Chess and DD-*ouch*-R

Originally posted Aug 30, 2005

A brief entry to share my good weekend with you.

But first, a news flash from the Philippines.

Dateline: Metro Manila ------ dee-de-dee-dit-dee-de-dit.

My sweetie wrote an email, asking if I missed her.

*sniff*

Then I received a letter in the mail from Elena Marie S. Auclair, the Philippines, written inside was the one word, in carefully drawn letters: "Papa" and a composition in crayon and pencil of some modern abstract artwork.

(pause here to wipe tears away with tissue paper)

Diane informs me that Isabel is now becoming quite the chatterbox, and, oh, joy! she sent some pictures, both of the girls, both being very cute: Elena Marie is hiding under a multicolored umbrella in her pastel dress; frollicking about in front of the flooded street, demanding that she not get wet. You all know how that turns out, don't you? (My little Elena Marie: the only girl I've observed who goes out of her way to splash through puddles.)

In the other picture Isabel is supposed to be lying down to take a nap with her elder sister. But, as she knows that her mother is about to snap off a photo, she is peeking out, gleefully checking to see if Diane has taken the shot yet. She did. I wonder if li'l Iz checked to see how cute-cute she looked in the photo.

----- Back to da USSR -- uh, I meant, U.S. America.

It was a dark and stormy weekend; cold and dreary ... and, being from New England, that meant it was totally perfect weather for me. Unfortunately, it apparently suited only myself and 35 or so others: I went to an Amway meeting/picnic in West Virginia, about 100 miles from home. Usually these gatherings have over 200 people, so Mike (Malovic), the sponsor, told me: "Well, only the hard-core faithful show up when the weather turns bad."

Bad? Bad? It was perfect weather: it honestly felt like the temperature dipped to the high 40s!

Perfect, that is, for playing chess!

HA!

insert here the Austin Powers, international man of mystery, montage of him and the Russian supermodel, Ivana Humphalat, doing the square off:

IH: "Do you know what we do in Russia to keep warm?"
AP: "I can make a pretty good guess..."
IH: "We play chess!"
AP: "I would've guessed wrong, then."

It's now a well-established tradition that I bring my chess board, set it up, and crush all comers. And they love it.

The first three games I played "little" Joey, who is now 17 years of age and towers above most of us at 6'4". Apparently he's been studying chess under a tutor.

• Game 1: Doug white; Joey black. He really should have won this game. In a bad exchange, I lost the bishop and knight for a knight and a pawn -- and didn't realize this until, in the midst of backpeddling, I looked up from the board to see the damage. But, he committed a blunder in the mid-to-endgame transition that had him a rook down in the exchange. Perhaps he was a bit too impetuous in his eagerness to close out his win.


• Game 2: Doug black; Joey white. Black is my colour -- it allows me to play the Sicilian (especially, the Dragon variation) defence, know as very fast, very aggressive defence to take with black. So, he also plays aggressive chess. Really the best counter to that attack is a really, really strong defence. So, when I saw him setting up a really strong attack I switched from the Dragon to a variation of the 'hedgehog': yes -- very tight, low, defensive position. The advantage of the hedgehog (pawns basically advance only once, not the faster two-space advance) is that it requires the opponent to play very carefully -- an all-out attack by the opponent creates a huge vacuum around his own defences and leaves his attacking pieces very vunerable.
  
  Sadly for Joey, he marched right into my line at flank speed: all his pawns were pushed forward as far as possible, and, his queen was leading the charge. Well, I "opened" up my king to a check, and his queen did not avoid that temptation. When my bishop covered the king, threatening his queen in the process, his queen had nowhere to go: his pawns were blocking his retreat, and the only other option was to "exchange" his queen for a pawn or the bishop. It dissolved quickly into the endgame; which I was hopeless at before, but I managed to pull off a win anyway.


• Game 3: Doug black; Joey white -- we played one more, but I think he was tired, and unaccustomed to my style of play, for he folded under my attack without much fuss. He remarked a couple of times that I played a defensive game: I guess he was used to playing against other players who played aggressively. Papa, would you have ever thought it possible that someone would call my play "defensive"?

Joey also remarked that he would've liked to play against me with the clock, saying that the really stong players can play fast games well. I agree with him: I played slower because I'm not a very good player. I need that extra time to think through and to see the moves and countermoves that other players, better players, would see right away.

The next three games were played against my usual opponent, Stacy (sp?). I give him my knights in handicap, and it is a continual source of amazement to him that I beat him (and that I review the game move-by-move from memory). Nothing much to report from these games:

• He did win the first game because, playing at such a handicap, one must play very aggressively to overcome the disadvantage: in my haste I left my queen unprotected, which he took with his queen, checking me. I resigned right there.
  
  Stacy: "No, man, make a move!"
  Me: "That [the resignation (I tipped my king)] is the only move possible."



