Whose birthday is it anyway?

In the end someone still has to do the dishes. I did some. Thanks to my family who portrayed me as the spic-and-span ferocious brigadier, Charlotte is now terrified of me. No you don't have to salute or curtsy, you just have to be neat and always prompt. That's the rule.

You see, our friend Charlotte will be traveling with us to NOLA for the wedding but now she's panic-stricken. With Auntie in command she now thinks there will be a pass-in-review everyday. Bad kids terrorizing Charlotte this way, but go on and practice your cadence call anyway.

See that lady wearing black
She makes a livin' on her back
She's a back-stroke swimmer
A back-stroke swimmer.... so it goes

It was Carol's birthday but look who's in the picture again. Grandma. Just watch that she doesn't blow your candles first. Gotta give it to her, she is photogenic if nothing else.

So how old are you now Carol? Hmmm. She doesn't remember.
Well, let me see. She's ripe enough to earn her well-deserved doctoral title this spring. The wait is over. Kudos to her and hats off to Ped who'll need to give her all the support as she defends her thesis. Too bad you can't just bribe the teacher with an apple, but I'm sure it'll just be a breeze for you. We'll be there right behind you, just promise to feed us after the graduation ceremonies.

Now if you'll excuse me, brainiac that I'm not, I have to get these goo off a basketful of pinecones I've squirreled away to make a wreath for Christmas.

Catwalk curiosity

My catwalk curiosity brought us to Bryant Park after our light brunch on the Upper West Side. Chantal & I were hoping for front row seats at this week's fashion show. Not a chance, without the clout of a fashionista or the purse of a socialite all we could afford was a view outside of the white tents. It's the last hurrah for the show at Bryant Park which is the center of the fashion district. After 17 years the tents will now be pitched at the new location at Lincoln Center in the fall.

The runways will be showing off models in furry eyebrows, with hair-raising animal-like hats and antler-inspired headgear much like Lady Gaga's. From the usual line-backer shoulders to high boots, platforms, all sorts of outrageous designs. Are these collections even saleable? Wearable?

Fashion Week seems to evoke the "return of confidence". In what? The economy? The models themselves? When you look at the enormous platforms that are worn these days, and how models trip and fall on the runways, I doubt if you'll see "confidence" written all over their tootsies. Pardon me but my own acrophobia stops me from wearing anything but flats.

We looked around and sure enough girls still try to look fashionable in their 7-inch platforms while navigating the snow pack reminders of the last storm on the city sidewalks. A challenge I'll find hard to accomplish.

Plan B: Here's after failing to gate-crash the tent show. The New York Public Library, the mother of all libraries as one New Yorker put it. Out of luck, we got only as far as the grand portico. Duh, it's a federal holiday. And I wanted to show Chantal the majestic reading room.

Plan C: Grand Central Terminal. Two down, let's try other touristy spots while we're at it loitering. After a few photo ops, I showed Chantal the hidden gem of this landmark - the Whispering Gallery. It's right outside of the Oyster Bar restaurant. Here's how it works. Stand in diagonal corners from a friend or loved one with backs turned to the chamber's center and whisper secrets into the corner joint. Amazingly, the person diagonally across will hear you. It's been said that many have sunk in their knees for a marriage proposal at this corner.

Tired of lookin' up, we took the S shuttle to Times Square where I walked her to the platform going back to the UWS. Phyllis must be worried about Chantal venturing on her own in the subways, our sweet lady from Texas. Let's not add to Phyllis' troubles, she already missed our reunion thanks to stomach flu and so did Maria.

With the Fashion Week in full swing, there's another marathon I'm watching - the Winter Olympics. Some of the boldest fashion statements are made here too. Their runways are the terrains of beautiful Whistler and the slopes of the Cypress mountains.

Did you see those uniforms/costumes? Snowboarders in pajamas, skiers in Spider- Man suits, some Evil Knievel-inspired and how about Johnny Weir's all knit ensemble? One critic called it "silly strings from a can".

My Olympic favorites : smooth Apolo. And (as I update this blog) the daredevil ski cross teams. What a spectacle! If for any reason Shaun White's career as the golden boy of snowboarding takes a hit, he can always be the poster boy for that madras jacket, whoever designed it. On the runways or at the Game, there will always be fashion paux pas. But what a show!

