“Then came October, full of merry glee.” ~ Edmond Spenser
Fearing that I will miss the birthday party for the month of October while I was walking the Camino, they waited until most of us are present. We celebrated it in style: costume birthday party just in time for Halloween.
It was all start cast: Mini Mouse, Ginger of Gillian’s Island, Captain James of Star Trek, Ghost Buster, The Venetians, Race Car Driver, Pirate, Nemo, Nurse (a real one), Lulu the gypsy fortune-teller, M&M, Pikachu, Priest (a real one) and much more.
The leading person who turned 60 years old is my brother who looks like David Suzuki.
Lulu, the gypsy fortune-teller is a very memorable character in our family life. She was my mother’s friend. How she suddenly appeared in our life remains a mystery.
Mother has a way of helping out people.
I remember how Mother helped Lulu take a bath. Lulu was apparently so dirty that the water turned brown. She doesn’t speak our language and we only spoke English to her. She came in and out of our apartment, bee-lined to the kitchen, helped herself out on any food to eat and made herself at home even Mother was not around. Lulu called my mom Mother as well. Mother is Mother to everybody and everyone.
Having had her fill, she takes out her Tarot card and starts reading them. Talking to herself mostly and suddenly, she will say, Mother is here. Huh? No she’s not, I said. Next thing, Mother walks in the door. How did she do that is beyond me.
Lulu gives Mother a reading whether she likes it or not. Mother doesn’t mind. I don’t know if Mother believes in fortune-telling or palm reading because it is quite contrary to our belief system.
One day, Lulu read in the card that we are going far away to another land. Mother did not believe on that either. And it did happen. How did she do that?
Back to the party. The Filipino tradition, if it’s our birthday, we are responsible for throwing in the party, bring our cake and eat it, too. We do not wait for anybody to throw us a surprise party. We do not wait for anybody. We let the whole world knows that it’s our birthday and we invite as many people as we can to help us celebrate. Celebrate we did.
As for my costume, I wore my hiking gear; boots, poles, backpack, hat, waterproof jacket and pants, iPad in a red leader pouch, a camera, gloves, sunglasses, water bottle, etc. Gosh, cannot believe I carried these for 15 days. Eventually, I had to divest myself since it was boiling inside the house with all these characters and cooking going at the same time.
The cake is always gigantic. There was no blowing of the candles because most of us are sick of colds and we definitely want to keep the germs to ourselves.
Good times, good times. Happy Birthday to us.
Related link: Tenth month of the year
This is blocking the view.
Good thing summer is over.
Think of it this way, he has from October to May to hit the gym and start working out. If he remains the same, Paul Sullivan has something to say about it.
You’ll have to fake it.
Turning that spare tire into a six-pack will take the whole summer and you’ll be ready for your beach close-up just in time to head back to school, fool.
There are a number of things you can do, like suck your stomach in as you stroll, all nonchalant, along the shore. If anyone asks why your face is so red, just tell them you burn easily from the neck up. Like all those other red-faced shore stalkers going by.
Then there’s the briefest-possible-moment-of-exposure tactic. Just drag your beach blanket and mummy kit as close to the water as you can without being swamped, then disrobe quickly, flashing your bi- or mono-kini, and then immerse yourself up to your neck as quickly as possible.
To get out of the water successfully, repeat in reverse. Do not, like Daniel Craig, emerge from the surf in glorious 3D slow motion. You’ll scare the little kids on the beach.
Make sure to do whatever you can to avoid the inverse beach fitness rule. That is: The less fit you are, the more flesh you expose. Don’t be that guy with the beach ball for a belly and the speedo. If that bikini didn’t look quite right in that artfully lit Swimco mirror, how do you think it’s going to look out here, in the stark light of day?
I don’t want to cramp your style, but you don’t have any, especially when your body is a gallery of all your deepest thoughts written in flesh. Tattoos, even Angelina Jolie’s — especially Angelina Jolie’s — don’t make it better. You look like human graffiti.
There are some people, of course, who look fantastic on the beach, all fresh and tousled and tanned. They’re called children. They don’t count.
Paul Sullivan is a writer for a local newspaper, Metro News.