hourly photo – davao edition

A weekend spent laughing with friends about horribly-made Tagalog horror movies, discovering almond vanilla ice cream, and witnessing a special day in a friend’s life.

Day I

waiting for friends at the mactan international airport

waiting for friends at the mactan international airport

teeny tiny little plane

teeny tiny little plane

davao international airport

davao international airport

0723am

breakfast

wedding ceremony (groom only; bride not allowed inside)

wedding ceremony (groom only; bride not allowed inside)

after the ceremony (bride is now introduced to the crowd)

after the ceremony (bride is now introduced to the crowd)

satchmo's time to shine

satchmo's time to shine

why, hello there, david

why, hello there, david

dinner

dinner

riding at the back of a truck through chinatown

riding at the back of a truck through chinatown

*Chunks of time with no photographs were spent sleeping.

scraplink saturday

I’m off the radar today as I am on my way to Davao City for  a wedding of a friend. Assuming that the plane took off and that the cyclone has decided to head another way.

And I thought it’s a great plan to have a scraplink for someone I know whose wanderlust is as strong as Cebu Pacific’s goal to make travelling more accessible to everyone.

I give you VETLONGWALKS.

vet_Page_small

By the time this post is published, Vet, Line, Ley, and I will already be in Davao. We are here to attend the wedding of  a good friend we have not seen in ages.

By the time  this post is published, Vet is giving in to her wanderlust and I am giving in with her.

Enjoy her travels! I will be back on Monday  with photos.

mess

All the world’s a pin cushion, and all the men and women merely disasters waiting to happen.

When I was in high school, I used to cross stitch while watching TV with my mom. There were only the two of us since my sister was already away at college and dad worked out of town for 4 nights a week. My mom would always remind me not to use a corner of the couch as pin cushion as I might actually forget that I stuck a needle in there one day. I just nodded but continued doing it anyway. I reasoned that cross-stitching needles are blunt and I am not forgetful.

Boy, was I wrong.

One night, I saw my mom cleaning a fairly large scratch on her left thigh. You would think that the right combination of blood and guilt would make me learn my lesson.

I stopped cross stitching  in the living room, yes, but the lesson does not seem to be a long-term one. I still have this habit of leaving sharp things where people can accidentally have an encounter with them.

floor 1

floor 2

It’s a disease, perhaps? I should probably take care of those now instead of blogging.

these boots were made for posing

The Boy is addicted to shoe-shopping, it’s scary. In a few years, he will likely be buying shoes he won’t ever wear, much like a teacher he used to have. In a few years, our shoe racks will likely rival our bookshelves.

The only way to deal with the situation is to buy shoes myself.

Okay, I don’t know how that helps. All I know is that it eases the jealousy I feel when I see The Boy parading around the apartment in his new shoes. So yeah, in a  way, it helps.

Unlike him, however, I don’t buy ridiculously expensive pairs. After all, I am bored and thrifty; cheap yet chic is my game.

My latest acquisition is this pair of brown ankle boots. I am wearing them here with a dress (thrifted, too) that I will be wearing at a wedding next weekend. I could wear the boots, too, but 3-inch heels + 4-hour event in which I will be taking photos = poor feet.

boots 1

If I wear the boots, I will look like this after a few hours:

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