Nevergirl’s

The man of the house is a genius in the kitchen. He knows his way around the kitchenware, china, cookbooks, spice rack, and water softener because he’s a nerd and a foodie like that. But like most, we’re failed geniuses. We’re brilliant only when we can be bothered to try.

Oh wait, this isn’t right. How on earth did I jump from singular to plural? Forget we because I come with an “Absolutely No-Cook” warning. Between the two of us, it’s the husband who cooks. It’s not a marital arrangement (read: me henpecking him into doing the cooking); it’s a deal borne out of instinctive self-preservation because I’ve recently transitioned from burning the meal to burning my hand. He thinks it’s safer and less traumatic for the whole family if certain people avoid contact with the kitchenware, and I agree with him.

But going back to the man’s kitchen brilliance, I wish he’d bother to try harder more often. Trying harder means a delish smorgasboard of culinary delights as opposed to one delicious dish only, which is what merely trying translates to in this case.

What happens when the husband tries harder? This is what happens. Yum!














The hamonada could use some more work, methinks, because I like my meat well-done. The bistek is wonderful, but the baked scallops – oh, the baked scallops! It’s better than AA’s or Neo-Neo’s!

Manihapon ta ninyo!

I’m amazed by my ability to multi-task, I really am. While keeping the peace between the two daughters, I was mentally debating whether to check on National Bookstore to see if they sell books by the authors I’ve been thinking of taking for a test run. I was also figuring out what to bring to the family day come Saturday, when to meet up with the MIL for her birthday dinner, and how to navigate the day’s foray to the mall in such a way that we can make it in time for the party even if we’ve to stop for a pressie for Xabier and at the same time, buy the two little girls footwear.

I’m not sure how they did it but now their white shoes won’t fit — and I could have sworn the last time they wore them was two weeks ago!

So yes, I am amazing like that — as all mothers are, I suspect. I can do one thing with my hands while my mind does other things. But here’s the thing -  so lost in thought was I that I didn’t even remember I hadn’t combed my hair after my quick shower; and I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t seen myself in one of the mall’s huge mirrors! Yikes!

Oh, and here are the two kids who almost had to go to the mall shoeless. I’m sorry, I wish I can say I put them up to this. But no, they make faces on their own, all the time, and over nothing!

I’m not so sure we have better-looking photos of ourselves during Xabier’s party. We must have. Surely we didn’t wear these faces the whole time! Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if we did. It’s in the genes.

Sometimes, I think of buying the strangest things. It’s a good thing we’re not rolling in shitloads of cash or our house would be a little museum of oddities by now. For instance, these past few weeks have been extremely trying temperature-wise. It’s hot and humid in the afternoons and evenings so we crank up the AC so we don’t feel like we’re being roasted. But, it gets really chilly at dawn — and we end up so cold we wake up at 4 or 5am and couldn’t go back to sleep again!

Given that sleeping is one of those things I really suck vacuum cleaners at, I value my sleeping hours and would like to stretch it for as long as I could. So I thought, “Why not get an electric blanket?” We’d be able to sleep through chilly dawns!

Now, I’m not sure if it’s sold locally but I did some reading and the blanket is supposed to operate on low, non-hazardous DC voltage. It distributes heat evenly, comes with low to high settings, takes 15 minutes or less to warm up, and automatically shuts off after 10 hours. So, we could crank up the AC as much as we like and not turn into icicles the next day. Plus, it can be machine washed and dried, and it supposedly keeps its size even after several washing so there’s no way the help can ruin it. Perfect, right?

But there is a catch, and it’s one I can’t get past: electric blanket = electricity. For the life of me, I can’t imagine wrapping myself in something that operates with 120 volts. Sure, the wires aren’t bulky and sure, I’d probably not even notice the wires are there. But wires are wires — and it would feel odd to make them bedfellows, no matter how prettily they’re packaged.

Has anyone tried using electric blankets? Do these things really warm you up without making meatroll out of you the next day?