Bubbles Made Me Bubbly

Last day of work- of which I decided to disappear at noon. There was nothing else left to handover to anyone. Again, walking out of the building into the hot mid-day sun brought only relief.

Do I regret this chapter? No. It's been fun, really. I can do this for a year. Maybe two years. But I don't see why I should do it. I've a choice, and I choose to walk away. My nature isn't suited for this job. I don't want to wear this superficial mask any longer or give up certain freedoms in order to excel in the job.

I went off to see a dear girlfriend and play with sweet little Bubbles who is now talking so much more than the last time I met her. It's not just about the words anymore. She understands concepts. I'm not sure what about this phrase, "Good point" that she likes, but she picked this up from my conversation with her mother, and repeated it, right down to the tone and accent. Then, she said it to her father when he came home. Heeeeheeeee.

Bubbles wanted to make me pasta for dinner, and set about chopping things up. She refused to put green pepper into her pot. She put in tons of tomatoes and onions. Awesome. This little toddler can clearly, wield a knife better than I do. Look at the photo above. She holds it with such confidence. I hung my head in shame. I can't do anything with a knife, not even to cut an apple or onion. If you've seen me with a knife trying to cut something, you'd have ROTFL at the way I handle it. Her little contributions however, resulted in real tasty pasta and salad being trotted out of her mother's kitchen.

Earlier, Bubbles had steamed egg for tea. I was eyeing it. I love stealing children's food. So the mother steamed me an egg to go with dinner too. Hurrah! She didn't put salt into it and asked if it was fine. It was perfect. I don't usually need salt in my food. I like it. Mild and superbly yummy. And I forgot to share it with anyone. Oops!

The little girl's father brought out a bottle of JW Gold Label Centenary Blend. I was intrigued. Haven't tried this yet. So I poured a teeny bit to nose and taste. It went down easy and fruity. A swirl in the mouth picked up Cardhu and distinct Talisker notes. A quick Google later confirmed it. Aside from the Swing, I believe this Gold Label Centenary Blend might just be the only other expression from JW which I like, and it's something I can recommend to first-time whisky drinkers.

Already in pyjamas, Bubbles didn't want to sleep and kept talking and talking to the mother, and walking out to alternate between grinning at me and sitting with her father. There was only one way to get her to sleep, which was to get me out of the house. Kekekekekeke. The girlfriend generously sent me home. Bubbles agreed, "Send Aunty Imp home!" She enthusiastically pattered out to wear her shoes and clambered into the car. Within 5 minutes out of the estate and on the road to my flat, Bubbles was fast asleep. Yay.

I love spending time with this girlfriend. She always has a calming influence on me. Years ago, late at night, I called her, in tears, babbling something about how horrible a colleague was, and how nasty his words to me were. She comforted me and provided another perspective to the situation which made me feel so much better. Till today, she's one of those whom I value for their views. It's not so much of the friends' advice I need. It's their separate, individual opinions that I require, in order to put together a full picture to help me to make a decision when it matters most in life.

Hitting The Books

A morning swim before the rains came was a good way to begin the day. The girlfriend was absolutely gleeful that we hit the pool in bright sunshine, and when we got out, the clouds rolled in grey.

In the fashion of typical unpredictable Singapore weather, it stormed throughout lunch. We didn't care. We were nice and cool in the flat watching E! and Style, feeling all stretched out from the swim.

As soon as the skies cleared, we went out. If we didn't, we would have fallen asleep all the way till dinner! The body was screaming for coffee. Then we hopped across to Books Actually to grab the GE11 magazine. Each time I walk into the store, I can't ever seem to leave with just one book. I always fall into the illusory trap of the brain telling the hand to pick out more, more, more!

So many lovely new books in there. I picked up plenty. Then I spied the food section. I'm not into the recipes per se, but I like the style of some snarky food writers. I also saw the cute books from The Edible Series of cheese, caviar, etc. These books are so cute! I love the writing. I spent some time trying to decide which one to purchase. I bought Potato by Andrew F. Smith, Curry by Colleen Taylor Sen and Pie by Janet Clarkson for a friend.

I leave you with an excerpt from Pie. Not at all vegetarian-friendly or helpful in the kitchen, but rather companionable.

