Rainy days never get me down
September 18, 2005 | 12:00am
There is something lazy about a rainy day. I woke up today, a good eight hours of sleep behind me, yet all I really wanted to do was ease deeper into the comfort of our bed and indulge in some more shuteye. I am sandwiched between the two loves of my life. My chubby little girl, who just turned five years old last week, is curled up beside me snoring softly, one arm flung over my chest in a semi-hug. Richard on my right is awake yet still sleepy, with one leg over both mine. The room is cooler than usual because of the rains that poured throughout the whole of yesterday until today and I can hear the drops hit our windowpane in regular beats. I love the rain and all the languid images it conjures in my mind. I can stay in the whole day and allow myself to simply be.
As a little girl, it was the delight of my heart to play under the pouring rain with my sister and cousins and after that, take a proper bathroom shower in one big, happy bunch. When I was a schoolgirl, I could not wait for the rainy days to come. During my lunch break I would curl up with a Nancy Drew book in the quiet of my room (everything in the province is near, so except for the ones who hailed from the neighboring towns, everyone pretty much went back to their respective homes to have lunch) and it became a double treat when the rains would come.
Reading is the rain’s true companion, and from Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Bobbsey Twins, in high school I graduated to reading Sweet Valley High, Sweet Dreams, and Mills and Boon. Soon enough my friends turned me on to all those sweeping historical romances and for a while there I even went into a Danielle Steel phase (I stopped on my fourth D.S. book, though, because I felt she had a penchant for killing off the story characters she no longer needed, no offense meant to her legions of fans). At any rate, there was nothing quite like reading a beautiful love story, bittersweet or not, with a rainy day as your backdrop.
Speaking of love stories, at the very top of my agenda today is to go to a bookstore and get Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson. My friend Denise texted me to say that she was sure I was going to absolutely love it and that it was even better than The Notebook. She did not have to convince me that much, really. The title alone had me all sold. I cannot wait to curl up with it.
Once upon a very rainy afternoon, when I was yet a new bride and had little foresight when it came to keeping the pantry well-stocked, Richard came home with friends in tow. Although there were other kinds of de lata and some chips, the most fitting thing to serve that we had available was the box of chocolate to be made into a hot drink. Back in the province, almost every other household had a cottage industry, so we rarely bought commercial hot chocolate. The ones abundantly and readily available were the homemade tablea, made fresh and pure from cacao grown in the backyards of private homes. That time, though, the nearest source of homemade tablea I knew was all the way in Batangas, but I did have two boxes of the ever-reliable Ricoa chocolate blocks staring back at me. Pocahontas and I followed the cooking instructions, added some fresh milk and we promptly served the aromatic liquid in handsome mugs I had just bought from Cardinal Ceramics. (Pocahontas, if you must know, was our helper then but she left us after she fell in love with our security guard. They are now married with one child.) Anyway, I remember that Richard and his friends finished everything we had made. Some of them even asked what brand of gourmet hot chocolate we had used. Ha! Gourmet hot chocolate! It was simply good old reliable Ricoa, lovingly made. The fact that they thought it was gourmet must be the doing of the rain, the mugs, or a combination of both. Whatever the reason, I still always keep boxes of Ricoa at the ready. You never know when the rains and friends will come.
I once went to do the grocery and got caught in a heavy downpour from the store to the parking lot with my favorite pair of leather shoes on. When I got home, the poor things were peeling off in ugly patches. Never again. Richard promptly got me a sturdy pair of Caterpillar shoes to match his own. I am happy to say that it has withstood many storms, countless wet puddles, formidable rainy days and yes, each is still in one piece – characteristically weathered but functional just the same. Time and many downpours have proven it was a very wise buy indeed. Thank heavens for sturdy shoes. And umbrellas. We take for granted the dozens we receive during Christmas but boy, do they come in handy and practical.