• The second game, he set up the "mate in four" trap which I ignored, but playing reasonably, one can work one's way out of that trap. Easy win.



• The third game, the party was winding down, and Pinky watched the final moves.
  
  Stacy: "Only two moves to [my] mate"
  Pinky: "Know what they are?"
  Stacy: "Yes"
  Pinky: "Then play them."
  
  We all laughed at that. But Stacy did rally, checking me a few times and then wiggling his king out of immediate mate to prolong the game for another 10 moves or so. Good play there for Stacy. He made the win sweet; so, when I put my head into my hands, Pinky thought it was a reversal and started to console me.

During our games, Michael (Edmonson) (yes, there are three people in this email whose given name is 'Michael' ... popular name, that) approached and warned my opponent about me. He thought for a moment and then said: "I should have you play my brother; he thinks he's all that in chess." When I informed Michael that I wasn't very good at chess, he spewed out his beverage in his laughter.

But it's true: chess is such a dynamic, demanding game! One can build up a strong, solid win and blunder it away in an instant. Influence of a move echos all over the board in the strangest of ways. Computers can now assist in analyzing games, but even Deep Blue shouldn't have won most of its games against Kasparov -- chess is still mysterious enough to defy plodding analysis. Mike (Wuerthele) watching that very thing happen in one of my games against Papa, exclaimed: "Well, Doug, you just managed to snatch defeat out of the jaws of victory!" My game is Go (http://www.usgo.org/index.asp), but this not being Korea, it's not easy to find opponents here.

By that time, only Stacy's family and I were there with Mike and Pinky to clean up, so we all had a little time, some special time, to be together. I'm sorry so many others missed this opportunity; and I'm glad I got some time to be with people I admire.

-----

Sunday, after the round trip to and from West Virginia, I was going to work at the office, but my engine wasn't turning over, so there was nothing for it than to kick start it with Dance-Dance Revolution.

Three solid hours of Dance-Dance Revolution.

Three solid hours of Dance-Dance Revolution on the hard setting.

um ... ouch. My legs are still feeling it, even now, but it was very good, 'cause I finally completed those two songs that I haven't been able to touch (ya know that one, Mike, that sounds like a heart-monitor that you "love" so much. One time, Mike was over, working on the computers as I was dancing that song, "Healing Vision: Angelic Remix" (see http://www.cotilliongroup.com/code/ddr-song-sep.html): he stormed out of the office and demanded, "What the h*ll is that cr*p?" Yeah, he "loves" that song.)

I only have one song, DXY! by TaQ (the song I scornfully dismissed as a "jumping jack" song in my review), that I've only so far managed to work two-thirds of the way through, but, now that I've completed all the other songs, some of which I was very sure I'd never become skillful enough to complete, I now know that it's just a matter of time: I'll become better, and this song shall fall, too.

Then, Mass at St. Anthony's, and then supper at "Cafe Saigon" (surprisingly, a very good /Cantonese/ place). And then I received Diane's email with photos that I mentioned above. Excuse me; I've got to go now and look for my hanky.

But not before one more family Chautauqua (http://www.virtualschool.edu/mon/Quality/PirsigZen/part1.html): when I'm available, meaning, when I'm not at work, or when I'm not in a dead sleep having returned from work, Diane and I talk on the phone 9:30ish in the (Philippine) morning (9:30 pm here).

What I love about Diane (yes, of course I love everything about Diane, that's tautological, now, isn't it) is her absolute joy in the moment: she's having a great time in the Philippines, visiting her friends, taking Elena Marie to Ballet and art class, playing badminton with Papa, and, when I'm talking with her, she's having a great time relating stories to me of the goings-on there, she's enjoying playing with the kids, and she's loving missing me, scolding me for not eating enough (I /AM/ eating enough, thank you very much, it's just that most people eat too much, so I suffer in the comparison), and putting the kids on the phone to talk with "Pahhhhpaaahhh!"

Isabel is supposedly talking more, but on the phone with me, when she hears my voice, she only has one word, whispered reverentially: "Paaahhhhpaaaaaa".

Diane: "Say 'Papu' [an affectionate term for 'grandfather']"
Li'l Iz: "Paaaaaahhhhhpaaaaahhh"
Diane: "Say 'hello' to Papa"
Li'l Iz: "Paaaaaaaappaaaaahhhh"
Diane: "Say 'goodbye' to Papa na, and give me the phone"
Li'l Iz, having nothing of that at all, whining: "Papa?"

When Diane finally pries the phone away from the tyke, the fallout is rather voluminous, and, I don't need to add, rather heartbreaking for someone in the New World.

It appears that Elena Marie is also missing her Papa. The night before I was leaving the Philippines, I was in the communal bedroom, and was going to excuse myself to get some water.

Elena Marie: "Papa, don't leave."
Me: "Sweetie, I'm just going to get some water; I'll be right back."

