Marfori: Odd times

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

"LOWBORN men are but a breath, the highborn are but a lie; if weighed on a balance, they are nothing; together they are only a breath." (Psalm 62:9)

It was 5:33 AM and I felt odd. After seven hours of sleep my mind was fogged, paralyzed, and unable to write anything. Perhaps it was the dearth of news, the uninspiring impeachment trial, and my mind fed up with thirteen days of CJ’s SALN and “your honors, please” that aggravated my festering writer’s block.

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By 5:35 AM, I was a hollow block like the prosecutions. By 5:57 AM, I was on a chopping block by the defense. And by quarter to six it was apparent that a stumbling block akin to Cuevas opioid suppression of colonic movement stops me from abusing the public with another onslaught of verbal diarrhea for which Maid Miriam is nonpareil.

Trials of any kind clutter the mind. Since I couldn’t sift through the numbers in the impeachment I tried sifting in the kitchen, my turf, my family claims. It was the noisiest place in the house, yet it was where I found peace, inspiration, and quiet. Quite odd, but true.

I decided to bake Mother Baker’s Angel Food Cake. I weighed and sifted five times 157 grams sugar, 5 grams salt, 5 grams of cream of tartar, 6 grams of baking powder without subtraction. I separated 9 egg whites without inclusion. Whew, unlike CJ’s SALN! I didn’t go ballistics to discover I didn’t have cake flour. I had all purpose flour and all I needed was cornstarch to make cake flour. The ratio is ¾ cup of flour to 2 tablespoons of cornstarch. But I had no cornstarch too. I didn’t scream, just waited for help.

But Pam, my helper was still asleep. Pam aka Paulino is gay and is particular about his beauty sleep. His sleep weighs more than 2 tablespoonfuls of cornstarch. I’m not wont to disrupt his sleep just because my mind was fuzzy to write and I was baking instead. Albeit he’ll understand an early errand for he watches the mind-numbing trial.

While waiting I decided to make pancake from scratch — only to discover I had no evaporated milk. Unperturbed, I mixed 1 1/2 cups water with ½ cup powdered milk. Again to disturb Pam or even Meean, the laundrywoman who never cared about beauty or sleep or the impeachment for an errand, is not my wont. Meean is gay too.

I wanted Pam to be a nurse, but his dream was to be a Hair Stylist. For six months he left the house at 3:00 PM on MWF for his hair thingies. Then, we had to contend with reheated food for dinner that was cooked at 1:00 PM. The same opportunity was accorded Dennis, while studying in high school, until his HRM college course at the University of Mindanao. Dennis is gay as well.

It was 7:00 AM. Pam was about to be freed from work that day after buying the cornstarch earlier and cleaning up my mess. By then half of the pancakes were demolished and the angel food cake baked and hanging perfectly on the cooling rack.

Pam was all set for another skills training program in Automotive Mechanics Course. The whole family was supportive, assuring him that "Pam's Hair and Automotive Shop" is not so odd. Miguel, our joker, was quick to add, "Have a car wax and get a hair wax free, we buff cars and bouffant hairs, motor oil change, and hair oil treatment while you wait."

I like oddballs and odd numbers—for 3, 5, 7 are biblical, but that’s another story. I wonder why men in positions of power want things even or to get even when all weighed in a balance are but a breath. But that’s another story too.

Ooops, I forgot to mention I whisked a crime burlee from the 9 unused yolks. They trembled perfectly in the 7 rameskins by 7:37 AM waiting to be torched.

I also forgot how I managed to end this odd column at 7:57 AM, three minutes before work time.