"Mermaid-Pye

Take a Pig, scald it, and bone it; and having dried it well with a Cloath, season it with beaten Nutmeg, Pepper and chop'd Sage; then take two Neats-Tongues; when dried and cold after boiling, and slice them in lengths, and as thick as a Half-Crown, and lay a quarter of your Pig in a square or round Pye, and the slices of the Tongue on it; then another quarter, and more Tongue: and thus do four times double, and lay over all these some slices of Bacon, scatter a few Cloves, put in some pieces of Butter and Bay-leaves, then bake it; and when it is so, fill it up with pieces of sweet Butter, and make your Past white of the Butter and Flower. This Pig, or Mermaid-Pye, so called, is to be eaten cold."

Noughts and Exes In Singapore!

Most glad to while away Saturday afternoon to Noughts and Exes melodic folk rock-pop. These guys are talented and so fun. I'm glad to have heard them properly at The Pigeonhole first. The other 2 venues they played at later in the evening weren't conducive to their sound, and the horrible mixing didn't do justice to the many layers and depth of their music.

Sitting warm and cosy inside The Pigeonhole beats freezing my ass off the other time at Hong Kong Park. With a full band in a chill cafe, fruit beers kickstarted the party! Always nice to see the friends and get together for good music.

I've a couple of favorite songs from their new album, especially Everything and Lovely Day. Quite radio-friendly too! The members of Noughts and Exes are super foodies. They arrived last night and by the time I saw them, they've already hit Maxwell Market for their favorite fix of Hainanese chicken rice and other fun stuff, Katong laksa and whatnots. Then they checked out Bar Bar Black Sheep today for some overpriced Indian food in a not too-local-locale. WIN. We, the Singaporeans haven't even gone round the block to eat all the 'must-eat' local food!

In fact, I know of a couple of friends who might like this band too. People who like The Postal Service, The Decemberists, Belle & Sebastian......would view Noughts and Exes fondly. CDs have been bought and will be sent out to these people very soon!

Lunch With Mrs B and Mr L

The man and I have been wanting to do this for the longest time- take Mrs B and Mr L out and feed them! I'm very fond of Mrs B. And the man, after meeting her a couple of times, he understood why. He could see that she's got the vibes of my favorite aunts, and how she's a genuine, lovely person.

Finally we managed to fix a date, and it was such an exciting time looking forward to it. In my miserable week at work, it was the bright spark that I was eagerly waiting for. And of course, as the week wound to a memorable close, I was in a more than cheerful mood for lunch. I could fully enjoy the time spent with Mrs B and Mr L.

Age gap? No. That didn't come through in the conversation, except for many points of which the man and I gladly deferred to their wiser experiences. The man and I are really quite chuffed that they don't mind lunching with us punks! We love their insights and welcome their perspectives on many issues.

I was quite focused on the matter of feeding them. There must be a continuous stream of food appearing at the table. But hey, at least we were judicious with ordering small portions and slowly built that up to the main carb provider in the form of lobster noodles! Ooof. I was so full that I couldn't eat dinner till 9ish. Even then, I ate only fries at the fast food outlet in between catching the bands at Clarke Quay.

It's so evident that Mrs B and Mr L have such sizzling chemistry together after all these years of marriage. Years down the road, that's something the man and I hope to have. It's quite inspiring to see it displayed in front of our eyes. It's the first time we talked to Mr L proper, and we love his sense of humor. The man mumbled something about getting his number to get him out on a coffee date so that they could continue the conversation which was rudely interrupted by Mrs B and I. Muahahahahha.

Friday Night Party

We, the boys and the girls, don't need to chill out at indie bars all the time, or insist on original pieces. We know how to let be, hang loose and strum the cover songs (well) too. Ummm....there were many songs we could all sing to, but we didn't know the titles! There was plenty of furious googling last night as we grinned at the friends on the stage.

There're things I can live with. There're matters I can bear for a couple of months, but I won't suffer the change to my demeanor or chinks in my principles or beliefs. I will not be drawn into this sort of conflict. Once the line crosses, it doesn't take much to make a snap decision to tactfully wind up this little chapter that I've always known to be tentative. Receiving the confirmation letter before the end of the probation jolted me out of the "I can do this" mindset. Being able to do something doesn't mean I will continue with it, or like it, for that matter. I got out of the 'should I, should I not' phase rather quickly.

The friends are more than relieved to see that I'm done. They quietly wonder how long I could continue doing this. Well, I wasn't suffering; many parts were an incredible eye-opener, and some were pleasant. But the imp the friends know, isn't a 'yes-girl'. Sitting in the middle of the bar soaking in the music and bobbing along to familiar beats, I knew I'm never meant to be a corporate rat. It's not a facade I can maintain well. Bumming around is just so much more fun. That said, my interpretation of bumming won't be the technical definition of it. I am just, the imp, free spirited and unfortunately, still fiercely idealistic.