Diane then explained to me that Elena Marie meant that she didn't want me to leave tomorrow for the States.

*ouch*

So, when I was talking with the kiddo on the phone, the following transpired.

Elena Marie: "Papa, when are you coming back?"

*ouch*

Me: "It's now the end of August, Elena Marie, and I'll be back September 15th. Ask Mama to show you September 15th on the calendar, okay?

EM: "Okay. ... Papa, you come back now, okay?"

Um, yes, well, there is that.

*sigh* How many days, again, until September 15th ... that is, besides an eternity?

Congratulations to Claudia and "Aldrin"

Originally posted Sep 4, 2005

Okay, so, I went to a wedding this morning, and it was beautiful -- the groom's family, "Aldrin" (hoy, JinJin, who is this "Aldrin" guy?) the San Pedro's, are family through Diane, numerous, and every last one of them could be on the cover of Vogue. Claudia and her family are from Brazil -- I know of Brazilians, before I met Claudia, only from my exposure to them when I was visiting a friend in Miami Beach. While walking the boardwalks I observed these golden-skinned kings walking, no, not walking, striding, almost DANCING, they walked so beautifully. I couldn't see the women walking beside the men, because they were so beautiful I was blinded.

My friend informed me that these demigods were visiting from Brazil.

Claudia and her family are Brazilian, did I mention that?

The priest was Fr. Jaffe: young man, good, clear, strong voice. JinJin and Claudia were married in St. Peter's Cathedral in downtown DC -- my mansion in Springfield would buy a bathroom in one of the townhomes that towered over the cozy streets. So the town and the church were not hard on the eyes. As the Fr. Jaffe boomed out the consecration, I thought, "Hmmmm, he seems familiar..." which was immediately confirmed when he stumbled over the name of the bishop: "We pray for our bishop, Paul, *cough*, um, Theodore." Aha! Cardinal Theodore McCarrick is the Archbishop of Washington, D.C.; Bishop Paul Loverde (he came from Connecticut) is our (Arlington Diocese) pastor. I felt right at home, then.

Off to the reception. The wedding was in SouthEast DC, the reception was in NorthWest DC, at Maggiano's in Friendship Heights. Do you know what that means? It means that I could have taken the beltway and travelled to Philadelphia faster than cutting through town ... so I took the "short-cut" through town. Fortunately, it was through embassy row, which also happens to be church/synagogue/mosque row. Very nice drive, but a little confusing for me, because sometimes the churchs looked like embassies, and, since there were so many of both, with their identification in base relief, one could get into an accident trying to read "St. Athuxuah R C Church", crossing oneself and saying "hi!" to Jesus as the car ahead of one stops to make an unsignalled left or right turn. Good thing I was not involved in playing out that scenario to its fender-bendering conclusion.

On the way to the reception, I stopped to get gas and get some yuppie food stamps, and looking around I observed I parked right next to the "Joy of Motion" studio, where Diane, before she had our li'l tykes, would go 2 times a week to dance flamenco with the best of them (Her teacher asked her, in all seriousness, "Are you part gypsy?" ... her teacher speaks some Romani, I'm given to understand). I soaked in the memories of this place: Diane, putting on her castanets and shoes and practicing and then teaching me the first steps.

Then, I passed by the movie theatre where I watched such jems as /32 Short Films about Glenn Gould/: an odd, quirky, film befittingly commemorating the man. It was a place to go to watch a film other than something like, say, /Transporter 2/ or /Star Wars, Episode XXVIILCMWQX/, but, not any more -- now the windows are boarded up and the posters behind the glass displays are faded and in tatters. It seems the world is not very accomodating to the offbeat or the fringe. Which got me to thinking: is there a place for me? A niche? Or, when the world stops to notice me, will it crush me under its heel like this movie theatre I am lamenting? Thinking further, it seems, like a blade of grass, it is the low-lying ones that are ignored, but the blade that stands up is cut back. The world notices stand outs, like Glenn Gould or, in a different category, Jesus, to destroy them, and it seems that the present generation (whichever generation that is) turns away from paths illuminated by their very own bright ones. Dark thoughts for one coming from a sweet, beautiful, wedding and going to a happy reception, on a perfect day ... maybe it's my Noregian Bachelor Farmer coming to the fore.

But then this sadness passes like grey New England clouds (okay, ... bad analogy), little children gleefully cavorting around their parents show the obvious answer to my unanswered question: the hope of this generation is the next one. The sourness of the old fogeys is bulldozed over by the unstoppable happiness of the toddler prancing about ... bulldozed, and then, transformed into joy. Look at a tired grandparent when a child rushed into their arms for a hug: they may have more years than anyone else in the room, but the glow coming from their eyes gives them a youthful energy, shedding off the years of world concern to enter into the delight of this moment.

