Chicken Salad for Breakfast

All breakfasts should be assembled. I'm not that big on shrooms or sausages in the morning. I always prefer assembling food over cooking. Zzzzz. Okay, eggs are the exception. You can just do eggs on the stove in any way. However, I'm still not into breakfast if I'm not on a hiking trip, or stuck in a full work day with no mid-day meal breaks.

The man is a breakfast person. He has seasonal and rotational preferences when it comes to breakfast. Easy things at home mean Chinese steamed fluffy white chicken buns, siew mai, or sardines on toast. To that, avocados work too, as well as a chicken salad. The man has no objections to chicken in any form, as long as it's done right. Chicken breasts are his default because he likes the meat lean and with no skin.

Now, this chicken salad that the man likes. I could sous vide chicken breast for the dog and the man to share. But I really prefer not to handle raw chicken as far as possible. However, on many days, I buy a whole small honey-glazed roast chicken from Cold Storage. The point of this roast chicken is to be shredded into breakfast. It's basic food. No gourmet treatment necessary. For $4.90, this supermarket roast chicken hits a spot. This is a total life hack. 

The supermarket quartered it for me so that it's easier to manage. I don't bother heating up the chicken. It's nicer cold. By the time I'm done with the salad, it's no longer fridge-cold. All good. I hand-shred the chicken breast, and assemble a breakfast salad. There would be a base of greens, either spinach or rocket or a mix of both. Then I add all the toppers and toss them all in. That would be whatever I have in the fridge. 

• olive oil
• shallots
• cherry tomatoes
• sweet peppers
• Japanese cucumbers
• a dash of Worcestershire Sauce
• coarse black pepper, sea salt and paprika
• hot sauce (optional) 

Drizzle and serve. Made one the other morning for the man to fill the stomach before he went in for a marathon four hours of calls. On such a day, being hangry would be unbearable. He loves it because of all the flavors in there. It's hearty and filling, yet light and clean enough. 

Fourth Quarter of 2021 :: Getting in the Exercise

Time to take a break from pilates and gyrotonic. Although it's really to keep the spine and core supple, and these classes could go on forever. I'd like a breather. Pandemic years made these weekly classes feel rote and tedious. 

I'm grateful for them, the instructors' health and resilience, and the fact that regulations allow the classes to continue (albeit with face masks). But it feels like I'm training to no end goal. Yes, yes, I set my own goals and work towards them. I'm just feeling.... unmotivated this period. 

However, it means I'd up the frequency of classes at Ritual. Those are an easy way to get the heart rate up to fulfill the HIIT component. Krav maga classes have begun again, so that would take care of the movement and agility. Then, there's something new I want to try out. 

It's a new-to-me form of martial arts that I'm interested in — kalaripayattu, or kalari for short. Although kalari refers to the training grounds; payattu means 'combat'. I'm not looking to practice this for months or years. I'm looking to do this a few weeks by way of introductory sessions. I'm not starting martial arts on a blank slate as an adult. So I'm not sure how previous training acquired and current practice would affect my understanding of kalaripayattu. 

I won't ever be competent enough to practice with weapons or be totally familiar with all its movements. I simply want to understand more about this form of martial arts and its movements gleaned from the lion, boar, cobra, elephant, tiger, horse, rooster and buffalo. I'm excited about it. I see A LOT of squats in the movements. Okaaaaaay. Woohooooo.

Pre-packed Raw Meals

The raw-feeding canine and feline community has increased and is thriving. There're so many meat and offal suppliers out there now that one is spoilt for choices. Choya is on a fresh raw diet 80% of the time. However, for a few meals a week, I still maintain a base of dehydrated raw (to rehydrate) and air-dried 'kibbles' for Choya. This is to keep her stomach used to the ratio should her diet changes if and when I travel and she has go to boarding or to a trusted caregiver.  

I've spent a lot of time researching, reading, seeking advice (paid) from super qualified vets and canine nutritionists in order to prep for Choya's diet. Her sensitive digestive tract drove me crazy. While the initial transition to raw meals was a breeze, fixing the proteins, fibre and offal to go into her body weren't that smooth. Fibre has to be given in measured amounts, otherwise her poop becomes soft serve. Her ratio of offal has to be super low because she can't take the fresh rich organs. Those guarantee shitsplosions. Yet she still needs it, so I've to constantly tweak it, and eventually settle for freeze-dried or dehydrated organs. 

I've always balanced Choya's meals myself. It isn't much of a chore. It's a challenge and it's super fun. There's nothing that pre-packed raw meals offer me beyond convenience. It's not difficult to match their nutritional value or whatever it is the brands tout. Her poop and detailed bloodwork tell me that I'm on the right track. 

For a change, I bought two weeks' worth of pre-packed food from BOMBOM. She needs 175g of food a day. She could sometimes go up to 250g. She averages at 200g. BOMBOM brand trots out vacuum-sealed packs of balanced meals. I buy a la carte items from their Basic BOMBOM anyway, so I thought to check out how much I like the convenience of these subscription packs. I'm after the ground bone, which makes my job easier. I also like it that I can exclude offal/organs from these packs. I simply top up the difference with muscle meat, extra beef and eggs.  

I added on iwashi to this order. They arrived, and they are indeed iwashi. The man is stealing her sardines. The smol dog can't (and shouldn't) even finish a whole sardine on her own in one meal. They can share. ⅓ for Choya and ⅔ for her Daddy. I'll just have to salt and grill his ⅔ for a snack. HAHAHAHA.

The add-ons to the pre-packed portions are always fun since these offer a way to test new foods. However, there's always trepidation in doing so. No one wants our floofies to get the runs and wince in pain for a day or so. Portion control is key. Get ready the mashed pumpkin, or simply sprinkle psyllium husk or slippery elm in the food just to manage the potential soft serve to drip out at walkies, instead of having them as shitsplosions. Say, salmon roe. I literally count two beads to put in Choya's food. She's only 7kg, so two beads would be fine in her gastrointestinal tract. Any more would wreak havoc. Unless she's bigger and is a 12 or 15kg Shiba-ken. 

