Netnet Camomot THE Chinese New Year is a chance to reassess your New Year’s resolutions. Any updates in that department? Have you lost weight? Read books? Decluttered? If you have gained weight, haven’t read a single book, and the room is still a mess, well, you’re not alone. People make resolutions all the time, their way of saying goodbye to a year that’s about to go pfft. It’s easy to write down resolutions to get that list out of your way while moving forward to the media noche and the lechon, dinuguan, ham… You promised—that media noche would be your last uncontrolled feast. All the other feasts thereafter would be, uh, controlled—no rice, no carbs, no soda, no sugar, no flour. But here you are, it’s going to be Jan. 31 tomorrow, and you’re still eating rice and all the other food items you promised to avoid. It’s easier to follow the new healthy lifestyle at home. It’s when you’re out of the house the “healthy” in the lifestyle is forgotten. Fried rice! Yay! Sans rival! Yay! Soda! Yay! Deep conversation is usually better with food in between you and the person you’re talking with. Better that than, hmmm, tequila! But tequila is still the best, yes? Only the senior-moment age is keeping you from that indulgence. Promises are made to be broken. Still, that’s not an excuse to break promises, and US President Donald Trump is now the epitome of that—he will build a wall on the Mexican border, and he has already signed documents to fulfill the other promises he made during the campaign. Try recalling promises you made in the past—which ones have you broken so far? You have to be firm in staying true to yourself, that’s the promise to keep since you may have to modify resolutions on your way to the next buffet table. January is the month when the tummy still remembers the Christmas season, once it sees lechon, even if it’s lechon manok, it begins to crave and churn, complete with the audible sound of hunger, and when that sound manages to be heard from Aparri to Jolo while everyone is quietly reciting the prayer before meals, it’s time to consider eating a little snack before that prayer. The tummy can easily get used to feasts. It expands and once that expansion is not filled, it complains. Much like a mall that has expanded, only to end up with no tenants—you notice the vacancy, and suddenly, there’s this urge to stand in the middle of that expansion and yell and wait for the echo. Malls and retail stores are here to stay, though, in Pinas. The mall has become our park, for this one reason: a mall has air-conditioning, the park has none. And the park may have mosquitoes and robbers and an extrajudicial killing or tokhang operation where any Pinoy can be collateral damage. The mall has its own risks, too—try counting the number of jewelry shops that have attracted robbers in there. Scary. Still, not enough to stop you from malling. Even eating out now tends to focus on fast food outlets, restos, and cafes inside malls. Convenience is the key. It’s a one-stop shop, and there’s a routine to that: eat, buy meds, enter the department store for goodies you may have forgotten that you need, go to the bookstore, buy groceries. If you’re hungry again after all the shopping, it’s back to that first item in the agenda: Eat. For me, the best place in any mall is the bookstore. It’s almost like someone in there is calling, Here, Kitty, Kitty. And I’m the kitty. Can’t resist. Books will always be among my best friends because they’re not toxic, they don’t betray, and they’re real. If only I have time to read them. Tsk tsk. The rainy morning last Saturday was the best time to read. It was the kind of weather that you woke up to, only to say, OK, back to sleep. A rainy Saturday morning is the next best thing to a rainy Sunday morning. It’s the morning after TGIF when a hangover is possible after all that, hic, tequila. There was a time when I thought rice, Spam, fried egg, and coffee were the perfect antidotes for a hangover. Only later did I realize to try tinolang isda with malunggay. The best way to avoid a hangover, though, is to avoid a drunken TGIF. No more alcohol. Yup, boring. But allows continuous functioning without that heavy cloud overhead. The earth has had enough already of heavy clouds and continuous rains, and last Saturday’s weather again alarmed Cagayanons who live in flood-prone areas. This has become a routine already since Sendong. The fear will only stop once every Cagayanon is settled in a non-flood-prone area. Yup, easy to say, but hard to do. But if Trump can build a wall on the Mexican border, anything is possible now. Former President Erap Estrada supposedly said, Weather-weather lang. Which could mean, what comes up must come down, and rock bottom means there’s no way but up. The Miss Universe coronation night today may awaken most of its candidates, too, to that line—weather-weather lang—as they display their most beautiful self, only to realize it’s still not enough for the judges. The beauty pageant candidate should know that the judging began the moment they arrived here in Pinas. Whoever stood out from among them during the preliminaries will have a good chance to be included in the 15 semi-finalists. If the new Miss Universe is not Miss USA, then, a non-American will have to stay in New York during her reign. In this age of a Mexican-border wall, will Trump allow that? Hmmm. People throughout the world have different skin colors and it’s beginning to look a lot like Trump prefers white. His wife, the First Lady Melania is an immigrant, complete with an accent when she speaks English. Trump must have forgotten that one fact. Anyway, it was Code Yellow last Saturday. In case you’re not aware of another important warning, jaundice for an ailing liver yellows the skin. So, if you were nursing a hangover on Saturday morning, Code Yellow may have meant way more than the bad weather.