These families are very child-friendly, too, so, when little Katchia, all of 13 months, nibbled her cheerios or danced about while we pushed about our main courses [I shouldn't have eaten so much of the calamari appetizer, but I couldn't resist -- shame on me because each of the 4 main courses were not to be missed] she had at least 4 aunties at a time, from both sides of the family, cooing over her. I asked Natalie if I could have little Katchia, ya know, to keep, but Natalie seemed unwilling to give up her precious jewel.

The best man was JinJin's brother, "Carlos" who gave a near-tearful toast (Lito, who is the "Carlos" person?) -- Every last San Pedro were so happy to be accepting Claudia into their family, and Lito, I mean, "Carlos", stood up and thanked God for her marrying, um, "Aldrin". Just like all the Auclairs breathed a very big sigh of thanks when Diane said "I do" (they were all holding their breath, because the out-rush of air caused the air-conditioner to kick in unexpectedly -- as a side note, when a "significant other" is brought to an Auclair family gathering, they are usually given the grilling by all 78 present, in the general vein of "Who are you to be invading our clan?" -- in Diane's case, she was taken aside so that she could be warned ... about me ... uh, thanks, everybody).

Then, we found out how the newly married couple met: the Maid of Honour, Carla, Claudia's cousin, shared how she's worked with JinJin for some time before Claudia came to this country, showed him a not-so-good picture of her (now, come off it, HOW is that POSSIBLE?), and that JinJin was NOT impressed (maybe he needs some serious eye surgery, or a fastball to the noggin?), but Carla persisted. She knew, as written in "Sleepless in Seattle", that they were MFEO ("Made For Each Other"). She arranged a double-blind dinner date, and the rest, as they say, is now in Maui.

-----

Just some nice finishes: I sat at a table with Alfa and three of her cousins. I absolutely had to tell everyone the story. Alfa arranged our marriage. She met Diane and me when set was all of 12 years (Alfa, gets mo ba?) visiting from the Philippines at a San Pedro soirée. When she returned home she immediately told her family (you know that everyone is related in the Philippines, right?) about that 'Kano dating Diane.

Now, we weren't engaged yet, and, the kicker, Diane's mother hadn't heard that Diane was seeing anyone. So, needless to say, Diane's aunt (that is, Mama's sister), was waiting for us on the front porch after the party.

Did I mention that everyone's related in the Philippines?

Did I mention that news travels around the world faster than one can drive a car home?

... So that was one group sitting at our table. The other half of the table was Papa, JinJin's best friend, from "Ghana" (JinJin thought Papa was from Ghana; Papa is actually from Gambia), and Amanatu from "Nigera" (Belle, JinJin's cousin, thought she was from Nigera) ... it turns out, on these mistakes, that Papa and Amanatu met and sat at the Gambia table (I offered that this table name was JinJin's apology and correct for that mistake of many years). Papa started talking about the food of Gambia, saying that the stews are unparalleled. So I called him on it: "So, when are you cooking for us, then?" which turned into an invitation after we return from the
Philippines along with the other couple at the table: Geoff (from the Philippines) and Danielle (and /Italian/ Italian). Geoff told me that since my grandmother is Italian, I could obtain dual Italian citizenship. Danielle later corrected this: Italian ancestry must come through the Mother.

... *sigh* So close!

I told Geoff that I use his name (actually a variant, "Geophf") as my on-line call-sign and we hit it right off: it turns out that Danielle is quite the card-player, and Geoff is a rated chess player, so we talked about card games and favorite openings and defences in chess.

... so, it'll be an interesting stew get-together!

-----

While we talked, this being a Nobre-San Pedro wedding, the dance floor was a happening place. Jeff, Ditas' hubby, just threw himself around the dance floor. There was not one woman who didn't get asked to dance along with him. A few were actually strong enough to keep up. One woman, Ate Karin, smirked throught the raw display. It was his statement: "Style? *Pshaw*!"

But, her next partner, Tito Mena, was the graceful display of elegance: every move subtle, controlled, yet absolutely in perfect flow. At the first few steps under his authoritative hand, her eyes lit up with shock that quickly relaxed into pleasure. I could read the flash of her thoughts: "Ah, a man who knows how to dance and who takes the lead. *sigh* How delightful!"

-----

As I left the party to come here to work, I observed I was parked next to rather nice company: a jet-black Rolls Royce convertable graced the spot next to my little mazda. Then, heading out of the parking lot, I passed by the restaurant "Bam Bulé" where Diane and I attended the wedding reception of her boss, Robin from the Council of Governments. Another elegant affair where we were all shared in the happiness of the wedded couple.

-----

So, God bless you Aldrin and Claudia: from what I saw at the wedding ceremony and the following reception, it looks like He is already blessing you with the happiness of your families. May He continue to do so.

