I Spent My Monday...

Domestication has, without doubt, sparked my interest in cooking. Because, I find myself browsing the cookery section in the library and the food magazines in the local convenience store. Whatever happened to those fashion magazines and my once-upon-a-time regular unhealthy doses of US tabloids, I am clueless.

One magazine caught my eye this hot Monday afternoon. It has 2 of my greatest loves - food & travel. Pages after pages of fantastic recipes and good eats.  And coincidentally a few good pages of valuable travel information I just so happen to need. Life is wonderful when things just fall into place, isn't it?

I spent the rest of the afternoon flipping the pages of this magazine. In search of a recipe that contains ingredients which are readily available in our newly done-up kitchen. Much to my delight, there is one. And it will exhaust bulk of one item in my cabinet I badly want to get rid of. I couldn't be happier.

The timer of the oven sounded. The kitchen was filled with a rich coconut aroma. My coconut tart was ready and had a nice golden brown exterior but soggy interior. Taste good still though. Having said that, nobody was keen to give it a try.

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Down Memory Lane

Seeing you brought back those memories she had painfully tucked away to the back of her mind. Neither has she forgotten, nor have the memories faded. They simply lay dormant, waiting to erupt one day. She looked at you - your eyes, your nose, your everything. And realised she misses you still and loves you so.

The afternoon was surreal - it was a trip down memory lane. I could still feel the butterflies as if it was day one and couldn't understand why. But this time round, those butterflies were accompanied by a strong aching in my heart. 

We talked like we've never been apart. We looked at each other with that familiar gentleness in our eyes. We reminisced and we laughed. We bickered and we teased. At some point, I thought I noticed the redness in your eyes. Were they getting watery just like mine? Or was I just imagining?

We hugged good-bye at the train station. With all my strength, I suppressed my emotions and many words. All I could mutter was an apt "have a safe trip".

As I walked home alone, I slipped back into nostalgia. Questions and images were causing havoc in my tiny brain. Again, those questions which could never be answered and those images which could never be re-created in reality, engulfed me. Tears welded in my eyes. I couldn't hold them back any longer.

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My Baby

He is my baby, 

So precious and dear.

So close to my heart,

He's as good as my own blood.

I love him to bits 

And spoil him insanely,

This, I make it a daily task,

And I do it willingly.

I'll never abandon him, 

And he'll never forsake me. 

For he too, love me to bits,

And will never break my heart.

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HandyWoman

An extremely exhausting week it has been. The house was filled with noise pollution coming from the drilling, sanding and hammering. Not to mention the occasional chatters between the guys (and mostly, my mum inclusive) that undoubtedly added boost to the noise level.

Having the contractors over to give our kitchen a facelift doesn't mean we are in the clear in terms of time and labour. Mum made sure we (or at least the "free-est" one at home) are fully utilised during the process. 

Without a job but rich with time, I am the handywoman Mum conveniently exploited around the house. But in exchange for the exploitation, she suffered nagging, criticism and just more criticism from her beloved daughter(s). Going into details would probably result in a not-so-nice long spew of what happened - which could only be described with one word - NASTY.

Over the last week or so, I have painted, cleaned, packed, and unpacked. Australia has trained me well. In fact, it sprouted my independence and revealed my hidden skills. Fixing the furniture, setting up the washing machine, changing the light bulbs, cooking my own meals and doing my own laundry were tasks I never knew I could (and would) do before leaving this puny island. Bangkok domesticated me further and made me realised the things I would do for the man I love and my small family.

If I can do everything myself and am indeed the handywoman I say I am, what are men for? Better to do without?

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Glue Addiction

If an email could have catastrophic effects in my little world, a text or online instant messaging session might just bring the same tiny world crumbling down. But last night, my world didn't crumble. It shook (and violently, it did) but stood intact.

The disruptive after-effects could not be avoided. The usual - emotions, thoughts and all are badly messed up. They are scattered all over the place and the owner feels lost and is clueless. She wonders, "Where to start and how to pick the pieces up (again)?"

But this time round, you added another task to my already-long list of "to-dos". And a task which is too huge for my scattered brain to handle. A decision I have to make. A decision, which to others, may seem effortless. But to me, requires strength, and yet more strength.

There were many things you said. The longest conversation we have had since two months back. But, a conversation which contained none of the words I yearned to hear. A conversation which I can yet hold normally. A conversation which only brought about tears and a confused mind.

Lil sis said, "Cut off all contacts with this person so you can move on. One day, when you have gotten over the past, you'll be able to face him again."

I understand her words. But I am afraid they are easier said than done. The feelings I have for you are hard to describe and even harder for others to understand. I have a serious glue addiction and I don't know if I could shake it.

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Superglue

It was only an email. But it has effects comparable to those of a catastrophe in my little world. Because they are your words.

They disrupt my thoughts, my emotions and my focus. They are fertilisers for endless reminiscence and heartache during the night and potentially the next few nights to come. They are data for uncalled-for analysis. They are culprits behind tears and reminders of loss. 

Spare me my days though. For I do not wish to spend those waking hours when the sun is up and the sky is blue, thinking about you or the past.

Until such time those same words which were once fertilisers for these pointless thoughts lose their effects, could I regain that little normality I now have in my life.

"Superglue", I describe you as that. You have such a firm hold on my feelings I know not how to have you removed. Everyone says "time" - it will disintegrate your holding power on me eventually.