Pangdemonium's 'The Mother'

Pangdemonium staged Florian Zeller's 'The Father' in 2018 (there's a beautiful film of it made and recently released, starring Anthony Hopkins), and 'The Son' in 2020 (Hugh Jackman and Laura Dern are slated to star in the film adaptation to be released in 2022). I watched 'The Father' and thoroughly enjoyed it, but opted to skip the 'The Son' because it wasn't a storyline I empathize with, so I don't particularly care for it. 

This year, Pangdemonium staged 'The Mother', often billed as the final of his 'trilogy' of theater works. My first set of tickets was on the weekend before National Day, not the date I wanted, and accessing the venue of Victoria Theatre would be highly inconvenient with the National Day Parade going on at the floating platform. Never mind; I was sure that the dates would shift. The entire production did. 

The entire show shifted to October, thanks to P2HA from July 22 to August 18. Pangdemonium finally got the show on the road. I shuddered to think of the losses they had to bear. Merrily trotted to a matinee at Victoria Theatre. Finally. I got to see a theater play live on stage!

Directed by Tracie Pang, the show stars theater darlings Janice Koh and Adrian Pang. They share such fantastic chemistry on stage and it's always such a pleasure to watch them act. I never tire of seeing them in the different roles that they effortlessly sink into and portray. 

I grimaced through many parts of the play. The audience saw the descent of Mother into self-destruction. We saw an unhappy woman who didn't like how her marriage had gone, and how her relationship with her son grew distant. The more she tried to hold on to everything, the more she ended up losing. We share the fragile pieces of her mind and what was left of it.  

The biggest takeaway for me, personally, felt like a reminder. It felt like the writer warning both men and women, but mostly women — women shouldn't just build their lives and identities around their husbands and children. Marriage can be shackles when we take it to the extreme. Should we? Or shouldn't we? 

We ought to uhhh... carve out our individual selves and be assured of it. We can't expect another to give us happiness. We make our own. I won't know how it is for the other women who have taken on the roles as mothers raising children, or if they expect anything in return, or what they expect of a family they've built. That's not a life I choose. My definitions are different, and my motivations are different. I'll have to ensure my own strength in order not to descend into a hell I have perpetuated, regardless of the triggers. 

Celtuce in Pasta

Pork medallions with chunky mushroom sauce.

Cooking dinner at home meant stopping by Tiong Bahru market to get some ingredients. The man had a craving for celtuce. He would take care of dinner and sort out the menu. Found juicy celtuce, brown and shiitake mushrooms. The pork stall ran out of bone-in pork chops, so I got pork medallions. These Indonesian pork are really very much superior to the usual Australian pork in the supermarket. 

I was going to do a celtuce salad, but the man decided to add carbs. So he tossed up spaghetti aglio e olio with celtuce. Oh yes they do go together surprisingly well. The man watched the cooking time. The celtuce must remain bright green. The celtuce lent that lovely sweet smell to the carbs, meshed well with the garlic and chilli padi, and best of all, they were still crunchy in the pasta.

The sous vide pork medallions were finished in the pan. The brown crisp is always nice. Instead of having them sit in mushroom gravy, the man made a separate batch of chunky creamy mushroom sauce to layer over the pork medallions. Drizzled marsala wine in the mushrooms. Also, the milk and butter totally rocked. There, another easy dinner at home. We had pork medallions left (could eat those with rice for lunch or with spinach leaves or whatever as a salad), but no more pasta. Hahah. Tonight’s pasta was brilliant. I’m a carb monster. I ate it all! 

An Unsolved Murder-Mystery

When I read the first few paragraphs of Karen Brown's 'Needs' published in The Atlantic on August 31, 2021, it sounded like a standard murder-mystery unsolved. It was set in 1966 in Windham County, Connecticut. That was an America when men worked and women kept house. 

I was like, hmmm, small town social mores versus expectations of women's changing roles in the corporate world and at home. It didn't turn dramatic. The gem in the narrative is in its small-town setting, domestic landscape, and the quiet horror of it all. Nobody expected someone they knew to be murdered in their home, and a murderer unaccounted for. 

The writer explained her approach when writing the story, 

I approached the story without any idea who my narrator would be. I was simply trying to create the world of the crime. But eventually, her voice emerged, and the story as she knew it unfolded. Voyeurs and writers are careful observers of the lives of others, making assumptions that translate to an invented closeness. In some ways, this can feel like a transgression. But the writer’s agenda is always unearthing a truth about the situation, the characters, or the world they inhabit.

Murder victim Patty and the unnamed narrator are neighbors, and lived across the street from each other. There was a lot of talk about the murderer, an unfaithful husband who married his girlfriend before his wife's trial ended. There was the mother-in-law who was accused of murdering Patty, but she somehow had cancer and died in the hospital without being questioned further.

The town wanted the suspect caught so they could go back to leaving their doors unlocked, take their walks in the woods again in peace. The summer night, filled with the sound of katydids and crickets, became a space they awoke to jolted by fear. Patty’s husband and Doris were longtime residents. Doris’s former employers attested to her diligence and care in their households, as if they’d forgotten that her hospitalization had been cause for dismissal. She was a jewel, they said. The children loved her so. When it was proved that the teenager accused of the crime was elsewhere at the time Patty was killed, he was exonerated. He left town as soon as he was able, and many still assumed this was proof of his guilt and were grateful. 

Patty's body was found by her husband (who was already seeing his girlfriend before the death), and the unnamed narrator's husband. Their neighbor's murder haunted them too. They wondered if Patty had a lover. They couldn't figure out who would kill, and more importantly, why. It kept coming back to Doris, but she was dead. Even if she did it, there wasn't legal restitution anymore. Years went by and the murder became an unsolved mystery. Readers could hazard our own guesses though. 

Tonight, we head to bed and beyond our bay window I can just make out the lights of the new subdivision. They tore down Patty’s house a few years ago. A developer bought the land and the woods and now it is an enclave of modern homes—all glass and stone and cantilevered rooflines. Houses built up into the woods where the Old Leatherman’s cave sits. Fields groomed into neat lawns.

My knees ache. My palms tingle.

