< Notes...

When mum messages me, no matter what, I reply right away. Now, when the topic of the conversation is food—food that she cooked—I almost-literally fly.

And then an hour or so later, with a belly full, and a happy heart, and from the comfyness of our couch:

She says she is lucky to have me. I say it is the complete opposite: I am lucky to have her!

There is no better way to start my Valentine’s Day than sipping coffee next to my Monkey, and then going to auntie’s house to replace all her light bulbs—yes, you read right, all of them! Coming home with a white chocolate mocha with extra whip for Horsie tops it off.

To make amends for this, mum called me last night. “Come help me eat some food”, she said. Funny, I was about to drive over her house to drop off a case of beer, and a bag of her favourite coffee. I guess we forgave each other. Food was good, and I brought a whole flan home. Maybe priests should visit more often.

Once again, organised religion is getting in my way. My very sacred Sunday morning with Mum and Ông, and our holy coffee time, has been excommunicated by the visit of “the priests”, as she wrote to me. Maybe I am a curmudgeon, but having someone visiting uninvited, and impromptu, doesn’t fly with me unless they are very close. I doubt these “fathers” are.

After so much wait for iOS 26.1, and the inclusion of Vietnamese for use in Live Translation, I feel nothing short of dissappointed. Mum says the translation is an abomination, and begged me to, please, not to use it. Sometimes she gets confused with the service being used, but the end result is what matters. She messaged me, using her classical english:

“Stop writing in Vietnamese. Translate from google, totally different from what you think or what you want to say.”

Mum tells me, while I wait for ông to get ready, “Take him with you, otherwise his mind will keep going bad. You know, if you leave a book on a table, untouched for a long time, it will be covered with dust. Same will happen to his mind.”

Ông tells me, while we walk, “Mum is loosing her mind. She didn’t remember Trang’s mother was in the hospital recently.” I ROFLMAO in my mind, but softly smile and nod.

An old underwear, just like any other old cloth, is very comfy to wear. I am sure you know what I am talking about. Yet, as with everything else in life, they have a finite shelf life. So, as I threw an old one away today, I remembered what my mum once told me:

“Always make sure to wear a new underwear when you go out, in case something happens to you, and are taken to a hospital. You don’t want to be ashamed having found wearing an old, beat up, one, do you?”

I never challenged her advise; I simply listened and nodded. I am absolutely sure, though, that if found in such situation, that would be the least of my worries.

When I was in the military, I remember I once saw a fellow platoon mate wearing a nicely starched pass uniform (the one used when allowed to leave the base). On my next pass home I asked my mum if she could starch mine, which she did from there on. Today I recalled with love, and sadness, how much our parents (especially our mums) do for us throughout our lives. Waiting for “Mother’s Day”, or “Father’s Day”, to make mums and dads feel special doesn’t really cut it.

At the risk of being labeled a boomer—something kids already do, anyway—I have to say that the music from the 80s and 90s beats the one from the 2000s, and the 2010s, so far. It reminds me what my mum and dad used to say about the music of their time. Every generation, pretty much the same.

I wish everyone was like mum, when it comes to be on guard, and suspicious, about everything Internet. I have given her the cookie-cutter talk about Internet security, in simple terms, but I have always told her, “If you have any doubts, you can always call me, and I will come to help you.” And she sure does! At least once every couple of weeks I get such call, or message. Today was one of those days.

As a bonus I get fed as well. I am not sure if ever mentioned it, but mum’s cooking is second only to partner’s. Of course, I tell each the same. They really are both wonderful.

I seldom call family, or friends; I message. When I call, though, it is always associated with a sense of urgency. I mean, it is not 911, but if I call someone it is because I need to talk to them. People who know me should know that, right?

Well, mum lives in a whole different universe.

It is my last day. I knew all along it was coming; after all, nothing lasts forever. It’s been great, though, I truly enjoyed the ride: coffees with mum each day, lazying around afterwards. What would you do if today was your last vacation day, and work was waving at you, just a few hours ahead? Would you greet it with anxiety, joy, acceptance?

I often wonder what my first mum would have blurted out on notes like this, if she’d been born in this technological era. I can’t picture my dad enthusiastically participating, but mum definitely would have. My current mum would have too, if she was younger.

The Ring doorbell application for iOS—I have no reason to doubt this applies to Android too but I can’t attest it, as I don’t have an Android device—is horrible. The so called “Ring - Always Home” unintuitive interface, unreliability, and their push to be “social”, makes it an experience from hell.

I spent close to an hour configuring and fine-tuning Mum’s and Dad’s phones so that they are not constantly awakened during the night or bothered during the day with notifications and dings. In the process, I had to delete and reinstall the app, wrestle with their insistence on having MFA, and a bunch of other rubbish. Ugh!

I wrote elsewhere about mum’s chicken, and her adventures: how she came to be a guest in mum’s house, how she left one day, and how she came back to roost. Now it’s the time to write, with sadness—yes, mum and I were quite fond of that chicken—that the chicken has died. She was a good chicken, and kept mum entertained, and active. She will be missed.

Now I know how my mum felt seeing her beloved actors and actresses become old, and dropping off big screens. It is a mix of melancholy, and worry.

I feel bad when I come to mum’s and she offers me a beer. I buy beer for her, and by drinking one or two, it makes me feel guilty. In such case, if I gave her a 24 bottles case I, indeed, only gave her 23, or 22.

“Going to mum’s to eat whatever ông (dad) cooked for me.” I tell Kim. “Wish me luck!”

Update: 12 Oct 2025 @ 14:23:50

Meal was very good! He made sweet sticky rice, and shredded lemongrass chicken. That, and a beer, completed dinner for me today. Stuffed!

Went to mum’s to have coffee. I do this whenever I have time, because I like spending time with her, not so much for the coffee. That’s just a bonus. Of course, soon after I arrive I get this…

It never fails! Yes, I order it with extra whipped cream. And yes, it will never be enough of it. “Did you ask for extra whipped cream?” — “Yes, I did.” — “It doesn’t look like having anything extra at all!” 🤦‍♂️

Mum’s 79th birthday was the last day I drank alcohol (one beer). I shall not touch alcohol ever again. Not a grudge against it, I just didn’t like it much to begin with.

Mum is 79 years old today. Wow! I know it is not a super advanced age, but I wish I could get to her age, with her health.