I'm In (the Philippines)

Originally posted Sep 17, 2005

I've arrived safely: here I am in the Philippines, back together with my dear wife and (not so) little girls. The flights were non-events, and getting through customs with my one carry-on (Starbucks one-armed) backpack was a breeze. Good thing they didn't ask if I was carrying deadly weapons, 'cause I'd be forced to claim myself.

Flying from the USA to Korean, Inchon Airport (it was a Korean Air flight) is always fun for me, because I get to eat the Korean food and also watch the Korean movies. It almost goes without saying that the Korean food selection is much better than their Merkan alternative. The same goes double for the movies: I don't know what the Korean equivalent of Hollywood is, but they seem to be doing better at putting something interesting into their movies.

For examples: Their first movie was the merkan "Something Like Love" or something like that for the title. A nice little ho-hum movie to pass the time. A question: is it absolutely essential in merkan romcoms for the female lead to sleep with all the male characters, and while so doing show that, yes, she does diet and do full-body toning exercises?

The next two movies, I didn't get their titles, because my Hangul reading isn't all that good. The first one costarred the girl who starred in the Korean movie "My Little Bride" (one of my top ten favs). It was a "Shall We Dansu" (not the Jennifer Lopez vehicle, please)/ "Strickly Ballroom" kind of movie that I love -- unspoken love between the leads, blocked by 50,000 obstacles, and lots of gorgeous dancing to fill the remaining hour of the movie. *sigh* Predicable and wonderful. Hey, can I learn to samba like that?

The next one was a Korean "anti-soap opera": a little gem of the movie with a silent, dutiful husband that gets the can with everyone else (off stage) when the company sinks, and the not-so-soft-spoken wife. What does he do? Of course he doesn't tell his wife not to by the new Kimchee fridge, he goes and gets himself a job as a housekeeper ... where the lady of the house is a hawt-young-vamp in a white silk teddy. What kept me glued to my seat on this one was (well, besides the illuminated "fasten your seatbelts" sign) that here fidelity and duty took center stage, and the movie portrayed these qualities in these characters so empathetically, that it had me cheering for the happy, albeit unresolved, ending (did he stay a housekeeper after the wife found out, weeping at his "shame" -- his reply: "So you don't like what I give you because it's money smelling of fish and rice and isn't a nice crispy check?")

Then, arriving at the airport (no, it was a lot of "fun" crossing paths with Diane's parents for more than an hour), I went right to bed, and woke up with Isabel. Who, when she saw me, couldn't stop the giggles for an hour. We fell right into the groove, though: she was handing me water between DDR songs like a pro before noon.

Elena Marie, of course, was very pleased to meet me ... from behind her mother's leg.

And Diane finally got hugs from her man.

So, that's it. Now, off to the "ou-hoo" ("Swimming Pool" as Isabel pronounces it).

Our Pool Game

Originally posted Sep 18, 2005

We all, all of us (Mama, Papa, Diane, Omar, Dennis, the kids, and myself), headed off to the "8 Waves" resort that has at least 5 kinds of swimming pools (as far as I have seen). This "morning" at 2:30 am I woke up and did not go back to sleep. So I headed out with my bokken to terrify the night shift and practice some kenjutsu. I did both with flying colours (the lady at the front desk appeared thoroughly confused: "Should I run away screaming at the top of my lungs, or should I answer this terrorist's question of 'what time is it?'" -- must remember to stow the sword first before approaching someone from now on).

Was told twice, once just now, that internet wasn't working. This last time I didn't buy it: "But I was on this morning..." Oh, no problem then, sir, right this way. Harrumph!

Isabel and Diane found me at the keyboard this morning, so the li'l tyke and I shared breakfast at the "Pancake House" while Diane watched over Elena Marie, who is in the habit of sleeping past 9:30 in the morning. That's my girl!

I caused quite a stir at breakfast, as I kept up an uninterrupted flow of Tagalog with Isabel and the wait staff, who tried, and failed, to be surruptitious in their amazement: "He's speaking Tagalog!" They whispered in Tagalog. That earned a look from me. The other early morning guests at breakfast were equally nonplussed. I guess it's hard to imaging Joe White-Guy sprachen da vernacular (that's French).

Breakfast was soon over because of Isabel's impatience: "Ou-hoo!" ["Swimming Pool!"] So I guess it was time for a swim. Diane and I did the switcheroo, and she took li'l Iz out with the rest of the family while I lay in bed, next to Elena Marie, trying half-heartedly to return to sleep, but really I just basked in the joy of watching my little Elena breathe evenly in her sleep. After an hour or so, she turned, sat up, looked at me and pronounced: "Papa, it's morning." That's correct, it was indeed morning, being just past 9:30 am. So we all dressed in our swimming suits and headed toward the ou-hoo, um, I mean, pool. Isabel, Elena Marie, Diane and I all played in the kiddie pool for a while, but then, around noon, Isabel froze and began to wail, signalling it was time for her nap. Which she stumbled, rather than dove, right into.