If you think getting drunk was part of the party plan, it wasn't. It was all very civil. There were some beers and cocktails, but nothing madly gulped. I drank 1 glass of crap mojito, 1 canned tomato juice and 2 teeny bottles of Perrier, and went home at 2.30am a very happy girl.

Buzzing Around This Morning

Decided to be nice to the old folks on my roster and some of the friends'. So early morning, I went around Tiong Bahru market and its nearby shops to tapau some of their favorite stuff. It's a good sort of exercise- all these walking around in the heat. One could really burn off lots of energy doing this, and build arm muscles as the packs of food increase over the next 30 minutes.

Buying food for them can be a harrowing thing. I've been scolded by them for buying porridge, noodles, roast meats and the sorts from the 'wrong stalls' which don't do it as well as the other ones. They don't want large portions because they think it won't be as tasty as the regular portions which are perceived to be more balanced. Okaaaay. I always ignore them on the matter of lard. I'm not putting lard into the food, and requests for the cooks to use cooking oil instead of lard. The oldies swear they can taste the difference. Nonsense- they didn't taste the difference till after...... after I told them that I never put lard into their food.

It can be a painful exercise because I obviously wouldn't know which stalls are good at what. Had to spend some time trawling through food blogs to check out the supposed differences between the stalls, and make a gamble as to which ones the old folks prefer. By now, I know their individual quirks and can hazard a pretty good guess as to what to tapau for them.

Lugged the heavy bags over to the estates and heaved them onto the dining tables. Luckily I caught them before they started prepping for lunch. Most already had breakfast hours earlier. How on earth do they wake up at 5am or 6am daily? But okay. They go to bed by 10pm. So I guess it works out well enough. The oldies were extremely grouchy, and excited. I got a earful from them about the upcoming Presidential elections and the non-state funeral of a certain past President. I sipped my coffee and dutifully nodded at appropriate pauses. Oh boy, here we go again.

Her Parents Cooked

The best way to end a Sunday- dinner at the friend's. Between our crazy schedules, we haven't had time to hang out this year. When I'm in town, she isn't. When she's in town, I'm out. A couple of weeks back, we finally locked down a date and fervently hoped to keep it. We did!

Her parents cooked. They went out to grab the freshest crabs. The man and I were quite embarrassed to trouble them, but they insisted. To thank them properly, we balanced out the day's meals just so we could eat more in the evening. Their efforts must be reciprocated!

I'm not overly fond of crabs and will not bother to peel a crab or queue to eat crabs. But at this dinner, protocol dictated I must eat them, and cooked excellently, it was difficult to resist. The parents could really cook. The crabs were ultra fresh. To the man's absolute delight and surprise, I kinda peeled my own crabs. Heeeeee. The shells were already cracked, not tough to pull out the meat. It's probably the second time the man has ever seen me eat crabs with my own hands.

Chinese meals are nice once in a while when lovingly cooked by the friends or their parents. Especially the soups. Our generation has been so spoilt by our parents that we still depend on them to feed us, or drive us around! To them, we'll always be the noisy 20-yr old brats! There was so much food. We tried our very best to eat lots, but couldn't avoid having leftovers. We hung out after dinner. It was great. If not for the work day that beckons an early rising time, we would have stayed later. Always good to catch up.

Another Dinner, Another Winner

I strolled through the doors of Table at 7 on Saturday evening with a lot of thrill, knowing what I wanted to eat without needing to look at the menu and looking forward to the company. I've been eyeing the ball of shallot rice so much that I planned the day's other meals and pilates routine around it, in order to free up sufficient space for ingestion of carbs. Even a work call which interrupted 5 minutes of the evening didn't dampen my spirits. It made me more determined to shove it to the back of the mind and concentrate on the company, wine and food.

This is getting to be a bad habit. Instead of running away from wine, I'm beginning to enjoy it, given the right company, ambience and conversation which isn't about other restaurants or food. Good wine, to be precise. I dislike wasting calories on bad wine. Since Ivan is determined to be fashionably late, (actually, not true, but I just like to say that. :D It's because M. and I have a brilliant practice of setting our watches minutes ahead, forget about it, and keep turning up way before the stipulated meeting time), we went ahead to make the enormous decision of having white wine for the evening with the food, regardless.

M. astutely picked a fabulous 2008 Chablis Fourshaume that went swimmingly with the flavors of our meal, sambal belachan and spicy rendang notwithstanding. It was a beautiful wine and I almost contemplated ordering another bottle midway through. Heeeeee. I'm not bothered to upload any of my photos of the food because you can hop over to see Ivan's superior set of photos from his photostream!