The skies are gray today, and the rain softly continues in a steady compass, making soft plopping sounds that I find very soothing. I have the whole day still ahead of me, errands to run, homework I have to help Juliana with, a dance class to attend, that one book by James Patterson to get. Hopefully later, one of my friends will be free so we can have coffee together in Starbucks or milk tea at Seattle’s Best. Should all of them be busy still, I know in my pantry are blocks of Ricoa I can prepare and pour into a pretty cup. I so love rainy days. Contrary to Ms. Carpenter’s famous song, they never get me down.
As a little girl, it was the delight of my heart to play under the pouring rain with my sister and cousins and after that, take a proper bathroom shower in one big, happy bunch. When I was a schoolgirl, I could not wait for the rainy days to come. During my lunch break I would curl up with a Nancy Drew book in the quiet of my room (everything in the province is near, so except for the ones who hailed from the neighboring towns, everyone pretty much went back to their respective homes to have lunch) and it became a double treat when the rains would come.
Reading is the rain’s true companion, and from Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Bobbsey Twins, in high school I graduated to reading Sweet Valley High, Sweet Dreams, and Mills and Boon. Soon enough my friends turned me on to all those sweeping historical romances and for a while there I even went into a Danielle Steel phase (I stopped on my fourth D.S. book, though, because I felt she had a penchant for killing off the story characters she no longer needed, no offense meant to her legions of fans). At any rate, there was nothing quite like reading a beautiful love story, bittersweet or not, with a rainy day as your backdrop.
Speaking of love stories, at the very top of my agenda today is to go to a bookstore and get Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson. My friend Denise texted me to say that she was sure I was going to absolutely love it and that it was even better than The Notebook. She did not have to convince me that much, really. The title alone had me all sold. I cannot wait to curl up with it.
Once upon a very rainy afternoon, when I was yet a new bride and had little foresight when it came to keeping the pantry well-stocked, Richard came home with friends in tow. Although there were other kinds of de lata and some chips, the most fitting thing to serve that we had available was the box of chocolate to be made into a hot drink. Back in the province, almost every other household had a cottage industry, so we rarely bought commercial hot chocolate. The ones abundantly and readily available were the homemade tablea, made fresh and pure from cacao grown in the backyards of private homes. That time, though, the nearest source of homemade tablea I knew was all the way in Batangas, but I did have two boxes of the ever-reliable Ricoa chocolate blocks staring back at me. Pocahontas and I followed the cooking instructions, added some fresh milk and we promptly served the aromatic liquid in handsome mugs I had just bought from Cardinal Ceramics. (Pocahontas, if you must know, was our helper then but she left us after she fell in love with our security guard. They are now married with one child.) Anyway, I remember that Richard and his friends finished everything we had made. Some of them even asked what brand of gourmet hot chocolate we had used. Ha! Gourmet hot chocolate! It was simply good old reliable Ricoa, lovingly made. The fact that they thought it was gourmet must be the doing of the rain, the mugs, or a combination of both. Whatever the reason, I still always keep boxes of Ricoa at the ready. You never know when the rains and friends will come.
I once went to do the grocery and got caught in a heavy downpour from the store to the parking lot with my favorite pair of leather shoes on. When I got home, the poor things were peeling off in ugly patches. Never again. Richard promptly got me a sturdy pair of Caterpillar shoes to match his own. I am happy to say that it has withstood many storms, countless wet puddles, formidable rainy days and yes, each is still in one piece – characteristically weathered but functional just the same. Time and many downpours have proven it was a very wise buy indeed. Thank heavens for sturdy shoes. And umbrellas. We take for granted the dozens we receive during Christmas but boy, do they come in handy and practical.
The skies are gray today, and the rain softly continues in a steady compass, making soft plopping sounds that I find very soothing. I have the whole day still ahead of me, errands to run, homework I have to help Juliana with, a dance class to attend, that one book by James Patterson to get. Hopefully later, one of my friends will be free so we can have coffee together in Starbucks or milk tea at Seattle’s Best. Should all of them be busy still, I know in my pantry are blocks of Ricoa I can prepare and pour into a pretty cup. I so love rainy days. Contrary to Ms. Carpenter’s famous song, they never get me down.
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