After the first Saturday Mass at Christ the King Seminary,Quezon City, an old woman asked me for a blessing. While she bowed her head, I took from her the plastic container that looked like a holy water bottle and started sprinkling.  But nothing came out except for a drop on her hand. To my surprise, it was oil, not holy water.  Whew, what a disaster had I sprinkled oil all over her white dress!


I took the Dagupan bus going to Manila. The conductor asked the old man sitting  in front of me, ‘Saan po?’ ‘Tarlac, Senior Citizen,’the old man replied.  The conductor then turned to me and asked, ‘Kayo po?’ ‘Manila, Junior Citizen,’  I answered, stressing ‘junior’Smiling, he said in Ilocano, ‘Adayo pa,’  ‘You’ve a long way to go yet!’No discount for me? 


My two priest companions and I stopped at one of the eateries in Boracay beach.  I asked for a plate, a spoon and a fork. As the waitress brought them, my two companions  looked at me suspiciously. Not minding them, I brought out our leftovers from lunch  and feasted on it. They refused to join me even ifI was doing perfect recycling in the  name of Justice and Peace and Integrity of Creation Ministry. 


I accompanied Stephen, a seminarian, to his hometown in Lezo, Aklan.  The day was hot so I decided to go outside their house and practice songs  for Holy Saturday. I didn’t notice that there were lovebirds in a cage beside me.  Stephen came out and asked me what happened to their love birds. They  stopped chirping. I said,‘Stephen, I believe they’re mesmerized by my angelic voice.’