Washerwoman's hands

How often do we say Thank you?
Since our house helper is out of town this past few days, I took on her role of washing the dishes. Not really a big deal since I'm used to doing it during my medschool years. Being in pad of my own somehow taught me the pleasure and pain of independence.
Now, I'm back to living with my parents. Back to the comfort zone.
Funny though, after eating our meal, my dad offered to do the dishes. Maybe he thought his princess didn't know how. It's so sweet of him to put my comfort ahead of his. I smiled and was grateful for this tiny gesture of love. Thanks daddy, but I couldn't let you do this task for me.
I love my dad. And even now that I've grown old, I know that when he looks at me...he sees the face of his little girl.

Lately, I find myself crying in solitude. Never a night passes without a tear. What's going to happen when I leave? Who will take care of him? Who will give him his vitamins? Who will care to ask if he wanted a snack? No matter how small, it still concerns me. I just hope that he won't slip even in the slightest of depression. He's such a softy when it comes to me. I pray that God will grant him the strength to overcome the longing and emptyness.

All this fuss...over my water-wrinkled hands.

Conditioning

It's like stagnant water.
Like time stood still.
Like being catatonic.
Like blood-letting.
I feel drained and useless.
Don't even have the resources to watch a movie.
If I don't leave, I'll probably die a poor man.
I want to go to Papua New Guinea!
A place that embraces us with respect and confidence.
Have to learn to speak in Pidgin.
Don't question my patriotism.
We'll be serving a Filipino community.
That's an understatement.
Earn a living and put some spunk to my otherwise faltering medical career.
Be back in a few years.

Think about this several times a day.
Condition myself.

Keeping Memories

If a photograph is all you've got, wouldn't you keep it?

My BIL's wedding Album:
The price for the Renaissance album sure is worth it. The pictures are also nice. Couldn't say much about it. There isn't really much to say...or see. I was looking forward to see myself in it. I was surprised to find out that they didn't include their guests in the album. It was a lonely picture. Like a low budget movie with no actors. If I wasn't there to see it, I would have guessed that it was unreal. Maybe they wanted the album to be filled with pictorials...as in...scripted and superficial. That's just how I see it. But as I've said, it's still nice... to each his own.

Our wedding album:
Though the leather album lacks the sophistication when compared with the Renaissance, I feel good about it.
The content is more important than the cover. Every tear, every smile, everyone who came, celebrated and honored us with their presence...everything captured. Again, that's just my opinion.
And if you're wondering whatever happened to our album...it's now in the capable hands of Mimi and Karl. I hope it gets restored soon. And just to keep it safe from unmindful spectators, we had a miniature album done. I should have thought about this before!

Wedding Scrapbook:
I'm trying to start this project. It's long overdue. Wedding preps, bumps, and everything in between.

Nada

We're running low and dry.
No income for this week. The clinic has been closed for a few days now. Problems with plumbing, drainage etc... flooding inside. Guess what the new plumber found? There was a bag of dirt inserted and stuck at the elbow of the PVC pipes. Who could have done that? From an insiders point of view, the plumber said that some construction workers intentionally do that so whenever a problem arises, the homeowners would recall them ....hence, another paying job. Crap! This is all bull....

+ + +

A month ago, we started making accessories to sell in PNG.

The good news... it's a flourishing business.

So, we sent another batch of swarovski crystal bracelets, necklaces and earrings.

At least, even if we're not earning here... there's always the Papua market to fall back on.