I hear him stumble in the bedroom, banging his shin. I hear his soft groan as he settles on the bed, ever the impatient love interest, still mourning Patty. The past remains bottomless, a dark lake from which we drink. I have tricked him into imagining himself the murderer out of spite. All these years blaming Doris, and he is only partly right—Patty’s murder was a woman’s crime. The fork, the cord. The iron cord, not the toaster. A table fork first. These were the things at our daily disposal. Dish towel, oven mitt, apron, phone book, salt and pepper shakers, ashtray. Meat fork. We made our use of them as needed, need driving us to their use.

Moo Station SG :: ข้าวต้มแห้ง

Hopped out for a 7.15pm dinner to check out Moo Station SG — they close at 8pm. Located in a kopitiam at Crawford Lane, we thought that stopping by at dinner is a better choice since it's much quieter without the lunch crowds. We turned out to be right on all counts. The kopitiam was practically empty. Only the point-point rice stall and the prata stall were open. And the drinks stall too. A few stereotypical 'kopitiam Uncles' hung around drinking beer and stout. 

Moo Station SG sells Phuket style 'dry rice porridge' ('khao tom haeng', ข้าวต้มแห้ง); the only meat is pork. We didn't bother with the combo set. I didn't want the crispy pig skin / crackling. Eiooowww. The man took a large bowl and added an onsen egg, and I took a small. The large did come with a bigger portion of rice. But the main difference between the bowl sizes is the offal — the large bowl holds extras of kidney and intestines. I don't eat those. Mine only held stomach. Perfect. Along with the spare ribs, I tossed the one piece of liver over to the man. I didn't mind the meatballs. 

The rice was rather delicious. It was cooked in a pork stock. It was chockfull of garlic, pork bones, and definitely fats/lard. The accompanying bowl of soup was flavorful and leans salty. I suppose you could pour it into the rice like 'chazuke' if you really want. 

Ordered a plate of crispy pork belly to share too. The homemade Thai chilli sauce was fabulous. Piquant, sweet and spicy, it was paired best with crispy pork. This was by no means a light meal. It's quite oily, so go easy. The man sorted that out by stuffing his face with a bottle of 'light' beer. Okaaaaaay.

My size S bowl — without kidney and intestines. 

Stocking Up on the Dog's Beef

Choya has got her proteins rotated right from the start. She isn't exactly allergic to any protein. Her favorite proteins are venison, beef and duck, and possum. She isn't fond of crocodile, lamb or kangaroo. I don't avoid feeding her chicken. She's not allergic to it — chicken feet thrice a week is fine. But I do have to be careful about the type of chicken breast she eats. She doesn't like raw chicken breast. Although she eats it cooked (sous vide), some non-organic chickens do trigger a bit of itching. 

I like the choices of beef at FairPrice Finest. The supermarket chain partnered Culina and Swiss Butchery to provide super decent cuts of meats. Topped up Choya's stash of beef. I was pleased to see veal too. Beef is so easily found anywhere that I didn't need to get them from the canine meat suppliers. Beef is so plentiful that I can pick and choose the leanest cuts for her. 

Went out to a FairPrice Finest. Picked up vegetables and fruits first. Didn't need milk or yoghurt, so left the meats to the last. The meat counter was fully stocked that morning. Got the dog 400g of veal, 250g of flank and 400g of tasty tenderloin. And 300g of lean beef mince for the humans. Heh. 

The dog knew that the packs of beef were all for her. The veal wasn't vacuumed sealed. The other packs sat with meats, so the smells would have rubbed off too. She could smell it the moment I got home. She patiently waited for me to unpack the grocery bags, watched me slice and split them beef into meal portions to store in the freezer. Then she crept closer and asked for a few bites. Hahaha.

Watercress & Ox-tongue

I was horrified to find a 100-gram tray of sliced raw ox tongue (for yakiniku) in the freezer with its label dated May 2020. Okaaaaay. I assumed that once thawed out, it would still be edible. It should be eaten ASAP. 18 months in the freezer was wayyyy too looooong to keep any sort of food. This meant that we would just have another easy dinner at home. 

I generally don't do menu-planning that much. Casual meals at home are subjected to what my mood is, and what the supermarket has stocks of. I needed the supermarket to stock up on beef for Choya, so I also went to see what random vegetables and stuff I could get for a casual dinner the night. I was quite pleased to find super decent watercress on the shelves, as well as fresh king oyster mushrooms. Those would do nicely. 

Marinated the slices of ox tongue in salt and pepper, and seared it. It didn't need much treatment. However, they weren't brined, so it would be a tad chewy, but it should be pretty delicious. It's considered offal, but the smell isn't offensive to me. I wasn't bothered to brine a mere 100g of ox tongue. I didn't even slice it thinner. Hurhurhur.  #ImpieCooks2021

The slices of ox-tongue were quite the perfect topper to an easy and hearty stir-fry of water-cress and king oyster mushrooms with chilli padi. Two dishes would be nice. So I stir-fried another pack of vegetables in the form of Shanghai greens in garlic and fish sauce.I love vegetables anyway. Didn't bother adding any eggs. We eat them all the time, and tonight didn't need them. The man was super pleased that he got another homecooked meal out of me. Heh.

Hello Presbyopia.

So one eye has hyperopia and the other has myopia. I generally go without glasses since that does soothe my eyes, especially when I’m outdoors in natural light, exercising or having a meal. I used to wear an eye patch as a kid; didn’t really help since it isn’t actually amblyopia. I’ve learnt to wear glasses to reduce eye fatigue when I read or am on the desktop/laptop. 

However, presbyopia can affect both eyes as I age, and it might hit me in my 40s. This time has come. I felt the sight/vision shifting focal lengths in the past three months. I decided to go get my eyes checked out fully, and get a pair of cheap reading glasses. The man came along with me to get his eyes checked out too because he also felt presbyopia setting in.

What I didn’t bargain for, was to also shell out serious dough for a second pair of glasses fitted with progressive lenses. WAHHH!!! I never knew the prices! The lenses alone range from S$700 - S$2200. For the progressive lenses, I picked Zeiss over Essilor. The man followed suit, except that his lenses are way more expensive than mine because he needed them in high index and in transition lenses too. 

