Wrong Send

Dearest Auntie--she who is the nightmare of every balikbayan--sent out a text message telling of the arrival of a relative and that that relative has tons and tons of stuff.

Dearest Cousin got the message and was naturally uber excited. After all, it is in her genes to salivate over things "imported." Her mom is the type who would ask a homecoming relative to please, please, please give her whatever tube of lipstick the relative might have. Or to give her the shoes that the bewildered relative is wearing.

Dearest Cousin's excitement was dashed an alert tone later when Dearest Auntie sent an unapologetic message that the earlier "text" was not intended for Dearest Cousin. That it was, in fact, "wrong send."

Dearest Cousin is now inconsolable. She says Dearest Auntie could have said that a flying saucer swooped down and carried the stuff away. Or that the nonexistent family dog suddenly developed a liking for chocolates. Or that the BFAD raided Dearest Auntie's house and confiscated the stash because of high melamine and mercury content.

Anything, she says, but the darn "wrong send." :p

Post It

I haven't been to the post office in a long, long time. With everything going high speed these days, there just isn't room for taking time anymore. For taking it slow.

There is also the matter of location. It used to be that the post office was right in the middle of town, within walking distance from everything. Five--or was it ten?--years ago, PhilPost gave up prime real estate in the name of commerce. What used to be very accessible became relatively remote and--eventually--forgotten.

Today had me going back to once-familiar ground. Despite the five-year lull it looked as though nothing had changed. The old postmistress is there--still as smarmy as ever. The post-office boxes evoked the same mystery, and there was this musty scent that I have always associated with parcels waiting to be claimed.

Before cable, before the net and before cellulars made the world a lot smaller, Mr. Postman was our link to the outside world. He made summers a lot more exciting, and there was practically a world inside his mysterious brown bag. At one time, the bag yielded an autographed picture from the Debby Boone Fan Club!

My business at the post office took some time. It could have taken a lot less if the office workers clocked in on time, or if they did not do everything in slo mo.
Not that I minded, of course. Suddenly, I longed for the romance of snail mail, and for once, it felt good to take a little side step to a world that moved a little slower.

Malaise

So many things--er distractions--have taken my mind off Blogger for the longest time now. It's not that life hasn't been happening. Fact is, life's been zipping so fast I barely have time to process the "happenings." Something always gets lost between planning to write and actually writing, and most of the time I end up planting virtual tomatoes and blueberries instead.

In any case, the blogging malaise must also be due to the oppressive heat. No amount of Freon can seem to recharge my already frying brain. The beach used to be an option. Now it hints of heat stroke and sunburn and oil all over my face.

The heat is so bad that I am compelled to do nothing. It’s just that this space is already looking a little lonely. And I feel that I have to start posting again to get me back on track.

If it doesn’t, I can always blame it on the heat. Or on things that require minimum brain power. :p