(Ivan's photostream- Table at 7)

White asparagus was still available and it was a good starter to layer with a cream of mushroom sauce. Then I went for a mix of Asian steamed shallot rice and grilled prawns. The sambal on the prawns wasn't at all spicy. It was piquantly tart with fragrant limes used to pound the paste, and almost refreshing. It's like a sort of citrus-sambal olek.

I forgot what Table at 7 called this dish that is effectively made up of 2 croquettes, but I know it as 'kroket panggang' (with minced chicken) and the other version with potato 'kroket kentang', and its original Dutch version of 'kroketten'. It's something that I've always grown up eating with kecap manis, sambal or simply a tiny green or red fiery chilli. Ahhh....fond memories. Table at 7 gave it a twist by matching it with tau-cheo (fermented soy bean sauce).

I love sambal. Totally. I grew up with Japanese and Indonesian food! The only thing Chinese that has influence in the kitchens is Cantonese soups, double-boiled or otherwise because the grandmothers decided that these soups are more healthy, than say, sop buntut. I've spent alot of time squatting in my grandmothers' kitchens fanning huge charcoal stoves, dragging the cobek and ulekan to and fro for the maids to pound ingredients to make sambal. Many Indonesian restaurants in Singapore are disappointing. The best foods are really found in the friends' or their mothers' kitchens. So at Table at 7, the tastebuds have been pleasantly surprised, and I really like Eugenia's elegant interpretation of Indonesian dishes and spicy sambal.

At The Bookstore

In spite of all our fancy e-readers, we still like to flip real books and magazines. The bookshelf isn't an obsolete piece of furniture in our flat. In fact, bookshelves will occupy full walls for a long while more. To us, hard copy books are irreplaceable. We've the usual soft covers stacked out in the open, then I've my precious vintage leather bound copies quietly sitting within humidity-controlled cabinets. Books are very much like leather bags and guitars. They need to be lovingly used and properly stored.

I've no inclination to buy new books till I know for sure that the contents are enthralling enough to keep a copy. The library works for me. But as we got older, for some reason, the library stopped being a regular hangout. It isn't exactly convenient for me to get to a couple of times a week. Between the man and I, we plough through 3 to 5 books a week. Amazon and The Book Depository work for us, along with second-hand bookshops, and pass-it-ons from the friends. In this way, we can comfortably manage the quantity of books on the shelves, rather than have too many of these books accumulating in an undignified heap in a corner.

The man and I spent some time before lunch in a second-hand bookshop browsing through its shelves. Limited stuff, but some fun titles. We picked out 2 books each for the week. And no, we can't share books, not frequently or regularly because we've rather different preferences when it comes to the sort of books. No prizes for guessing which genre of books the man likes, and which is my preferred.

A 4-Hour Dinner

I wasn't particularly bothered about the food. The fries were awesome with chilli sauce, as usual. Tonight, for me, the original Les Bouchons at Ann Siang Road was all about the company and the drinks. We made the date a few weeks back, and it was a dinner date I looked forward to.

It was awesome catching up with the friends. These are people I can travel with easily, through all sorts of situations, knowing that individually, we can hold our own, and as a group, handle anything thrown at us. Clearly, our acquaintance on a work trip has proven so. On that work trip, I wouldn't have kept my sanity, except for their brilliant steadiness and our hilarious conversations that touched on all sorts of random subjects. We were probably glad for one another's company. Shared misery does sort of indicate diminished pain on the individual level.

Somehow, we managed to finish a bottle of dependable champagne and a rather decent bottle of burgundy which needed to breathe for half an hour. Champagne was a no brainer. The burgundy's flavors were fully released after a while, making it very smooth, layered and easy to drink. ARRRGHHH! This is not good. We are closet alcoholics. When we got ready to leave, it was 11pm! O.M.G. We hung out for 4 hours at the tiny cafe. We sure can talk nonsense. Till our next meal, people.

Les Bouchons

7 Ann Siang Road

Singapore 069689

T: +65 6 423 0737

Nerf Gun Wars

If the friends and I are to do parkour together, adding nerf guns to the mix can only up the game. The moment we latched onto the idea in January, we knew this wasn't going to be played out at the beach or in the parks. This is going to be a full-on war at someone's house where no one will get arrested!

I'm most certainly NOT going to run around with a nerf gun screaming. That is so dumb when this bunch of us is equipped with a more athletic inclination. We scream at paintball of course. That hurts man. But in our nerf gun wars, the fun is to use it for parkour and play out mafia wars, sorta. Once in a bit, we throw in precious 'treasures' as the final mission objective, or gems to be collected along the way. I've gotten a few solid bottles of Highland Park 25 y.o. Woooohoooo.

