THE TWELVE DAYS OF DFA POSTS AND OFFICES CHRISTMAS GREETINGS

I had so much with this last year, I thought I'd do it again. Everybody now, and a one and a two and a . . .

On the First Day of Christmas, Vancouver PCG gave to me,

A Prom King and a Prom Queen . . .

On the Second Day of Christmas, Pampanga RCO gave to me,

Two Versions of the Same Card . . .

On the Third Day of Christmas, Madrid PE gave to me,

Three "What the..." Glee-like Poses . . .

On the Fourth Day of Christmas, Lucena RCO gave to me,

(Region) IV na landscape . . .

On the Fifth Day of Christmas, New York PCG gave to me,

The Fiiiiiiiiiiffffftthhhhh Avenue (Parol Project, that is) . . .

On the Sixth Day of Christmas, Moscow PE gave to me,

Six Babushka Dolls . . .

On the Seventh Day of Christmas. Lisbon PE gave to me,

Seven on a (reaaaalllly long) Staircase

On the Eighth Day of Christmas, the Coord Center gave to me,

Eight Signatures fo' cash, 'yo . . .

On the Ninth Day of Christmas, Helsinki PE gave to me,

Nine Pinoy Popsicles . . .

On the Tenth Day of Christmas, Public Info Services gave to me,

Ten Op-ed Writers . . .

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas, Oslo PE gave to me,

Eleven Giant Winter Athletes (who are going to trample everyone underneath them! Run, people, RUN!) . . .

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, Yangon PE gave to me,

(Um. Wow. Just...wow) . . .

. . . and,

Eleven Giant Winter Athletes (who are going to trample everyone beneath them! Run, people, RUN!)

Ten Op-ed Writers

Nine Pinoy Popsicles

Eight Signatures fo' cash, 'yo

Seven on a (reaaaalllly long) Staircase

Six Babushka Dolls

The Fiiiiiiiiiiffffftthhhhh Avenue (Parol Project, that is)

(Region) IV na landscape

Three "What the.." Glee-like poses

Two Versions of the Same Card

A Prom Kiiiiiiiing and a Prom Queeeeeeeeeeeen!!!!

Good show, good show! But where's London PE in all this? Well, stiff British upper lip and all that. We don't just irreverently join in any reindeer games. We're all about dignity and poise . . .

. . . and putting our faces faces on Christmas balls. Classy!

Maligayang Pasko at Maligo sa Bagong Taon!!!

THAT'S JUST HOW WE BOWL

Another weekend, another request to deliver "inspirational remarks." This time, we're at the Christmas party of a large FilCom Bowling association. I believe my speech went well enough, but I suppose that was all but guaranteed by the formidable number of bowling-related puns in my arsenal. The best one: lovingly referring to a pregnant lady as carrying "her own little bowling ball." The worst: making any "7-10" split metaphor. Just don't go there.

But what's this? People were not in fact rapturously applauding my speech, but rather the party's entertainment numbers? Who were these performers who had everyone (ahem) bowled over?

A musician who massaged the hell out of his guitar....

....and a re-telling of the club's history -- in old-school lakandiwang dula format.

I see. Those were freaking awesome, actually. Compared to the bowling club's entertainers, I wasn't such an "inspiration" after all. If anything, I caused everyone some des-(ahemmmmm ahemmmmm cough cough cough a-HEMMMMMMMM!)-spare.

THAT'S JUST HOW WE PAROL

The good people at Philippine Generations -- the big Fil-Brit youth organization I'm designated by the Embassy as liaison because, you know, I'm sooo youth -- came up with another fantastic event: a parol making workshop to usher in the Christmas season! In my welcome remarks, I mentioned how activities like these were great because they could make you feel like a carefree kid again.

HA! If only everyone knew of the painful childhood memories I had of crying during grade school WorkEd classes because I was one of those kids who was never good with his hands and couldn't make that goddam macramé spice rack to save his life. KAYA NGA NAGING ABOGADO EH!!!

Kidding aside, all that angst is still buried deep inside and will manifest later on is long gone and forgotten, and the workshop was genuine fun. Still, motor skills do not magically appear overnight (despite my letters to Santa), so my own parol's progression was slow, to say the least. The hardest part by far was getting the bamboo joints to stay in place. I was told by the traditionalist instructors present to never use any form of adhesive, and that everything could properly be held together by string, knots and good ol' concentration. With that sage advice, I was indeed able to complete the frame -- by using masking tape and begging one youth's mom to finish it for me.

And even with all that help, my parol still wasn't finished by the time the (five-hour) workshop ended, and was looking, ahem, a little asymmetrical. I just told everyone I was really going for the minimalist/abstract/impressionist/ironic look. (I was. I WAS!) Anyway, all the kids at the workshop were handed the same type of kit as I was, and we were all under the same time constraints, so it's not like anyone could come up with anything that beautiful or artistic...could they?

(....must...suppress...childhood...angst...memories...must)

THAT'S JUST HOW I ROLL

So I finally got the nerve to buy a used car and try driving around London. I thought a year of using pedestrian crossings painted with "Look Left (you idiot)" and "Look Right (you moron)" was enough training and conditioning for me to handle the whole driving-on-the-other-side-of-the-street thing. And you know what? It was. Right-hand steering is not as hard to get used to as I thought (although when getting in I sometimes still walk up to the passenger's side of the car; I just tell the LLDD-Hyphen-L I'm being a gentleman opening her door; she has yet to buy it).

You know what is fracking hard? Goddam roundabouts!! And goddam right turns!! I swear on Clark Griswold, I've gone miles out of my way because I can't properly time my lane crossovers without the help of stoplights. (made harder by the tears in my eyes from all the stressed-out crying)

Baby steps, baby steps. I am getting some experience under my belt making short trips around the neighborhood, going to grocery stores, and even travelling to the Embassy in central London on occasion. I even mustered enough courage to plan a trip with the LLDD-Hyphen-L to the beautiful English outlet stores countryside last weekend. When I woke up that morning, I went to the mirror, slapped myself in the face a few times, yelled "It's go time, fool!!", dressed with the same sense of purpose as a Rambo-gearing-up scene, stomped downstairs, kicked open the front door, and faced. . .

awwww...nag i-snow. That means the roads are all slippery, right? There's no sense in driving now...or until the end of winter next year, is there? No roundabout no cry, momma used to always say.