I remember I was in 2nd grade, around 1993, when our class adviser called the top students in front and handed each one of us what seemed like a certificate. It turned out to be a ticket to the Royal London Circus, something I had never heard of before.

Fast forward two years, another circus came to town: the All-Russian Circus. It was nothing like the first. This one had animal performers. I still remember seeing a puma, kangaroo, and a camel for the first time.

Unfortunately, the All-Russian Circus ended in a fiasco. The performers and animals were unable to fly back home after being duped by a local promoter, and they had to set up a mini zoo in Bajada to raise the money needed for their return. Since then, no circus has ever visited the town.

Both circuses left such a lasting impression that, even after all these years, some of the stunts are still vivid in my memory. They were surreal and magical. 

So when the Euro Xtreme Circus came to town almost thirty years later, I was eager to relive that magic all over again.

When we got to the Davao Global Township and saw the huge red-and-white striped tent, it totally brought back memories. I felt like that 8-year old kid all over again.

We were seated in the VIP area—right near the action. It’s funny how I had to avoid eye contact, especially with the clown, hoping to stay off his radar and out of whatever crazy act he had planned. My friend Olivia, who was sitting right next to me, wasn’t as lucky and got pulled into a silly dance.

Bless the clown though. Because every time things got too intense, he’d show up to remind us to breathe and loosen up after being so tense from the death-defying stunts happening right in front of us.

A friend posted this on Facebook. 

Out of concern, I reacted to the post with a "care" emoji and asked if he's okay—which was met with a "haha" reaction followed by an "OK kaayo!"

I love online shopping and traveling, that's why it is imperative that I return to work to continue funding my hobbies.

So I looked into the job market, and I was mildly horrified.

The last time I had a job interview was in 2016. That was eight freaking years ago.

Plus, in my line of work, most companies ask for a strong portfolio that showcases all the work you've done. I've only had one web development project since I resigned in 2020.

A few Sundays ago, I decided to hit the road to fetch Jan in General Santos City. Honestly, with the cost of fuel consistently going up where a 500-peso worth of gas won't get you anywhere, I could have just let him commute because that would have been obviously waaaay cheaper. 

But after years of mothering a tornado trio without a nanny, I thought I'd take this opportunity to escape all kinds of duties. Savor at least two and a half hours of freedom that comes with going on a solo drive, 140 kms away from home. 

No kids, no chores, no routine, no chaos, no emails, no stress.

And no one to tell me how fast I can go—not a city ordinance, not a speed camera, nor a speed limit sign. Except, the husband, Jan.

Two of my friends have had their photos used by imposters to scam people on Facebook just recently. 

Friend #1 learned about her imposter when it tried to sell baby stuff on Facebook and her friend from another city saw the listing. The imposter's fake profile was reported and taken down before anyone could fall prey. 

As for Friend #2, it was already too late when she found out about it. She was getting virtually sucker-punched by angry and frustrated victims after realizing they had been duped into sending their hard-earned money for nothing. Her face was posted on different groups, labeled with the most demeaning words while the real perp got away with it.

Well, that's scary.

This is not the first time I've heard of it. It happens all the time and it could happen to anyone—especially us, ordinary people whose faces are not easily recognizable by a lot of people.

But you know what scares me more?

The past few days had been quite a challenge because I was left alone to deal with two wild toddlers and a teen with raging puberty hormones. And as I watched them destroy the house while I slowly sipped my coffee, feet up, I had been thinking about how I will be rewarded for being great at maintaining a healthy marriage by allowing the husband to go on a three-day trip because I believed he needed to have some fun too.

I mean, Solen Heussaff gave Nico Bolzico no more than 24 hours to fly to Davao to hike Mt. Apo and back, while Jan was granted 3 freakin' days. How lucky can he get? I suppose he must have thought of rewarding me with something I truly deserve like an ultimate steak night date or a Vespa. The latter is mostly preferred, thank you.

And guess what?

I did not leave with a basket full of bright, colorful, and aesthetically pleasing stuff that are absolutely unnecessary. 

I could have done it, you know. The husband was a thousand miles away and no one else can dissuade me from buying whatever useless knickknack I fancy. All I have to do is swipe this little devil. 

I don't really get my fingernails done. 

My hands look too manly that no amount of hand spa and nail color can make it ladylike. My day to day activities are also not very friendly for long, prettyfied, manicured nails (I wash my children's bum, no thanks). So yeah, a trip to the nail salon is rather pointless.

But today, I went to get a manicure in preparation for an event this weekend. And while at it, I decided to have a softgel extension instead of a regular polish. Because why not? I will be free of kids and unwashed dishes for three days. Yay! 

I grew up in an era where the concept of Wishlist did not exist. In those days, whenever there was an "exchange gifts" during Christmas parties, the giver carried the burden of gift-giving—one that I carried ever since I started high school.