La Fille du Regiment

Ah mes amis (Pour mon ame)

It's the famous tenor showpiece every aspiring tenor would just love to be able to toss off. Without a shrill the charismatic Juan Diego Florez belted out the string of high C's this opera is noted for and which made the legendary Pavarotti famous.

La Fille du Regiment is considered one of the most vocally challenging operas as it includes some of the most taxing tenor arias. This comedic opera is pure charm with lots of show stopping arias, choruses, choreography and entertaining physical comedic acts performed by no other than the singers themselves. What a gift to be able to execute flawless singing with slapstick comedy.

Young and very good looking, Juan Diego Florez is dubbed the new king of high C's as his impeccable and warm voice hit those pesky notes no one has done since Pavarotti. The only disappointing part was the encore I was hoping for which I didn't get, after the tumultuous applause he received for his "Pour mon ame".

Equally stellar was the performance of Diana Damrau in the darling role of Marie, the love-struck, rambunctious tomboy orphan. Playing the role of a 15 - year old girl, she delivered physical theatrics with such perfect timing. Too bad she didn't get the ovation I would've liked to see, probably because her big arias mostly segue into a chorus or another aria with no time for a pause for a thunderous applause.

I was enthralled by Florez's tender rendition of "Pour me rapprocher de Marie". Oh what a genuinely touching romance, I heard a few sniffles beside me. The great mezzo Kiri Te Kanawa, now 65, was guest with the speaking role of Duchess of Krakenthorp, throwing some comedic asides in English. But what's with the Dom Perrignon added dialogue - in the 1840's?

The clothesline-pulling scene in Act I as Marie bids farewell in "Il faut partir", was both sad and funny. She reminded me of Linus dragging his blanket on the ground. And if that's not enough, at the climax the armored truck rescue to stop the wedding of Marie to the Duchess' nephew gave us a good laugh!

The set design was simple but clever - very large maps that doubled as mountain ranges, the clotheslines and laundry and buckets of potatoes. There is no reading between the lines, it's plain romantic comedy. Extremely funny with a lot of vocal fireworks!

Judging from the cheers, the Met crowd was smitten by Tonio and Marie as they nailed every high note and made us laugh at the perfect time. The discriminating Met audience clearly got their fill of La Fille du Regiment.

Note: Watch for a charming young tenor named Alek Shrader. He won the 2009 Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions. He too has solid high C's as he sang Pour mon ame at the competition.

Only one mother

Only One Mother

by George Cooper

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky
Hundreds of shells on the shore together

Hundreds of birds that go singing by

Hundreds of bees in the sunny weather.

Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn

Hundreds of lambs in the purple clover

Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn

But only one mother the wide world over.

(In memory of Winnie's mom)

February 11, 2010

What's a pothole, mommy?

It didn't go according to plan at least for little Garrett. For him, touring New York is least important as having a snowball fight. The weekend that Jaime and Nikki are visiting Chong a winter storm was predicted but the darn white stuff that Garrett was hoping to play in shifted to the south leaving us with only some light dusting. Imagine having to fly from Florida just to see snow and now this? The kid must think this is some kind of nasty joke.

It was first for Nikki and Garrett in NYC. Jaime lived here before and all he cares about now is having that inimitable NY pizza, first in the neighborhood, then at Lombardi's in Little Italy.

And Garrett - every chance he got, he stepped on snow dust and rolled microscopic snowballs. That joyful smile! He did have fun at the Museum of Natural History - every child's dream - Night at the Museum comes alive! But he still preferred to have built snowdogs. When warned about being swallowed by a pothole, the kid didn't have a clue as to what I was talking about. Me and my dry-as-a-saltine-cracker litttle joke.

What's a pothole, mommy? Okay Garrett I guess potholes are exclusively Made in New York.

A few hours after we dropped them at the airport to return home, a blizzard dumped about 8 inches on us. It's a tad bit late for Garrett, he won't believe this. This is what you missed my friend. Bummer! Would you like us to send some your way? I heard it snowed at the Keys, so you still can hope for some in Tampa, okay?

Bucks stopped the Knicks

Would it kill me to spend a few hours with these good guys in exchange for dinner at Mustang Harry's and a Knicks game at the Garden? After all I've spent some of my most creative (Ha!) years in my career with some of these fellas. Besides no one wants to waste good money that the company belches out once a year to say thanks to its highly motivated employees (another big Ha!). Thanks to Santina, Maria (I'm her guest) and Michael.

