I'm not saying Obama's the next superhero, but I do think he will do as much good as anyone who's been the underdog too long. Let's see what he can do.
We rented a local tourist van for the recent trip we took in the Bicol region and his name was Manong Boie (yes, it is spelled like that). 6 towns in 2 days equates to a whole lot of driving . And I know that the longer the travel, the more personal the conversation becomes. I enjoy those dialogues because I learn different perspectives on life. Just take for example the latest gleanings I got from our retired engineer turned tourist guide/ van driver. H's 62 years old with three children. His youngest is in high school, his oldest is 25 years old and holds a PhD. degree. He's originally from Bulacan, but upon finding the woman he loved, he married her and moved to her hometown in Legaspi City. They raised their family there and through toil and sweat they managed to provide for the eduation of their kids. He often expressed his amazement about how " on-the-go " we were. He compared us to robots running on compressed and almost bottomless energy. I think he meant th
Stephen vs. Stephenie, the fight is onnnnn! :) Guess whose side I'm on? I just read this in yahoo mail and I had to IMMEDIATELY blog about it out of pure joy that all the faults I found wasn't just in my head. Somebody else who has more authority to speak about it, agrees. Meyer sucks. She just purely does. She was saved by finding a really great story, one she didn't do much justice, but girls will read anything with a hot dude in it. We are not all Stephen King fans, but I respect this dude (botoxed face and all) coz he writes. And even if his stories are creepy, he writes them well. I don't always like what he writes about (i.e. What's up with that The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, huh?), but at least he tells it well. And for those who say, well, Meyer's an amateur, get this: writing Twilight makes her an amateur. Did we see improvement in the next books though? At all? No. It even got worse. One word: Renesmee. But I've said all this before. Let me just qu
This is not a blog post. It’s a love story. It was late afternoon when we stepped outside of Pisa Centrale, the clacking of my son’s stroller on the cobblestone streets echoing down the lane. We just came from Florence for the day, we had no luggage, and we also had no taxi to take back to our hotel. It had been a long day. We must have walked a dozen miles in the last 7 hours exploring every Florentine nook and cranny we happened to come by. I was at the end of my short string, and my husband was at the end of his long one. Our toddler was quiet in his stroller, obviously just as exhausted as his parents even if he hadn’t left his stroller for more than 10 minutes each time. One wrong move, we would’ve exploded. While waiting for the taxi in silence, I had been staring at a building unseeingly for the last 5 minutes. Then I realized, the light looked yellow. The sun streaming through the sides, and indeed, showering us with its rays was actually golden. That jolted me to the present
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