Since January, we've all been zealously acquiring a solid collection of guns and stocking up on ammunition for the weekly wars. It's been such a hoot that we've had to implement ground rules of only using guns to fire shots and not bash the other person WITH the gun or use the guns as a weapon to fight the other. Hehehehehe. I'm guilty of that too! I've stuck out a leg to trip the girlfriend who was cleverly anticipating it somewhat, so she did a little leap and cleared that. I had to run away damn fast before I got hit by this indignant woman yelling at me.

Parkour has never been this fun. Flipping over a balcony with a gun in hand is woahhhyyyy unsteady! We've embarrassingly tripped over our own Long Strikes, Long Shots and Raider Rapid Fires. The Barricade is just unwieldy, but very effective. I've managed to destroy my Raider and had to get a replacement.

After each session, we cool off by retrieving the ammo. For all those lost, they'll pop up again. For whatever else necessary, we buy and replenish. We only play at 3 houses, so the ammo stash has been building up quite nicely. We've a very admirable arsenal too. Quite a workout. Good cardio, good stretch.

I've reloaded. BRING.IT.ON.

The Bloody Inverted Split

(from Google Images)

The suspended split is already very painful. That's the instructor's favorite pose for me, insisting that I should be able to do it both sides, rather than favoring one. I had to do some extreme twists these 2 weeks to work out kinks in the body. This job seems to be all about sitting in the office. I can't do that! The body rebels. So I've upped the intensity at pilates. Doing really well. This week is much better for the body, as long as I keep it moving and not stuck in a chair daily.

Then, the instructor put me on the inverted split. Earlier in the week, she showed me a photo and said, "Get up there." My eyes bulged. WAH LAU. But okay. On the first try, I already had a huge problem trying to hang off the bars looking cool, much less maneuver into an inverted split.

You'll just have to settle for this image from Google because I'm not bothered to take a photo in the studio when I'm very busy trying to regulate my breathing while controlling throbbing muscles, shivering arms and struggling to maintain a fight against gravity.

By the second time I lost my grip and fell gracefully to the floor, the instructor was in stitches at my efforts. Between clenched teeth and hands, I yelled, "So unprofessional!" Heh. We're friends lah, so she can afford to laugh. She doesn't treat the other students this way, really.

This morning, I clambered up and hung there for dear life. But I couldn't do a perfect split. Gotta work on that some more. On the left side that I favor. I can't even do a proper full split on my right normally. I'm not even sure I should attempt the right inverted! No matter. I.must.do.this.properly on the left, at least, by the end of next week!

Sweating It Out This Morning

Since I signed up for morning duties with the old folks, I had to turn up at tai chi. I really wanted to sleep in, but then I'd probably feel resentful at myself for wasting a perfectly good public holiday, and turn into a mega grouch for the next 8 hours.

Am so not a morning person, but if there're things to do, they just have to be done. Once I'm actually up, I don't mind being out and about in the sun. Blue skies and a spot of exercise make for endorphins and happy vibes.

Tai chi was a good way to shrug off all remnant sleep, and doubled as a warm-up for a spot of jumping after that. If I were to perspire, I might as well soak it all through. I didn't wear the right shoes though. No Vibrams and they were just easy walking shoes that would hinder movements. So it wasn't exactly strenuous because I strived not to fall too badly.

Met the man for a drink before he headed out for the day to fiddle with guitars. The man wanted brunch. So Forty Hands it was. I was not the least bit hungry. The old folks had fed me rather well. So I watched him devour eggs benedict while I sipped my coffee. The cafe was stuffy and it was quite unbearable indoors. There simply isn't enough ventilation at Forty Hands when tables are full; the owners still haven't done anything about it. I picked the table closest to the door and sat away from everyone else, just in case I stank of stale perspiration. Heh.

Am off to the studio for pilates then cool off with a swim. I shall cancel the session with the chiropractor this weekend. I refuse to depend on the chiropractor as a permanent solution to body aches and muscle spasms. It's always the inactivity that results in aching muscles and bones with a tight knot somewhere between the shoulders. Once I straighten the muscles out, the knot disappears. It'll re-appear every week if I don't get enough exercise going or spend too much time in front of the laptop.

