Saturday smiles

Netnet Camomot

“COME Saturday morning, I’m goin’ away with my friend/We’ll Saturday-spend till the end of the day, just I and my friend/We’ll travel for miles in our Saturday smiles and then we’ll move on/But we will remember long after Saturday’s gone.”

But last Saturday morning, all I wanted to do was sleep. A cool morning, with birds chirping and the trees outside the window looking greener than usual, the start of a weekend is always a welcome respite in the midst of Christmas parties, Christmas parties, and Christmas parties. Unless there’s another Christmas party on that Saturday morning.

Yes, groups may gather in a hotel ballroom—or function room—for the cheaper Christmas breakfast. A party, no matter what time it’s held, is always a party. Take your pick—breakfast, brunch, lunch, afternoon snacks, dinner, post-dinner coffee and drinks.

Since Christmas is the time to indulge and have a selective amnesia for diets—Diet? What diet?—there are no rules on how it’s done. Except for the exchange gift which can be confusing to senior-moment partygoers like, hmmm, me.

One of the ways gifts are exchanged is by forming a circle or oblong, depending on the venue’s available space, with a leader barking instructions on where that gift should go—to the left, to the right, to the right again, to the left again, then exchange with the one farthest from you, to the left again, to the right again, exchange with the person farthest from you again, and so on and so forth, ad infinitum, ad nauseam, which could result to at least one person not having a gift in his hands.

Three of our high school batchmates opted to leave that oblong once they had some other people’s gifts in their hands, to save themselves from the confusion. One batchmate began to ponder if putting numbers on the gifts and picking a number from a glass bowl would be easier, but there’s no thrill in that. I’d still pick confusion over order for the exchange gift—for the laughter and the amazement: the batchmate two ladies away from me ended up with my gift despite the confusion and the many exchanges with the ones farthest from us. Go figure. Then, there’s the batchmate who somehow always ended up with the gift whose wrapping was starting to fall apart in the confusion. She eventually had that gift in the final round. Yup, meant to be!

Our high school batch had two lechons, with much thanks to some most generous sponsors. The buffet table was also groaning with the yummiest beefsteak, menudo, pancit, macaroni salad, veggie salad, puto, empanada, etc.—ordered, or specialties of batchmates. Suman, buko pie, and boiled peanuts were distributed for each table. There was red wine which produced heat that made our bodies remember Sharon Cuneta’s portable rechargeable fan in “Unexpectedly Yours.”

Our section’s performance for the program was impromptu—we didn’t know what to do until we were standing front and center at the venue, and the daughter of a batchmate appeared in front of us and began to dance—at least we had the brains to understand that we should follow her choreography.

Two sections were prepared, complete with costumes. The rest were as “prepared” as us. But these performances are for fun, nothing serious there—we laugh and dance the night away, with the help of a lady dance instructor. Singing was another option we considered, but we couldn’t agree on what Christmas song to sing.

There’s this auto shop in uptown Cagayan de Oro. Each time I pass by late at night, a group of guys would be practicing a dance number there, and the first thought that comes to mind is, Christmas party contest. You may have also seen other groups from other companies practicing at Plaza Divisoria, Gaston Park, and McArthur Park a.k.a. Vicente de Lara Park. Surely, our high school batch is not among them. Haha! The actual performance is usually our first practice.

Traffic is one thing we want to avoid on our way to these parties. Before Friday night, I and a classmate decided to go together to the high school party since we both live uptown. We had to decide on the time to leave for lesser traffic downtown. She was texting with, “Dili man ta highway agi, sa likod,” which I thought would be J.R. Borja Extension. And then, she continued to text with this, “Sa Calaanan ta agi.”

The Wonder Woman—that’s me—began to wonder: Calaanan for a Santa Cecilia, Gusa venue?

I only understood everything when she texted, “Suok pa jud” to describe the venue’s location, and specifically added, “Apovel.”

My duh brain replied: “Apovel diay siya? I thought Gusa.”

Bwahahaha! The senior moment strikes again! The result of not reading instructions.

FYI to the non-Cagayanon, Apovel is located in Bulua, a barangay far far away from Gusa, like North and South Poles, considering the traffic. And Friday was Bulua’s fiesta for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. A niece, who lives in Bulua, did invite us to their fiesta. If only I have a twin, I could have sent her to the fiesta—that niece is known for her yummiest specialties, she has an eatery in their neighborhood where she can display those dishes, and her daughter has also learned to cook at such a young age.

Christmas doesn’t revolve only around food. It’s also the time to remember family, friends, and people who have decided to choose us through thick and thin—figuratively, and literally through weight gain, weight loss, and weight maintenance. They’re truly our circle, the ones who always have our back and with whom “We’ll travel for miles in our Saturday smiles.”