In addition to sorting out the eyeglass prescriptions, the optometrist did a basic eye exam as well. It’s good to know that glaucoma isn’t present, eyeball movement and the retina looks fine. However, there are symptoms of early onset of cataracts, which are nothing to worry about at this point. I’ve always had light-sensitive eyes and I hide behind sunnies all the time. I don’t have astigmatism at all. My night vision is still excellent. After asking me a string of questions, the optometrist didn’t think that a referral to an ophthalmologist was necessary. Neither did I. 

Collected my glasses. Put them on. WOW. The difference is palpable! My eyes don't feel so fatigued staring at a screen anymore. Even reading a hardcopy book feels more comfortable. Placed the reading glasses at the bedside table. Those will come in useful at night or when I read in bed. The pair with the progressive lenses would be my daily go-to. After collecting the glasses and getting back to the car, the man and I laughed and laughed. So these glasses became our 12th anniversary gifts to each other. 😂

Twelfth

So this is the 12th year of being married. And the second full year with Choya. Her anniversary gift to us, was allowing us to properly sleep for eight hours a night for two weeks in a row. (Thankfully the weather cooperated.)

I'm like, WOW. Time is time. Time flows exactly 24 hours a day at its usual stately pace. However, the past 2.5 years with the dog felt like it really flew by extra quick. The days blur into the dog's pee and poop + food schedules. Her needs are paramount. We accept the responsibilities that come along with nurturing a happy, confident and more or less obedient dog. 

Twelfth.

These 1.8 pandemic years have really made us so relieved that we made the conscious decision not to have children. Well, I knew that right from the start. But the pandemic truly hammered it in. It made us glad that in our case, we don't have children or even nieces/nephews we're obligated to. To be honest, I've never once felt any purported ticking of a biological maternal clock. It doesn't exist for me; it's not going to suddenly tick now. Being a mother to biological or adopted children is not a life role I want. Having a family framed to the society's construct doesn't sit well with me. The husband fully agrees and has my back in this aspect.  

Do we have 12 more years together? Or 24 years? 36 years perhaps? I don't know. I'll simply cherish what I have. Sure, we plan ahead. But those plans are flexible. The husband doesn't pander to my whims and I don't bend to his will. As I got older, and especially after marriage, I tend to treat discussions with the husband the way I do discussions at work or with friends. It's a mutual agreement to disagree or to eventual agreement. Point, proof and pertinence. It's an absolute joy to debate. I love it when it's clinical because it's so useful, without the annoying emotional baggage that comes along with it. It's a happy sort of negotiation and compromise. 

I don't know if we'll stay married till death do us part. We aspire to that, but who knows. However, when we're still in love with each other and keep communication channels open (that is damn hard work), then we're in a good place. Our friends are our friends, but I don't need to be friends with his friends, and he doesn't have to be friends with mine. We'll just have to respect each other's choice of friends, and the reason we're still friends. In these pandemic times, the one thing we are assured of — both of us have sane friends. Hurhurhurhurhur. We don't play games and we don't allow jealousy (not of a third party, but of each other's achievements, successes and such insidious matters) to rule. We have to be careful not to become resentful of each other. This is not a power play. We're not in a goddamn Netflix drama. 

The best thing we can do for this relationship is to provide sufficiently for our individual selves too. Our identities aren't subsumed within each other, as long-married couples tend to become. We remain equal partners who are respectful of each other, and there's always space to grow and nurture our separate interests. I'm happy with the life we have built, glad for the choices that we have made, grateful for the privileges we haver received. There mustn't be regrets, and there must be boundaries along with the love.  

12 we are. 12 it is.

Climate Change VS Our Values

Set in the future where a divorced father takes his daughter to watch birds that don't exist, I enjoyed this spin on the ecological crisis. This is the 'The Ghost Birds' by Karen Russell, published in The New Yorker on October 4, 2021. The author is an amateur birder, and the years past have inspired her to write this story. 

The father Jasper grew up in a very different world from his daughter, Starling. His childhood world had real birds. Hers doesn't. Hers has intergalactic travel and floating starships. He wanted to show her the real ghosts of the birds in this apocalyptic world where fires burn too hot for humanity to survive the way we know.

By the time I discovered the Paranormal Birding Society, extinct bird species outnumbered living ones. I should have been collecting feathers in 2040, not Orioles baseball cards and rotary telephones. I never suspected that every bird would disappear in my lifetime. Wavelengths of color and song. Ice pigeons. Yellow-eyed penguins. Great blue herons. Purple gallinules. Red-throated sunbirds. Somali ostriches. Rock doves. Day-old chicks, accumulating damage with each smoky breath. There was a last nestling of every species. On the nightly news, and outside our sealed windows, we watched birds dying from the smoke waves and the fast-moving plagues, from habitat destruction and hunger, from triple-digit temperatures and neurotoxic metals powdering the air. When I was Starling’s age, I did not understand, somehow—even as I lifted the greening copper of a twentieth-century telephone to my ear—that our time would end as well.

Sadly it is like that, isn't it? We only see many animals on National Geographic Channel or Discovery or whatever. These animals are still alive, but existing as an endangered species. Many have become extinct, and if we don't do anything about it, this fictional story might just become our reality. And I hope I don't live to see it.

Jasper is tracking down the migratory Vaux's swifts' ghosts, and is determined to let his daughter see them. Starling's mother, Jasper's ex-wife Yesenia isn't so enthusiastic about him doing that. In this new world, ghosts exist, and it only takes the right equipment to see them. 

When the carbon sinks of the world’s forests began to burn—exhaling centuries’ worth of carbon, in a protracted death rattle that continues to this day—millions of birds were dispossessed. Now the ghosts return to nest in their old homes. With the right equipment, you can sometimes hear them, even in the domed cities. Often a ghost sings for months and never materializes, and a paranormal birder must make the identification from sound alone. This is a skill that I hope to teach Starling. Not just the waiting and the listening but the openness to revelation. Which is another way of saying, to being wrong about what is possible and true.