So, that left me to look after Elena Marie. She stomped off to our shack to obtain the beach ball, and we played beach volleyball until lunch time -- we reached the high-water mark of 4 consecutive hits each before the ball landed in the water. Way to go, kiddo! Another little girl, a bit older than Elena Marie, crouched in the pool near us, watching us play. She zipped off to capture a wayward ball, handing it back to the imperious, shocked, and enraged Elena Marie ("Elena Marou, I love you!" I sang to her this morning. "I'm NOT Elena MarOU!" was the response. Good thing I knew this game. "Then who are you?" I asked expectantly. "I'm Elena MarIE!" Ah, so).

Her shock and anger eventually subsided. She experienced quite a turn-around, in fact. As she eventually handed the ball to the girl to hit to me, and then would direct me to throw the ball for the girl to hit instead of herself. Elena Marie actually took turns being hurt ("It's MY ball!" grabbing it away) and helpful, but the girl was compliant throughout. I never did get her name. But her parents being nowhere in sight, I felt it too forward to query for details.

So, today was some special, special time with Elena Marie: a "good morning" and some fun pool games.

Lunch delivered to our shack from the Pancake House.

That being over, Dennis and I repaired to the pool hall/karaoke bar (ummm, should I start on a rant about there not being one single good singer at the karaoke bar, and that singing louder off key doesn't mean it sounds better?) And we spent the next two hours there in a seven game shoot out.

• Game one: I won. A double combo (Dennis: "Hustler!") to leave the eight ball, then a banked shot across the green to sink it, winning the game (The attendant: "good shot!"). This was the last game I won.


• Game two: Dennis won. Easily.


• Game three: Ditto game two.


• Game four: Dennis handed me the game on the break when he scratched. "Salamat po!" I crowed. Dennis looked confused until I explained the rule to him. Then he looked sheepish.


• Game five: I won. Dennis sunk 5 balls, I sunk one. My "strategy" worked perfectly: he scratched on an eight ball try because of all my landmines blocking his shot.


• Game six: I returned the favour -- but I had a clear advantage going into the endgame, as he had three balls still left on the table -- I lost my patience and the game.


• Game seven: It was early in the game with the eight ball covering a corner pocket. I was going to sneak a striped ball around it for a sinker. My cue ball missed my ball, hit the eight ball perfectly for a quick wrap-up for Dennis.

Now, we're off to Church and Dennis is buying rounds at the bar from his huge stash of earnings that we didn't bet on the games. Before the games Dennis whispered to me: "I stink!" I responded right away: "So these will be easy wins for you: you've played enough to know that -- I haven't even played that much"

Played in the pool with the little kids, and Dennis played pool with the big kid. So, off we go. More news as life unfolds.

Falling Asleep at Mass

Originally posted Sep 19, 2005

So, anyway, we went to Mass, Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. This parish church looked amazing: it was a cathedral, almost a Basilica in its guilded reliefs and grandeur. Of course, since we are a bit away from the hubbub of Metro Manila, the Mass was entirely in Tagalog. Entirely. (Usually, at Marikina, the readings are in English and the order of the Mass: the Sanctus, the Lord's Prayer, the Homily are in Tagalog, so I can follow along well enough.) Our choir director came to the Philippines when his daughter's family came here on, um, business. He later complained to us that all the choirs here sing to the heartbeat: bump-bump, bump-bump goes the bass drum in every synthesizer of every choir he heard. Not so with this choir! They alternately chanted the Tagalog verses and then sang beautifully layered harmonies. It looked like there were eight members; the soloists sang wonderfully on their own, but also blended in with the other singers nicely.

The highlights of the mass where two full-on meltdowns by Isabel (she dropped her sunglasses on both occasions and could not be pried away from the floor) requiring that I take her outside into the sudden torrential downpour (that suddenly ceased as I walked outside carrying her) and my ability to jerk myself awake, three times, from a standing position. Those 5 pm Masses, after being awake since 2:30 am, are killers, I tell ya!

It's funny, as soon as I stepped outside, carrying the li'l tyke, she instantly stopped wailing to check out the neat surroundings. She became a sweet little baby again, looking out curiously from my arm to see the surrounding shops and houses, but she was especially attracted to the pair of Patriarchs guarding the entrance to the Church. On the right stood St. Peter in a green robe and gold cloth holding a pair of keys and on the left stood St. Paul in a grey robe and red cloth. I would point out features of each saint, and we would stand and admire the saint for a moment. Isabel would then shyly point toward the other saint, so then we would walk over to admire and observe. This cycle repeated quite a few times: Isabel also became interested in removing the rain water from the palms planted in front of the saints. As soon as she saw her mama pass by the entrance (returning from assisting Elena Marie, who needed to excuse herself for a moment), the game was up.