Dances All Day

The friends are in town again for the Singapore Arts Festival. Our weekend started with wandering around the very unforgiving, demonically hot and cruelly suffocating Biennale venue at Old Kallang Airport. Then it was blessed relief at SOTA for the Festival's new commission- Arco Renz' 'Crack'. We watched the Cambodian dancers from Amrita Performing Arts explore the pain of Pol Pot's era to the measured enjoyment of its current-day energies, from isolation to integration.

The evening saw us stroll around the Festival Village and then park at the cafes at the Esplanade for drinks and food. Half of us eagerly anticipated Joe Bonamassa's gig and couldn't wait to hear him and see his Les Pauls. The rest of us were looking forward to Alain Platel's 'Out of Context - For Pina'. The conversation couldn't be more dichotomous.

Sunday night and I wasn't exactly dressed to the nines for a dance. Ah well. It wasn't a gala! So I wasn't bothered. The theatre wasn't full for the performance. A pity. It was kinda cool to see the 8 dancers get up from among the seated audience and stroll up to the stage, setting the tone of it all. The background music was more of background noises emulating animal grunts. In those minutes of silence amidst grunts, I was most tickled to hear the stomachs of fellow audiences growl and whine, almost in accompaniment to the grunts over the speakers.

On stage, everything is pared down to the minimum including lighting, props and soundtracks. In summary, this dance explores the self versus the crowd, loneliness versus acceptance, accepted social norms versus the visceral ecstatic. It draws inspiration from Alain Platel's earlier experiences as a movement therapist.

It was a tad confusing as the dancers also took on roles of an actor, a singer and the audience; the expressions on their faces matter as as their body movement. But this is contemporary dance. I often struggle with it the way I sometimes don't get surrealism. 'Out of Context' is similar. However, I think it throws in too much imagery and mimicry that slows the pace of the overall effect and leaves me wondering what exactly and what else is the choreographer hinting at.

I leave you with a clip of the dance to boggle your mind.

An Evening With The Girls

Dinner at home with the girlfriends whom I love dearly.

Stuffed roasted peppers, beet and caramelized onion tart, garden pasta with oxheart tomatoes, chunks of fabulous cheese handcarried from France, warm homebaked sourdough bread, a most interesting homemade quindim, and an amazing cobbler of fresh peaches and blueberries.

The conversation ranged from Ai Weiwei to the incredible Congressman Ron Paul who has been providing us with endless entertainment. Then it got sidetracked to how some of us are creeped out by Spejbl and Hurvinek while the rest adore them. Needless to say, there was an intense discussion on a SkyNet scenario, and the topic we couldn't escape from- McLuhan and 'The Gutenberg Galaxy', or what we like to call it- McLuhan 2.0.

Movies for the night were unanimously chosen to be the depressing 'Restrepo' and the refreshingly controversial '12th & Delaware', and pockets of space were found to squeeze in our honest sentiments of both.

It's a wonder how after all these years, we can still be in the same room and not explode in a mish-mash of clashing opinions. It's exhilarating to be in their company.

Pretty Colors

The girlfriend was looking to borrow an inexpensive kebaya to wear out for a dinner. But I umm.....chucked out all of mine. The precious kebayas and handmade slippers gifted by my grandmother have been lovingly framed up into pieces of art. Those aren't exactly what I call 'retrievable'.

When the other girlfriends' told me the jaw-dropping prices of their kebayas, I decided I don't want to be responsible for something that I'm not wearing. So I looked for alternatives. Kebaya tops that aren't so delicate with machine-made embroidery rather than something hand sewn, but just as pretty; batik skirts that aren't handprinted, but machine completed. In this way, said girlfriend won't feel heartache if the wine and food stains appear on the clothes.

The kebaya is needed urgently. There isn't time to tailor an inexpensive new piece. It has to be bought off-the-rack, which isn't at all ideal for a kebaya. Someone's someone's someone's cousin owns a shop selling simple day kebayas in People's Park Complex. I didn't want to know where and how. All I did was to send some specs over, and this friendly source very promptly procured it and sent the required pieces at no charge to me. All of these, done within 12 hours from time of request to receipt of clothes. AWESOME. I'll return the favor another day, in another way.

The white and blue combination pictured below is for said girlfriend. The pink and brown combination above is for her little girl to wear as a matching thingy as well! I'm quite pleased with them. In my grandmother's time, these are the day-to-day kebayas. However, in contemporary fashion, they can pass off for a themed event with a full face of make-up and hair properly done. Methinks they look pweddddy. Said girlfriend likes them enough. Whewwwww. Task completed!

New Piano

The man's Mom does the new baby grand every justice. Her fingers fly across the keys in fluid, emotive interpretations of sonatas and all classical pieces. In her hands, the piano is moulded to a beautiful character and came to life. She's a trained pianist, and better disciplined than I am.

