JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

This afternoon while my taxi inched from Manila to Makati I heard some AM radio commentators discussing the feeding programs in public schools. Immediately I was transported to my own elementary schooldays. From prep to the sixth grade (I dropped out of nursery school, skipped kindergarten and cut out seventh grade), I had the exact same food for breakfast every single day: a glass of warm milk and a soft-boiled egg. Every single day for seven school years. It was enough to make me swear off breakfast altogether; in fact I rarely have breakfast unless it’s 2 in the afternoon and I want tapsilog. Which would make it brunch.

What was the logic behind the milk-and-egg routine? Probably because they were children during World War II and remembered food scarcity, my parents had a profound reverence for eggs. Protein, they said, you need protein. As for milk, they said it was “the complete food”. Also, I always had trouble getting up every morning and had to rush to make it to school on time. They figured this was the fastest yet most nutritious meal I could have.

So every morning, after putting on my school uniform, I would trudge to the kitchen with the air of the condemned on the way to the gibbet, to face my breakfast. I liked milk and eggs well enough, it was having to eat at such an early hour that I was against. Not to mention the sameness. I would try to get out of breakfast by pretending that I would throw up, but my acting never convinced my mother.

Thanks to my protein-obsessed parents, I’ve probably ingested enough cholesterol for a few lifetimes. Assume five school days a week times four weeks in a month times ten months in a school year times seven years of egg breakfasts: that’s a total of 1400 eggs. Not counting hard-boiled egg snacks, egg salad sandwiches, and omelets.An egg a day throughout my childhood—I must have leche flan running in my veins.

Yesterday we went to lunch at Shinjuku in Makati Avenue. I hadn’t been there in years, but I used to like their food and the place has a good reputation. Like many “authentic” Japanese restaurants in Manila they don’t have a printed menu but a photo album of their dishes. Uro, fountain of useless knowledge, ordered a miso ramen and gyoza; I had the udon ramen. I must point out that neither of us has a delicate constitution, and Uro likes to try hole-in-the-wall canteens where the food is bright atomic yellow with turmeric.

Lunch was alright, we had no complaints. Less than an hour later we’re sitting in traffic when Uro passes out (good thing neither of us was driving). I get home 15 minutes later, put a DVD in the player, and before I can hit Play, I lose consciousness. I wake up an hour later feeling zonked, try to read, get through a few pages, and fall asleep again. It was past 9pm when I finally got up.

Today we compared notes and Uro said he was still barely conscious. It must’ve been the MSG in the ramen that knocked us out. Ironically Uro often points out that MSG is not evil, and that glutamates occur naturally in wine and cheese. I feel like I was at lunch with the Ativan gang.
I have to take a nap again.

saffyonshelf2.JPG, originally uploaded by Koosama.

Head Cat in Emotional Weather Report, today in the Star.

Cats always behave like kittens towards their humans (their adoptive parents). Saffy believes she is tiny. Today she’s cranky because after an impressive start at Roland Garros, her father (Marat Safin) lost in straight sets in the second round and hinted that he may retire from professional tennis.

By the way does anyone know who the local distributor of Jonny Cat kitty litter is? My cats like the product (for them to poop on). If the brand needs endorsers, my cats volunteer.