My kind of guys - whoever's left of the old team, then some new.. witty Abdul, gentle Jimmy, funny Ray, pontificating Valerio, Scott, Pat, Carol and "ping that device" Melena.

It gave me an uneasy feeling, Michael the big honcho luring me into coming back to work and Scott singing the same tune. But I won't steal the spotlight from my buddy Pat or my mentee, Carol. And risk falling out of favor and not get that birthday present?

If your college days were like mine, you probably have gone to a few basketball games at a stadium. Back then, my brother June would drag me to the Araneta Coliseum or Rizal Stadium. Big names like Caloy Loyzaga and Robert Jaworski and teams like Toyota and Crispa graced the sports world in the Philippines in those days. My dear brother, he too was a star player in his own right in high school. Dreams shattered by a tough schedule in engineering school.

The Bucks beat the Knicks 114-107, but who cares. It's not all about the scores, or is it?
Here's some highlights:

This is as Brk'lyn as one can get - these fans are so into it!

It was fun being surrounded by young high-fiving fans "declaring their fanhood", I felt like a kid again. At halftime washing down that Mustang Harry's sirloin (not grilled to my specs, by the way, but thanks anyway) with what seemed like a bucket of Sprite and a Haagen Daz bar - aahh, so refreshing.

And what's with these drinks of divine proportion at the games? What ever happened to small and medium? Everything is gigantic.

And don't send me out there at halftime to redeem your voucher for a free Knicks T-shirt. A few trips from our nosebleed seats could've sent me tumbling down if didn't grab onto the handrails. MSG is awesome but I got lost, and eventually found my way, with the help of Oishe and Melena. Who else but Melena - she always knows exactly what to do, if you get my drift!

And look who I discovered underground. It's Michael Shulman, the rock shred violinist. It was great watching a free performance on my way to the sports bar to meet the group. Interesting music, I've heard of shred guitar but violin?

Win or lose, as a New Yorker my loyalty is to the Knicks. I would've preferred if they played as good as Patrick Ewing, but....I don't get to watch a game for free very often, so fuggedaboudit let's just look the other way.

Super Bowl of cherries

What's the big deal about the Super Bowl and who cares about the game's logo, SB XLIV or #SB44 on Twitter? Needless to say I have no opinion on that since I don't care for football. Whether or not it will be "L" when it reaches 50, it doesn't matter to me.

All I know is that Roman or decimal, life commands that we all grow old.
And heaven help if my nephews lump me in with the geriatrics age group now that I turned another year older. If they do, they'll get written out of the will.

It was a small and yet not terribly quiet celebration last Saturday. The kids hinted at something different so we opted for a nice spread of tapas and stuff. Nelsie brought the wine, Ped had some fried butterfish for Inang who wouldn't have anything to do with the parchment-like serrano, the olives, cheeses, bread, etc. George brought some fruits and a package of torrones. I got a red sweater from Rose and Chong was my helping hand. Thank God for Zabar's for all the prepared food.

Between bites, I helped Nelsie book a flight for Marc's wedding in New Orleans, then get concert tickets under my name for the group called Muse. Alternative band, whatever that means. Nelsie is a master at cryptic texting her long lost classmates with her iPhone but would rather leave the drudgery of searching for flights to her poor aunt. That gives me something to live for in my senior years, doesn't it?

Well, today I got a call from MSG confirming the type of transport assistance I shall need at the Muse concert. Say what again? Me, disabled? How is that possible that I clicked on the patron with disability ticket choice? Ticketmaster will void the tickets with full refund and yet when I got back on queue for replacement all the normal good seats are gone. Nelsie was not amused, I was pissed.

I started a joke (cue: The Bee Gees), I tickled the ivories. Ped and Carol followed the act and you can guess what happened next. These pictures are worth a thousand words and we won't waste precious real estate to elaborate, look closely. You gotta love Carol's techniques, boasting some staccatos and long leaps. Ped was rolling on the floor, I swear! Ay Ave Maria!

Today is my birthday. Chantal and Phyllis sent some homebaked chocolate chip cookies. Although they survived the travel from Texas, they looked a little "deflated" from the trip. Hey, they are soft and chewy, just perfect you'll beg for more! Thanks guys, that was so sweet of you.

This Sunday the fanatics will be watching the Super Bowl looking for some "meaningful football". I'll probably entertain myself with the halftime ads, although searching for meaning is not my goal.

I'm tempted to underscore the similarities.
Life is a bowl of cherries. We take the good with the bad.

We walk away happy.