As much as I love the antique Ibach with its well-rounded mid-range notes, I admit it doesn't possess the mesmerizing sonorous quality of a Steinway. I've been playing on a Steinway concert grand ALOT over the last 2 months, seeing I was given a free rein over those 2 particular beauties. But I can't, in good conscience say I do this piano justice. My scales are messy. I still trip over them every time, without fail. Classical and exam pieces drive me crazy. Being able to play them doesn't mean I feel anything for the genre. There isn't an ounce of passion in there.

I started on the first 3 pages of 'Rondo alla Turca' and gave up. The first full-length piece I played on the new piano was 'Autumn Leaves'. Then I went on to 'My Funny Valentine'. Much much easier on the ear. And I've gotten lazy to flip physical scores. Since I play 'pop piano', I buy digital scores and download them into the iPad. Wieeeee! So easy to literally thumb through or automate the flipping!

Only Cold Desserts Will Do

There were plenty of youtube videos to entertain us today. And of the chicken dance by a certain persona made famous overnight by his reading of the election results. Memories of having to do the chicken dance way back in school cracked us up totally.

The air-conditioning was turned on. Ahhh...blessed cool relief. I don't think any of us can survive the blistering heat this weekend without it. The dog got it right. He pushed all of us out of his way, snuggled into the couch, tried really hard to keep awake, and finally fell asleep. Sprawled on the couch, I contemplated napping too. Best way to round up a Sunday afternoon.

The friends' dad bundled us into the car and out to the club for dessert. The thermometers read 36°C. UGH. During the short walk from the carpark to the cafe, I could feel the heat from the concrete burn through the jeans. Too hot for jeans and closed-toe shoes. Shorts, summer dresses, dri-fit stuff and flipflops are the best to combat our sunny weather. Sunnies weren't enough. The girlfriend had her hat on. I should have brought my giant hat too! I wonder why people in Singapore don't wear hats more often. It's like, prudent to do so.

On a hot day like this, the only viable desserts are COLD ones. Nothing else appealed. Not cakes, brownies or an apple crumble even. We went straight for the ice kachang and cheng tng. I ordered a coffee, but abandoned it in favor of the desserts. The coffee could wait till I finish the tasty cold cold bowl of cheng tng.

Our (non) Polling Day!

Even though we couldn't vote, no reason why we couldn't join in the fun by tagging along with the friends who could vote. Election parties were going on all day and night! Armchair commentary is no fun on our own. Best to round up people to do a sort of group-think and scold random people. The sun blazed fiercely today. It's too hot and humid to be doing anything outdoors except for swimming.

I've never voted before. As long as I don't move out to someplace further, I'm probably never going to vote in this life as long as the GRC system stays tightly in place. So excuse me if I'm excited about voting. It's serious business to me, and I really can't help rolling my eyes when people ask me "what's so exciting about it, and why do I bother". My replies have been short and almost brusque, "Because it is, because I do." There isn't a point in explaining further.I don't care that they don't care. I don't care if they do.

We finally have decent popcorn in town! What's a party without good popcorn? Early in the morning, we trooped out to Garrett Popcorn to buy different flavored popcorn in jumbo packs to munch on. Junk food all day FTW. But there was proper food at lunch too. The friends' parents fed us well before driving out to their polling station. We put on the stopwatch. From the time they walked through the gate, queue to vote and come out, it was exactly 8 minutes. WAH. So fast! Rather anti-climatic. But good. Can faster crawl back into air-conditioning in the car and back in the house. VERY HOT AH!

The next half of the excitement will come tonight, in the form of announcement of results. There's going to be live telecast on television and radio, but at the rate it's going, I'm quite sure that the online media and sources will be more effective than waiting for tv and radio to officially present the results in fancy formats.

A Night Of Wine And Swirling Thoughts

I've had quite enough of keeping up to date with the online natter and solemn, heartfelt and exaggerated fb notes of the upcoming elections. 2 weeks aren't going to change my mind, but yes, it can choose to slap me in the face with a walkover and a lousy non-contest. I've had 5 years to observe the going-ons around me. I'd like to talk to the friends and hear their thoughts. Nothing like a sane, in-depth conversation away from fb to put many angles into perspective.

Over good bottles of Krug Vintage Clos du Mesnil 1998 and 1993 Romanée-St-Vivant (Marey-Monge), we put aside the guitars and put on the playlist to the soulful notes of Coltrane and Miles Davis, then Richard Hawley and Sam Cooke. I enjoy the music of these 2 singers. They're beautiful. It's the only way I know how to do justice to our 4 bottles of alcohol on the table that aren't whisky.