More than a story about climate change, this is also a story about a father-daughter relationship and how he hopes to raise his daughter in this world. What are the values we hold dear? And what are the values we hope to pass on to younger people we hold dear? I know the values I hold. There're no younger people whom I need to mould. I'm no mentor, guardian or caretaker to any child, so I care a little less about the future in that sense. I do what I can now, feeble personal efforts notwithstanding, to not hasten climate change. In this story, I absolutely hated the ending. You gotta read it for yourself to find out why.

Hot, Hotter, Hottest & Hell-fire

The weather is relentless this week. By 9.30am, it's unbearable and by 10am, the concrete pavement and paths are a tad too hot for the dog's paws to walk on. She can't really walk her usual distances now. She does shorter walks with one extra water break. 

The nights are almost as bad. We sat outdoors at a bar that never faces the direction of any breeze coming through, and they never bothered to place fans at their outdoor tables. That was HOT. The humidity was crazy. I didn't even feel like having a beer or stay longer when it was so uncomfortable. When we went through the MCE/KPE to Punggol Park at 6pm, the car thermometer read 39°C for the outside temperature. Wow.

Our weather has always been hot and hotter. Hot as hell? Oh yeah. Here, Singapore. Our weather is hell. However, these two weeks have been utterly diabolical. I try not turn on the air-conditioning in the day. But I find myself turning on three fans — one ceiling and two standing just to not sit dripping in perspiration. Luckily housework isn't too sweaty; I can finish it fairly quickly and go shower. Exercising outdoors is highly uncomfortable. My sun hat, sunglasses and sunblock are my best friends.

If 2019 was the hottest year on record, then 2020 would have beat it, and 2021 is beating it hands down. If we're to hit 40°C in 2045, I think we might get there earlier. Singapore heats up twice as fast as the rest of the world on the average because we're literally feeling the effects as an 'urban heat island' (UHI). UHI has been thrown up for years, but it seems as though it's only being paid full attention now, when we feel the heat and weather patterns change. 

Image and explanation from NASA ClimateKids.

I don't even know how our efforts to mitigate the UHI effect are going to mean anything when we simply turn to air-conditioning as the solution. I'm guilty of that too. I cannot sleep without air-conditioning. As a country, we'll still have to try. Our architects and space planners will have to factor in a lot more green spaces than what we currently have. Yet we're decimating our last forests to build high-rise buildings to house more people. Hello, haven't the events of the pandemic taught planners and policy-makers anything about the population density in this city that is in ratio to making viruses very happy?

Monsoons and inter-monsoons? I feel like we're in a permanent monsoon all year round. When it storms, it floods. That's a given. Our flora and fauna are suffering, and when they can't survive, we're in trouble. Are there people who don't believe in climate change and think that it's all a hoax? Well... of course there are. I just hope they're not in key policy-making positions or lead powerful organizations that expends fossil fuels even faster. 

We're at the tail end of the Southwest Monsoon, going into that inter-monsoon before the arrival of the Northeast Monsoon in December. So the Meteorological Service forecasts more hot days and also thundery showers for the rest of the inter-monsoon period. Squalls incoming I suppose. I hate these Sumatran squalls that typically arrive in the pre-dawn hours. Man, I need my sleep. Grrrrrrrr.

Pork Everything!

I still avoid chicken. And if I go easy on beef, then daily meat proteins become fish or pork. I can deal with minced pork and pork chops. Lean pork is cool. While pig stomach soup is awesome, I'm not keen on the rest of the offal or organ soups. They kinda stink. Somehow I had a strange craving for pork at lunch. It was a casual meal with J at Din Tai Fung at NEX. J is also one of those who can inhale a 10-piece basket of xiaolongbao (小籠包) and call it lunch. We can probably do that for dinner too. HAHAHA. My jiaozi tribe!

Din Tai Fung's menu will always have easy food for us. This outlet's kitchen is decent. Not all outlets' food taste the same although they should be using identical recipes. J went for the 10-piece xiaolongbao, of course. I decided not to overestimate my stomach space, and went for the 6-piece basket instead. That was because I added the fragrant pork belly with cucumber and crushed garlic (蒜泥白肉) and Taiwanese pork chop (臺灣式炸豬骨). I'd have to finish those on my own. Hahahah. I did. No food wastage today.

I'm not hot about the sauce in the rolled pork with cucumber and crushed garlic. The kitchen drizzles 'Sichuan chilli oil'. Lately, I don't even feel like tasting it. Next time I'll ask them to leave out the sauce. Me no like Sichuan peppercorns. This is probably why I ignored J's bowl of oriental wontons with black vinegar and chilli oil (紅油炒手).

Initially I was confused by the menu description because English said 'pork chop' and menu sorta indicated 'fried spare ribs'. Okay, I shall not overthink it. Checked Google images and saw one portion stroll by to another table. It was exactly what I wanted — pork chop sliced up — all lean meat, no bones and no belly fat. No rice or noodles necessary. That was A LOT of pork. Those meats and a cold refreshing lemongrass drink made for a satisfying lunch. 

Another Episode of Shitsplosion

I'm grateful for long-time gyrotronic and pilates instructors who are understanding and don't mind too badly when I need to cancel classes at the last minute, with like six hours notice, or from the night before. They know that when I do that, it's totally an emergency and something unexpected cropped up. This is probably why I cannot sign up with gyms that don't allow last-minute cancellations. Ritual allows us to cancel classes up to 35 minutes before. That's perfect.

That weekend morning, I had to cancel a scheduled Ritual class because poor Choya had the runs. It started at 7.15am. I'm soooo thankful that I now know her cues wanting to go out to poop, and I was at home to catch it. I was awake but in bed rolling around, thinking it was a normal day. But when she started the weird zoomies, I leapt out of bed and took her out in my PJs. Those were not anxiety zoomies. She was trying to tell us something. She went to her Daddy initially. He didn't recognize it and didn't get what she was telling him. WALAOEH. That wasted five minutes. Then she came to me. I literally heard her little voice in my head that said 'Momma HELP! I really need to go NOW.' We barely made it to the grass outside. 7.15am, 9.20am, 10.30am, 11.45am. Poor girl.

