. The nerve of the stepmother to sermon on austerity when she splurged on every little thing. She was the devil personified.

The harrowing accounts could have destroyed a person of lesser courage. Adeline could have killed the woman in rage or she could have gone mad. Yet, she chose to look on the brighter side of things, hold on to the people (her grandfather and aunt) who hold her dear and worked very hard to make her only dream come true, make her dad proud.

Acquaintance 2011 at BAMR

on the way to get an after lunch milky coffee across the bridge