Particularly poignant to me at this point in time, is Sam Cooke's 'A Change Is Gonna Come'. I asked to repeat it and adjusted the amps louder. As the song filled the room, almost by reflex, we fell silent and mouthed the lyrics. I'm almost surprised that no one got on the guitar or piano, or sing our version of this.

Can You Cook?

At the PAP rally in Hougang on 30 April 2011, PAP candidate for Hougang SMC, Desmond Choo recounted a story told to him by "an old man who said that choosing an MP is like choosing a wife"- 

'If your wife is unable to cook, there's no point. You must choose a wife who is able to do things for you.' 

Do you know how many Singaporean men (and young women) will agree to that line? I will randomly and subjectively say that it's a good percentage. Why recount the story, why re-tell the example? I'm aware that Desmond Choo was trying to draw an analogy about how difficult it is to make a choice and vote by the story of an old man. But I'm going to obstinately take this the wrong way simply because the younger man obviously thought it to be a great example to re-hash, without thinking through it. What does it say when this analogy resonates with a man strongly enough to re-tell it in publicly. Your spoken analogy doesn't equate my final understanding of it. It really doesn't quite sit well with me.

In a jaw-dropping proclamation in 2007, our Minister Mentor stated that Singapore would suffer if ministerial salaries were not raised to astronomical amounts, "Your security will be at risk and our women will become maids in other people's countries...". So our ministerial salaries have been raised, and in 2011, another stunning proclamation by our esteemed incumbent's display of chauvinism, it has been insinuated that our women (and some men's wives) are effectively useless if they can't cook, and are de facto maids in our own countries.

I don't cook, clean or wash. So therefore, I'm not a desirable mate to many (presumably) Singaporean men. But of course, most men aren't desirable to me either, because they can't cook and expect ME to do things for them. All hail, males. You serve me, not the other way around. I didn't marry a man to "do things" for him. My partner is now laughing at Desmond Choo's unsolicited advice about choosing a wife, or for that matter, voting.

Reading On The Weekends

I always make it a point to finish a book on Sundays. While I keep on an eye on the happenings on the intarwebs, it doesn't seem right to let the day go by without touching a hard copy book and flip those pages. Sundays seem like the perfect time to sink into the couch and read. Today, the choice is Chuck Palahniuk's 'Tell All'.

Augustana, Darren Hanlon, Frank Turner and Richard Hawley were on the playlist humming in the background. I didn't need tea or coffee. Water will do fine to accompany the read. When the last page of the book was turned, the sun had almost set. The room was half shrouded in shadows and it was just about right to turn on the lights in the flat. The evening was beautifully completed with homecooked vegetable biryani, dhaal and chickpea curry. The dinner satisfied all sorts of cravings for spices.

At The Shops

Grabbed the girlfriend out to get new sets of pyjamas and sleeping socks from Marks & Spencer at Wheelock Place and met SO MANY humans there. I literally ran into a familiar face every 5 steps. It's been a great day for hugs and random 5-sentence catch-ups. What's up, people?! Aren't you out of town enjoying the long weekend?!

Running into stylish mommy lilsnooze made me realize that I don't have a pair of Tory Burch flats in black, and it made me feel like buying one! Grrrrrr. I like those shoes. They're comfortable. Anyway, I was looking to replace some rough-tumble flats that died on me after 2 years of 'torture'. It wasn't something that had to be done immediately. It was more of 'if I come across something cool, I'll buy'. And I did! A pair of grungy Mary Janes from Dr.Martens followed me home. I insisted the shoes are blue. The girlfriend insisted that it's mint green. Whatevar! It's powder blue, I say!

At the pit-stop at the Robert Timms cafe adjoining Borders (hasn't closed down yet!), I was pleasantly surprised to find out that its flat white wasn't too bad. Not as full flavored as I would like, but quite decent. The apple crumble and vanilla bean ice-cream combo was surprisingly good. Not overly sweet and a little tart, the generous portions of apple slices were such an easy mid-afternoon bite.

We spent a good 5 minutes staring into the toy shop, dying of laughter at the pose of the figurines. If we had seen this 2 months ago, it wouldn't have been this hilarious. But to see this during this exciting period, it was just too corny. I think we were really loud. Other people walking by slowed to see what we were chortling at; they didn't have to ask what and why because they started laughing too. It made all of us laugh even harder. These people, confirm are Singaporeans. Hehehhehe.