This was a bad one (bits of raspberry mucus, thankfully not jam yet and no fresh blood). I was worried enough to make a 5.45pm appointment with the vet. The runs abated by noon. She ate a small lunch and kept the food down, and her stomach stayed quiet. She stayed close to me all day. At 3.15pm, I canceled the vet appointment. Of course Choya didn't poop all of the next day. Her first solid poop a day later indicated that all was okay. Her poop stayed solid and went back to normal after. 

Not all diarrhea 'cures' work for every dog. You'll have to choose what works for yours. For Choya, I have absolutely no intention of letting her go without food for a day to 'rest her gut'. It's not necessary for her when she gets this sort of runs. She is dehydrated, and will need sustenance. I fed her a smaller portion than usual, giving her the exact food she ate the night before. Her food is what will heal her gut. Her willingness to eat is also an indication of pain. She was back to her usual self by the evening. 

Although I was super confident that the poop wasn't caused by her food (she continued with her regular food), it was only on hindsight that I could pinpoint a possible cause. Even so, I'd never know for sure unless I send her liquid stool samples for analysis. The only possibility of contamination was a bad egg. But from her poop, it looked like a bad bacterial attack or more likely, mild poisoning from licking plant pesticide somewhere. This episode was sudden, virulent and explosive. Just as suddenly it attacked, it went away quickly. Haizzzzzz.

ノドグロの夕食

Dining capacity restrictions meant that we couldn't dine out with the man's parents. We still see them weekly for a meal. Them being helper-less (again) meant that we would have to be a bit circumspect in what we order to be delivered to their home. It would have to be packed in a way that require minimal clean-up. For the dad's birthday, we invited them over. Cooked a simple one-dish meal of Asian egg noodles tossed with lots of vegetables, scallops and prawns, and boiled Cantonese-style soup for them. But we don't want to do this every week. Cooking for four is very tiring when we're no cooks, and catering to different tastebuds is tough.

The parents are always nice to leave to us to order dinner for everyone. Sometimes it doesn't work. Being nice doesn't make anyone happy. Although we tell them so directly, they don't seem to understand that we don't actually eat the same food or want to eat the same foods all the time. Many restaurants generally can't cater to all of us. That is not an issue unless one makes it an issue. And my solution, is for us to each order what we want to eat from different restaurants instead of ordering from one to cater for all. The pandemic has made this so much easier. Getting takeout or delivery fixes this pronto.

While the point of having family dinners (extended or otherwise) might not be about the food, it would be made more pleasant if the food is palatable too. I rarely look forward to these dinners because I abhor the social interaction that comes with it. For an introvert, it's exhausting and it's bloody annoying. So at least, I could hope that the food is something I could eat. I need a distraction so that I could hold my tongue when opinions and viewpoints differ from mine and lean towards elitism and narrow-minded point of views. At the end of the day, I'm not a team player. I never have been and I don't want to be, so don't make me. I prefer to be known as ‘not nice’. The pandemic doesn't change this. In fact, it aided me in calling out the hypocrisy. 

That night, we decided to each order our own dinners. The man had a craving- just nice. So we ordered from Man Man Unagi — hitsumabushi of unagi for the man, and a grilled fillet of nodoguro (ノドグロ) for me. There is nothing in Man Man's menu for the in-laws. Yup. NOTHING. The in-laws chose to order in from Blue Ginger. Perfect, because there's nothing we want from Blue Ginger's menu. I don't eat unagi. But Man Man always offers an option of a fish. Tonight's nodoguro hit a spot. I enjoyed it so much that I barely reacted to anything that was said. Hurhurhur. The conversation topics aren't any of my business anyway — why bother commenting or offering a viewpoint. That's not my place to do so.

Barkifest :: Archifest X Group Therapy Coffee

Let's face it, when restaurants bother to apply for the SFA/NEA licenses to make their outdoors pet-friendly, and their food doesn't suck, many pet owners will go and have a meal. I will. The pet dollar is strong, and in these two years when restaurants are crushed, we'll support them, only if they're pet-friendly. I avoid standard dog cafes with lax rules though. Those are a stink. I really don't fancy having to discipline other people's dogs or have them jump on my thighs. That's highly irritating behavior, and not at all cute.

If SFA would stop flushing out restaurants who flout the rules and embark on a little education program by way of seminars or memos to remind restaurants to apply for Pets Allowed licenses, that would be wonderful. They should also simplify the steps for the restaurants to do so. There'll be people in the country who dislike and fear dogs, the same way they do to cats. I can understand the root causes and their feelings, but I cannot empathize with them. This world isn't about humans. 

This city is indeed built for humans, not for the dogs. It's slowly changing a little though. It takes a lot of time, but we'll get there. Archifest 2021 tries to do that, to figure out spaces for both dogs and humans, and it's a lovely thing. Design is crucial. Barkifest, under Archifest, set up an event with Group Therapy Coffee at Cross Street Exchange since they're licensed pet-friendly. 

I do visit this outlet often since it's conveniently located, is pet-friendly and it's got a decent menu and good coffee. Importantly, the menu offers me a side of hash brown with sour cream. Muahahaha. So I always enjoy a meal here. 

The cafe hosted a brunch event (the menu itself runs through the month) for humans and dogs. Barking Good set up a doggo menu there for October to cater to dogs too. So we went. Barking Good's October menu for dogs offered pumpkin pancakes and shepherd's pie (with a choice of beef, chicken or pork). Choya won't eat a meal outside of the home. So I didn't bother to get food for her there. Brought home a pork shepherd's pie for her. 

We parked at at Cross Street Exchange and had a skirmish with the building security right at the basement carpark lift lobby. He said building policies didn't allow dogs at all, not even to get from the carpark to the lift, and to the street level, where the cafe is located 20 meters outdoors. They suggested that we could (1) turn around and leave, (2) walk up the carpark ramp, (3) drop the dog first at the driveway upstairs, then park the car in the basement. The first suggestion is typical of ignorant bots. The second is totally preposterous, dangerous and downright idiotic. Damn champion. I almost laughed. The third short-sighted suggestion doesn't work for dogs with one caregiver in the car. The man totally exploded. I kept calm since yelling ain't gonna get us anywhere.