Good thing, too: she weighs in at 30 lbs now!

After Mass, the priest remained in the center aisle to dispense blessings. Diane's parents, who are not Catholic, shook his hand, instead of "mano"ing [bowing one's forehead to the back of the hand]. This surprised him. Then he saw me and Omar, who was wearing a "NYPD" dark blue shirt ... I think today was an unusual day for this priest.

We all then rushed out, back into the rain, to pile into our van. Isabel, being tired, began crying, so we formed a hasty plan: Elena Marie would go with Anda and Pap"U" to the pancake house for breakfast ("HOORAY!" Elena Marie is not one to turn down a pancake house invitation), and I would "guard" Isabel when Diane put her to bed. Not quite sure how well I "guarded" Isabel, because I was out before she was.

And then I woke up "this morning" to practice Kenjutsu, but, this time, the staff were used to my early morning ways (actually, I showed up at dawn, around 5:30 am, trying first to return to sleep), so, instead of panicking or keeping a very safe mental distance from me, they sat back and enjoyed the show. I always knew that 20 years of practicing swinging around a stick would turn out useful somehow.

'til next time (oh, by the way, our server's name at Pizza Hut (I was vetoed for McDo) was "Maui").

Time with Nana and Kiddies

Originally posted Nov 22, 2005

Okay, so, like, I just got this, ya know, email from Bill and Ocean saying that they were 'thinking' about me, so, like, overusing valley-girl-speak, I've overused my allotted vacation from writing emails to my family.

Sorry, this one is going to be short (ya know: work, 'n' stuff).

We all went to visit Nana and had a fun-taskic time; but not before receiving death threats from at least two relations: 'You tire out Nana, we come to kill you.' ... and these weren't iron-skillet warnings, no-no, these were, 'you like your eyes inside your head instead of outside, right?' kind of warnings. I knew I was Italian; I didn't know I was connected to the Mafia, though. Now I do.

We took Nana to 'Make your own teddy bear shop', and we all had fun. They had six stations install to stuff, to brush and to clothe the new playmates. Please allow me to welcome, officially, 'Emily' and 'Bamboo' [pron: 'ba-bu' by Isabel, or 'Kah(t)' when she forgets the name], two ballerina cats into the family. They are constant companions of the children, even unto now.

Here's the kicker: Nana served Gnocchi. ... and, no, you can't have any. (She asked me: 'How is it?' I asked her back: 'How can I phrase my answer in such a way in that you will serve this when I visit next time?' She laughed. BTW, the 'Italian' restaurants here don't know what gnocchi is. When I ask for vermicelli, they say, "We don't have that." "Do you have angel hair pasta?" "Oh, yes." "I'll have that, then." *sigh*)

Dad took us to the US Coast Guard Academy to watch a 'Pass in Review'. I got really 'homesick' watching those kids march past us. Hm; maybe they have a faculty position open ... ? The pass in review was in honor of a businessman, ex-army, who had donated a sum to the USCGA. That's nice of him; as the Coast Guard is always stretching: overworked and under-budgeted.

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Diane recently had a 'Mom's nite out' where she and other neighborhood mommies go on a supper outing and get a break from the kids and swap stories. Poor Elena Marie discovered that she is now very strongly attached to her mother, and started crying as Diane left for her supper (Courageous me: "It's okay, go on ahead; I CAN HANDLE THIS!" (yeah, right)). She didn't stop crying for two continuous hours. This woke the sleeping Isabel, who joined in the chorus for the second hour. Hm, turns out I couldn't handle this situation all that well, so, when I promised the kids that we would go out to find their mother, they sobered right up and off we went (As we were preparing to exit, Isabel's chin began to quiver: "No-no, Isabel, no crying if we are to find Mama"; she found some fortitude so as to press on). We hopped into the van, and we set out for the restaurant.

What do children do in a late night van ride? They fall asleep: quickly and deeply. Hey, dummy Dad, next time think of this option sooner than two hours into the saga! So, I turned toward home and parked in the driveway. ... and waited in the driveway for two more hours for Diane to return. The four-hour outing was a very good one for Diane. She was shocked to see us waiting in the van, but I didn't see an alternative: waking them up by removing them from their car seat would only restart the saga with a new intensity.

Of course, now that Elena Marie has become acquainted with the idea that being apart from her mother is too much to think on, she is now inseparable from her, even for dental appointments, etc. So, I told you the above story to tell you the below one.

