Joyful in 2008

On Saturday mornings, I tidy up my house.  There is writing class in a few hours and at least the table top must be without dust.  At 2 p.m. I conduct my class and by 4:30 p.m. my house is clear again.  By 5 p.m. my paintings are down and stacked on my sofa.  My bag is packed with the bedsheet I use as table cover and postcards I’ll be selling the next day.  Yes, the next day is Sunday, my day at the Legaspi Market.

At around 8:30 p.m. I prepare for bed.  I set the alarm clock for 6 a.m.  One needs to get ready for the market early.  Usually I wake up a few minutes before the alarm clock rings, take a cold, quick shower.  Makeup!  This is the thing that convinces me I am fully recovered from my stroke.  I now wear makeup again.

At 7 a.m. my doorbell rings.  My driver is at the door to pick up my paintings, whether or not we have a car.  He brings them downstairs, fastens them to a borrowed cart – on one side the paintings, the other side the short ladder we need to put them up.  I follow him dragging my little suitcase, which contains everything we need to get settled.  Together we walk half a block to the market site and there begin to set up.

By 8 a.m. we are all settled.  I have my two plastic chairs, my allotment.  I get myself a cup of wonderful strong brewed coffee at Tong’s booth.  They sell coffee in cups or bags of beans or powdered coffee for brewing.  You should try it some time.  That single cup sees me through until noon.

How am I doing at the market?  In one month I have sold two paintings and about 70 packets of postcards.  Not bad.  Also our art gallery has expanded.  There are four of us now who share a tent.  Sunny Garcia, an oil painter who was there before me. Dante, whose last name escapes me, who sells mixed media.  Raymond, who came after Dante, who sells photographs and frames, and finally there’s me, the watercolorist.  There are also two jewelers, someone who sells, clothes, another who sells shoes.  There are bags, baskets, albums, shawls and all sorts of other things to eat and drink or to take home.  It is a market whose personality is developing.

Anyway, at 2 p.m. we begin to pack up and by 4 p.m. on Sunday my house looks normal again.  It stays that way until the next Saturday night.

But my life has gotten busier.  One day I got a text from friends who invited me to look at Greenbelt 5.  We all had been to school together when they were in their late 20s and I in my late 50s.  Nevertheless we laugh a lot together.  We had lunch at Pia y Damaso on the second floor.  It was good, the desserts were outstanding.  Then another friend called and we met at Fely J’s.  Didn’t know it belonged to Larry Cruz, who had just passed but his restaurants operate on and still very successful.  In that sense, I am happy for Larry.  He must be smiling at the success he left behind.  We were rather good friends and I am sorry that he is gone.

Two nights later it was Chateau 1771 at Greenbelt 5 again.  Also pretty good but the best I realized was Fish Out of Water on the third floor.  That’s where I landed the next night.  I ordered Pateros balut pate, which I found unusually delicious. Then I had Bonoan bangus over Lucban longganisa risotto.  I think of all the restaurants I’ve been to and this last one deserves more visits. 

But why have I been to so many restaurants lately?  It has to do with my column about not having a car and walking.  Must have wrung the hearts of my old friends.  Carmen called to give me the number of her taxi source.  Other friends called to invite me out to dinner.  “Don’t worry, we will pick you up and take you home,” they said.  And they did.

All this leads me to be grateful for the changes in my life.  Last year, at around this time I was feeling low, felt somewhat depressed.  But a year later, I cannot help but notice how things have changed.  I have two writing classes, on now.  I sell at the market with plans to expand my line.  I am getting job offers, some interesting.  Everything has improved.  Everything is better.

In celebration, I stick to my 2008 routine.  This morning, as you read this, I am setting up to clean my house to prepare for my Joy of Writing class full of hope that the rest of the week remains joyful.

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