Most buildings and malls only allow entry to guide dogs, and for the rest, require dogs to be in a carrier. We can circumvent by carrying the dog quickly to walk through to get out. At our access points, Cross Street Exchange had not put up notices to inform the public that no pets are allowed in the building, and if they have to pass through, they ought to be in a carrier. Building security said no to us carrying the dog through either. Whatever. We ignored him, scooped up the dog and went upstairs anyway. There, I had a short chat separately with both the supervisor on duty at Cross Street Exchange, and later on, with the manager at Group Therapy Cafe. 

I understand policies, regardless of how dumb they might be. I do not understand idiotic suggestions from operation staff who have not been properly briefed and hence not equipped to deal with ME. I also dropped Cross Street Exchange an email via official channels. Yes, I have received a reply. The building management would have to decide on the policies they wish to adopt and have the balls to own it. Then they ought to adequately brief the security team. A building has a dog-friendly cafe on the premises outside of the air-conditioned area, but nowhere to allow cars to park and let dogs walk through. That's just inconsiderate and unfriendly. This Archifest/Barkifest event is SO TIMELY. 

What is a Living Wage to You?

What caught my eye in this article published by TODAY on 9 October, 2021, was how quickly our Ministry of Finance (MOF) rejected the study's findings. In the article titled, 'Parents with 2 children need to earn about S$5,800 to $6,400 monthly for basic standard of living: Study', TODAY mentioned an 80-page study done by a six-person research team from Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy (LKYSPP). It suggested that "a couple with two children (aged 7-12 and 13-18) need $6,426 a month, while a single parent with one child (aged 2-6) needs $3,218 a month." 

(This study presented by LKYSPP is available online.) 

Channel News Asia reported more on the statement released by MOF. The Ministry pointed out that the study didn't take into account the amount of subsidies (from various sources at statutory boards, other Ministries and organizations) and government support received by low-income families. 

In a statement issued on Friday, the Ministry of Finance (MOF) said: “Anyone reading the LKYSPP report should bear in mind the limitations of the approach used. The conclusions may not be an accurate reflection of basic needs largely due to assumptions used.”

The ministry noted that the methodology used is “highly dependent” on group dynamics and profile of the participants.

“With most participants having post-secondary education and 15 per cent living in private properties, the findings expressed may not be reflective of the circumstances of the lower-income families,” it said.

For instance, estimates included discretionary expenditure items such as private enrichment classes, jewellery, perfumes and overseas holidays, said MOF.

I'd do well to remember that any study done by the Ministry must also be taken in the same context. It doesn't mean that the Ministry can reflect 'accurate findings' although they might have access to a larger sample pool. If this information is for public good, then shouldn't we have two reports done? One by academics and sociologists, and one by the Ministry? If we end up with such contrasting figures, then there must be a blind spot somewhere. Could we then have a civilized debate and presentation about it?

If the Ministry pans the figures and parameters and the methodology used, then they might need to be a little more open-minded. Attitudes and aspirations change. People's expectations of a living wage shifts in a matter of three years. People redefine what's 'basic'. We are an entitled bunch. We have changed what most countries use to define 'basic necessities' in day-to-day living. If the Ministry follows these international definitions to define baselines and reject everything else above it, then it's lying to itself or seeing our society through rose-tinted lenses.  

The researchers suggested that,

“Any living wage, since it is a single wage level that applies to all workers regardless of what households they live in, will produce household incomes that are more than what some households need, for example, the smaller households, and less than what others require, for example, the larger households or those with special needs.

"The exact assumptions and compromises that are acceptable when determining a living wage is a matter for public deliberation. For Singapore, such deliberations may eventually result in a different figure from the one presented here in the study, especially if more data on the distribution of household types become available," they added. 

(Highlights are mine.)

It's ironic then, in that statement, the Ministry acknowledged that,

“The amounts reflected in the report are what median earner receives, not low-income families,” said the ministry.

It added that the report offers additional data points on the expectations and aspirations of Singaporeans, “which will continue to evolve over time”.  

“The Government is sensitive to these shifts and regularly reviews our scope and coverage of assistance to ensure it is relevant and adequate,” said MOF.

Erm. This is what the LKYSPP study said right? A living wage. The median. A basic standard of living plus a little more. A wage that most people can live on, and hopefully we get year-end bonuses. It isn't exactly fighting with the statistics on what constitute the definition of poverty lines in Singapore. This is slightly more than the defined basic cost of living. So to earn a living wage is pretty much to exist miserably, but with more hope. It's still having to live day to day, from paycheck to paycheck. 

What is my basic standard of living? Why should I let someone tell me what my basic standard of living ought to be? If I can draw a monthly wage, not bust the monthly budget, then I have every right to aspire to have a higher income in this city. That will then become my living wage. I'd wish that employers and the government acknowledge this, instead of telling me to 'live within my means', of which I already do, but I'll get judged for my choice of laptop or phone model, which will obviously be the latest.

Since it's all about personal thresholds, then I can tell you that I can't raise a child on $6426 a month. No way I can do it on $3218 a month. I can, however, live quite comfortably alone on $6426 a month if I needn't subtract rent or mortgage out of it. BUT, I'd be hard-pressed to live on $3218 a month, even without paying rent or factoring in leisure traveling. That means I live from paycheck to paycheck, with barely enough to fulfill medical insurance premiums, without leeway for savings, and no avenues for investments. This is how our elderly folks end up still working manual jobs at 70 years old. This living wage of a monthly $3218, will not be sufficient to build a nest egg to sustain for my later 15 years of retirement in Singapore. And I can't plan when to die. 

Som Tam at Flying Pig

Golden Mile Complex's entrance still looked like they haven't totally cleared the rubble, and parts of it are cordoned off. The carpark looked like a construction dump site. The section of false ceiling at the entrance that fell in April is still not repaired. At this rate, the whole building might soon crumble. Ugh. 

After getting some groceries at the Thai supermarket, we stopped by Flying Pig for dinner. The man actually bothered to read up about the signature dishes of the eatery. I didn't bother. I simply assumed that its noodles and pork items were decent, totally based off its signboard. Hahaha.