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Dr Denise Chin

After much procrastination, I removed myself from the comfort of my home to drop by Raffles Medical. There wasn't much choice. I have been sick for way too long.

The clinic was a little more crowded than I had wished. My queue ticket was a nice round number comprising all circles. The wait was long. And it seemed even longer when I was the next in line. None of us waiting could hide the frown on our faces.

Like most, if not all, clinics, you would expect killing silence. Maybe except for the nurses gossiping in the background and the sound of the bell that indicates another's turn, most of the patients would have been too sick to engage in any kinds of conversation. Or so I thought. 

Because, coming from the doctor's room were no doubt, laughter and chatter. If the lady who was in there was really ill, she must have contracted some laughing disease. And so must have the doctor. She was in there for the longest time, it felt. And the two sounded more like two long-lost friends catching up and laughing at each other's jokes than a patient and doctor discussing the symptoms and whatnots of the latest H1N1 virus. Had her boyfriend accompanied her in, I am almost certain the hearty conversation between the pair would have been cut very short. A blessing for the real sickly ones waiting outside.

When my turn came, I walked in with slight anticipation. "What would the doctor tell me?", I wondered. The moment I sat down and the doctor opened his mouth, I understood the reason behind the previous lady's long session with the doctor. This doctor was here to chat (with the female patients) more than diagnosing your illness. The latter took only 10 percent or less of his "valuable" time. His lame jokes - sometimes sexual, his questions about my current not-working life, and his brief mentions of Christianity, Islam, Buddhism and even Scientology were rather hard to tackle. I had to keep laughing, albeit the difficulty with my braces, so that he thought I thought he was funny.

The aim? To keep him happy so he would introduce some handsome doctor friends to me, recommend me a job at Raffles Medical HQ, and give me a discount for my current visit. Let's just say I managed to clinch 1 1/2 of the three. The discount paid for my dinner tonight. =)

Well, if I had studied medicine back in uni, I need not have, although not intentional, resorted to the above. I would have plenty of cute doctor friends around me, my very own clinic and never to worry about paying to see the doctor! If only.

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Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Beauty regime has an exponential relationship with age. As age increases, the importance of a good beauty regime increases at rocket speed. Ann would always say, "Bao yang! Bao yang!". If you have seen her flawless complexion, you would not debate on that.

Since it's never too late, the girls in the family decided to put those nagging words into action. That translated into lil sister returning from Taipei with an almost suitcase-ful of beauty products. Everyone had their pick and the leftovers are kept in inventory.

Now, you can see the Chin ladies slapping on at least 5 different skincare products on their faces every day and night in front of the mirror. Vainpots are such easy preys.

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Aunt Agony

Dear Aunt Agony,

Can it ever really hurt so bad?

I finally know now - "Yes, it can". 

On Tuesday, I paid a visit to Dr Cheng again. "Today's the big day", he said. I agreed. But I could not muster a smile. Still in pain from the extraction last week, I just looked at him with apprehension to the brim. Running away was all I could think of. Just not an option I could have. I laid there in the comfortable chair helplessly. Anxiety and pain were well written on my face. Like a kind soul, the doctor spared me further pain and did only the upper row. The lower row would be done during my next visit. About half hour or so later, I left the clinic with more aching, unsightly wires and little ceramic "thingos" sticking firmly on each of my tooth in the upper row.

It was near hell every day since then. I had to take painkillers every few hours in order to operate somewhat normally. I couldn't talk properly, eat properly or function properly. So painful were my gums and teeth that the tears were rolling against my will. I remembered telling lil sis one night in bed, "If this is my threshold of pain, I have no idea how I will be able to endure child birth in the future!" The moment I said that, I made a mental note to consider cesarean when the time comes.

The routine was 2 painkillers every four hours and I had to make sure I do not exceed 8 in a 24-hour period. I timed them perfectly so I could go to bed with the last batch of painkillers and hopefully sleep well throughout the night. Not as well as I hoped so, I guessed. Because I woke up a few times in the middle of the night as the effects of the drugs have worn off. But my body can take no more pills by then. Good thing it wasn't too hard to fall back into a slumber.

This morning, I awoke with the most immense throbbing pain in my head and a temperature. Nothing like I've ever experienced. The headache combined with the toothache were enough for me to put my hands up to be sent to the hospital and then heavily sedated. But I didn't. If I had, the doctors would probably find it too amusing. Another 2 painkillers and I tucked myself into bed. I was glad I did. I definitely feel much better now. At least the temperature and headache were gone, the pain in my teeth has subsided, and there was no constant pill-popping like before.

Mood is much improved and I kept looking at my teeth for signs of movement - can't wait for them to move nicely into a straight row. I wonder if I can give them a little "push" to speed up the process.

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May Day

Time flies - it is already May. In another 2 months' time, half of 2009 will have passed. But it seemed only yesterday that we welcomed the beginning of a new year.

It sometimes worries me that time passes so quickly. Too quick for one to grasp the reality of it all. "Is carpe diem even possible?", I wonder. Maybe it is. But easier said than done. Before I could seize it, the day has already passed.

2 months ago, I returned to this tiny island. Every day since then had been spent rebuilding the pieces. Harder than I thought, I realised. More time needed, I figured. Greater effort to put in, I believe. 

At times I question if I could do this alone. A shoulder to lean on would be welcomed. Because to do it alone has proved to be utmost draining. No longer do I have the strength to put on a brave front. No longer do I wish to face the unknown alone. I need to break down. I need to crumble. And I need a pair of strong arms to catch me when I fall.

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