BUTONG PAKWAN BLUES

Crack! (chew...swish...) Crack! (chew...swish...) Crack! (chew...swish...)

These were the sounds that accompanied our frenzied foray into the Bay Area. We were running late for my prenatal appointment at Kaiser. I was very lucky to get this appointment at all because my insurance expires at the end of the month, which just happens to be tomorrow, a SATURDAY at that, and Kaiser makes no OB-Gyn appointments on Saturday.

Crack! (chew...swish...) Crack! (chew...swish...)

I look at the source of my stress. My husband, Lorenzo, is absently digging into his butong pakwan stash on the floor between us. He finds a perfect seed and positions it between his front teeth, blissfully unaware of my growing irritation.

Crack! (chew...)

In spite of my annoyance, I couldn't help but be dazzled by my husband's dental prowess. I come from a long line of denture-wearers on my Dad's side. So far, I have managed to hang on to all my teeth, owed to a religious regimen of furious flossing twice a day. My teeth would never be able to withstand a siege of watermelon seeds, such as I am bearing witness to at the moment.

(swish...)

Lorenzo discards the shells on a separate plastic bag, precariously perched on our cup holder. He flashes his pearly whites at me, happily digging into the Ziplock bag on the floor between us. The bag is still quite full of butong pakwan from Divisoria, one of the pasalubongs from our cousins BatJay and BatJet, who recently visited us from the Orient. "Serves you right", my taray nanay alter ego castigated me, "You had first pick of the goods. You should've gone with two bags of kornik."

Crack! (chew...swish...)

I had to do something or I would go out of my mind. That rhythmic cracking sound was forming cracks in my shell of sanity. To make things worse, all this cracking and swishing was occupying his right hand, which meant he was driving with his LEFT, and Lorenzo is right-handed. I steal a glance at the speedometer. We were doing 90 mph, a full 25 miles above the speed limit. This was obviously nothing new to him, my husband being a seasoned commuter. He one-handedly wove in and out of traffic with a deftness and dexterity borne of daily drives to a distant workplace 80 miles away.

Crack! (chew...swish...)

I was getting quite angry at myself for being so agitated. I tried to calm myself. I obviously had no problem with his speeding, since we were running late anyway, and I never complained about his one-handed driving when he would hold my hand during our long drives. It was those blasted butong pakwans! I glanced down at the offending bag. What was it about these seeds that transported my husband into a trancelike state, sharpening his senses to the repeated rhythm of Crack! (chew...swish...), the very sound a mantra in itself?

I absently pick one out. Without even knowing it, the seed makes its way into my mouth and its sweet saltiness thrills a path down my tongue. I maneuver it between my molars and...

Crack! (chew...swish...)

I guess the darn things aren't too bad after all...

WELCOME TO MY PIED-A-TERRE!

Prada Mama is beside herself. Her two websites are now up-and-running, thanks to the generosity of her benefactors, Ate Sienna and Super BatJay. It's been hard being homeless these past few weeks, but now I can't wait to try out my new digs at Pansitan.net!

To those of you who used to seek shelter at 87 Gentle Street, don't worry, the old homestead is still there. I consider this new site my pied-a-terre in the city, a place I would go to when I feel I have to jot down a word or two. Pero huwag pong mabahala, at hindi po nag-alsa balutan si Prada Mama at tuluyan nang nilisan ang kaniyang country estate sa 87 Gentle Street. Kung nais ninyong magbasa ng mala-nobelang litanya, naroon pa rin siyang naghihintay sa inyo. Bagong facelift pa nga, courtesy of my favorite Manilena, Ate Sienna!

Kaya welcome sa aking bagong site, pero huwag isnabin ang luma! Pareho silang bukas sa inyo sa kanilang bagong "gated community", ang PANSITAN.NET!