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Diane had a teeth cleaning appointment during a lunch break. Elena Marie made it generally known that she would prefer to be with her mother. So we settled on a plan of attack that would have me chaperone Isabel while Elena Marie went with Diane to the Dentist's. This worked perfectly: Isabel and I dined at the Macaroni Grill (yes, the 'what's vermicelli?' place), and I have never seen a little girl have so much fun! It helps that she's attached to me, now, and found the prospect of an outing with Papa to be a reason for running in place and giggling ecstatically. The restaurant setting helped, too: they provided us with a rolled paper table setting and, count'm, FOUR CRAYONS! While we waited for our food ("The usual?" Our waiter, J.C., was pleased to know my order and pleased I remembered his name), Isabel alternately drew pictures (these she showed off with a good deal of satisfaction) or demanded I trace one, the other, or both of her hands or draw a new caricature of 'ba-ba!' [her personal pronoun; she calls herself 'baby']. She would have nothing to do with her chicken strips and french fries, instead, she would only take food offered from my plate. She also explored every detail of our booth, prancing, sans care, on the seat.

That is, until she tumbled from her precarious position to land with a solid *THUMP* on the floor under the table. After some crying, a kiss on the hurt, and some hug-time, she was good as new, and good thing this incident occurred at the end of our lunch after Diane had phoned to inform us of her return.

I was concerned that Elena Marie received the short end of this stick, but these concerns evaporated when I saw her, the next morning, line up her dolls, wiping their mouths with wet-naps: she instructed me that she was the doctor and they were getting their teeth cleaned.

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The next appointment followed a similar track: Elena Marie informed us of her preference (you do know how children inform parents of a view, right? If you don't know, I'll give you a hint: tears for hours), but this time I accompanied everyone on the visit. The waiting area was perfect: it had a kiddie korner, stockpiled with books and some other toys. So, after Elena Marie's initial reserve, both children came to me in turn demanding I read this or that book (or one of the five or so other books that they grabbed from the pile) to them, and when I paused to take a breath, Elena Marie would very sweetly sing out: "Papa, will you please read?" and punctuate the 'request' with a dazzling smile.

*sigh*

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Okay, back to work for me. Ocean, Bill: you can stop 'thinking' about me (I think 'thinking' about someone means 'calling the police to dredge the river for remains', so I'm sorry to cause any concerns). You all have a day that as good as a little girl singing to you and smiling dazzlingly while another one giggles ecstatically while running in place.

Hide 'n' Seek

So, I've been working on a new entry on monadic nondeterministic computation for three days now. Then what happens? My browser freezes, locking away three days work. So, what does one do, at 0530 (that's A.M.), when this happens? Start from scratch? Obviously, but then was not the time for doing that, being I was a bit unstable after my eighth operating system reinstall (don't ask, unless you want an earful), so off to bed I went. Instead, I'll treat you with some historical post not yet posted on this blog. Here's the first one:

Originally posted Nov 28, 2005

Hello, our family has been having it's usual plain-ole quiet domesticity, so I thought I'd share a little story. And so here it is.

Elena Marie enjoys organizing our playtime activities (statements like: "Papa, do a puppet show; here are the dolls you will use" and "Papa, I will be the teacher and you will be the daddy and Isabel will be the baby" (which induces Isabel and I to sit in front of Elena Marie raptly as she educates us on the essences of things: "This is this, and this is this, ... and this is ... a stick!")), so this weekend Elena Marie declared that we will play hide-n-seek: "You and Isabel hide under the bed [pointing to the specific bed], and don't hide anywhere else or I'll get lost!" She said, "Okay, go hide now!" looking to make sure we hid ourselves properly (I stood my ground: "You must count first!" 'cause I'm firm, and stuff ... (firm as in '"silky tofu" firm', not as in 'law firm')) and we promptly hid in the bathtub. After counting, she looked around the house (starting by looking under the indicated bed, I assume) and finally found us (I suppose it helped a bit that Isabel and I were giggling in anticipation and "peeking" out from behind the shower curtain).

Well, now it was the turn of Isabel and me to count and to seek. Elena Marie started the round off with panache: "I will hide under the bed here, okay, Papa?" indicating the same bed -- it wasn't really a question. So, dutifully, Isabel and I counted (Isabel sounds so sincere -- "awwwwwhn, duuuu, eeeee ..." -- as she counts), and then we embarked on a seeking adventure: we walked into the bedroom -- "Is she hiding in the closet, Isabel?" Isabel looked in the closet: "naaoowwh" meanwhile Elena Marie scratched the floor from under the bed, hintingly. We next went to the laundry bin -- "Is she here, Isabel?" Isabel looked at the clothes, searchingly: "naaowwwh!" Elena Marie: *scratch-scratch* We went into the hallway: "Isabel, is Elena Marie hiding in the banyo?" Isabel ran to the toilet, opened the lid, peered in and declared: "naaooww" as she slammed it closed.

That last little maneouver paralyzed Diane and me into fits of hysterics. I coundn't see because my vision was obscured by tears of laughter, and Diane was doubled over. At this point Elena Marie abandonned her subtle play and called out from under the bed, when drew Isabel "to find" her sister, so we all laughed and applauded each other's excellence.

Good times!