Its supposedly famous omelette crab fried rice was mediocre. It had no wok-hei, and while generous with the portion of crab meat, the frozen meat used lent it no sweetness. The omelette was really good! The fried rice was decent, but we felt that its other dishes were much better executed. The garlic pork with steamed rice was really decent. The restaurant is generous with its portions. The beef soup was rich and flavorful, with loads of tender shin beef and pieces of tendon. I'd say that its noodles and soups beat that fried rice any day. I love it that I could choose a few kinds of noodles to go with the soups of pork or beef. 

What turned out unexpectedly delicious was the som tam. I loved it! Not that many eateries could churn out a good som tam. That night, Flying Pig did. It was suitably pungent, tangy and spicy. Superbly well balanced. What a treat. I seriously considered ordering a second serving. Haha. I'd totally come back for its som tam and a bowl of noodles.  Ahhhhhh..... I haven't had good som tam in a while. I miss all these legit spices, and totally miss eating out in Bangkok, and Thailand in general.  

Going Up Against Tech Giants

Dave Eggers said this before his new book came out. And he is truly doing it now. It takes writers with balls to do it. Not everyone will or can. But he is. He's making a stand against Amazon. However meagre these efforts might be, it is a humongous step for authors and independent bookstores. 

Published by McSweeney's (founded by the author), the hardcover of the new 'The Every' will only be available in independent bookstores. The paperback, published by Vintage, arrives six weeks later to every store, and along with it, the audiobook. The New York Times quoted him in an article published on June 9, 2021,

Eggers said that even distributing the book in a way that excluded Amazon was a challenge, because McSweeney’s usual agreement with its distributor, Baker & Taylor Publisher Services, prevented it from circumventing the retail giant. Vintage, part of Penguin Random House, would not be in a position to skip around them either.

As a consumer, I'm not sure whose side I stand on. To be very frank, I stand on the side that grants me the cheapest option on the Kindle (unfortunately, Amazon), or to borrow from the library (of which I wouldn't care where they get it from). I can't buy too many physical books now. So I'm constricted by physical space. If I don't buy e-books from Amazon, then I need options in order to support the independent bookstores. I won't be petulant and not get to read a book, or end up having to buy a hard copy. 

In an October 3, 2021 comment, The Guardian called it "taking a stand" too, and described it as a "typical move for Eggers". UK booksellers and the community seem to be pushing hard against the wave of Goliath tech in the industry.

They are pushing back against the dominance of online bookselling. They also have bookshops become venues and community focal points for reading events and as outlets to protect the reading public's mental health. 

Singapore, well, we uhhh.... don't have many physical bookstores left. We only have like three English bookstores, and Kinokuniya. The Chinese bookstores are still present, with some new ones sprouting. Most of us have shifted e-books methinks, buying hard copies only when we really enjoy a book or in support of an author. 

The plight of the high street bookshop, struggling against the power of the online giants, is a common complaint either side of the Atlantic. But not often do the prominent players, the authors and publishers, put their words into action and take a stand against the tide.

This month, Dave Eggers, the award-winning campaigning author, is to risk American sales of his new novel, The Every, by limiting access to the hardback copies. Only small bookstores will stock it.  It is a typical move for Eggers, who has long pushed back against the conventions of the industry, setting up his own non-profit publishing house, McSweeney’s, in 1998, two years before his breakout bestseller A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. But it is also something that fits neatly with the subject of his new book. A sequel to his 2013 hit, The Circle, it is a dystopian satire, featuring a company that looks much like Amazon.

The hardcopy is now out. I eagerly await the audiobook, and hope the e-book comes out along with it. Perhaps I'll buy the paperback if I like it enough. I can't wait to read the book. It's a sequel to 'The Circle' (2013). I have read and clean forgotten the story, so I need to re-read it before I get to 'The Every'. I have six weeks to do it. Heh.

Savory & Sweet Scones

I was acquainted with Elaine's scones when Kizuna opened last year. When I tasted the scones made for humans, I was quite blown away. Scones aren't meant to be high in sugar content, so I'm open to eating them. The scones baked by Scones et Beurre (via IG) are fairly innovative in taste, and mild. Therefore the nasi lemak scones really tasted savory. 

I'm happy for Elaine that her bakes are selling out like...... hot scones now, all the time. Heh. Pleased that we got an October slot for Choya's PupScones, and also scones for us humans. Her flavors vary month on month, and once the month's flavors are announced, the order slots open on IG via GoogleForm. They sell out fast. This round, I ordered coconut and pineapple, genmaicha and cranberry, and earl gray and fig.

The man loved the coconut and pineapple scones, and liked them warmed in the oven. So I kept all six of those flavors for him. I like the others, especially the genmaicha and cranberry. Since these aren't savory nasi lemak or hae bee hiam, I didn't mind having them warm or cold. Cold scones from the fridge would eventually warm up in room temperature. Hurhurhur. The scones went fast. Hahaha. Oddly, I don't like plain scones with butter and cream or jam. I like flavored scones, and preferably still low on sugar, or if they're savory. These definitely hit a spot. 

Don't Kill the BFF's Plants

The BFF has hightailed out of town and taken the grand VTL (Vaccinated Travel Lane) route to Germany. There was so much admin prep work to be done before she left town, and a PCR test to do. She also had a really lengthy shopping list to fulfill, and to pack all those into her luggage. We managed to get lunch before she flew out.

Of course it had to be Asian food. Simple fare that she wouldn't be able to easily obtain in Germany. The flavors are different, and she kinda knows what to expect food-wise. Hurhurhur. She'd have to cook, and I think by the end of the month, she would be cooking like a pro back in Beijing-Shanghai days. Teheheheeh.

The BFF also left me to babysit her plants. OMG. What do I know about plants? I'm no plant parent. I don't even like them very much. Also, I cannot have flowering plants. The pollen will irritate the shit out of my airways and keep my eyes swollen for days. No plants indoors. I dunno if she calls them 'plant babies'. She likes plants but she doesn't seem to go gaga all over them. I don't care. They're just... GREEN THINGS. 

I told her that I wouldn't even know how to try my best to keep them alive because I don't know what to do with them. They'd just sit in the patio and get some sun and breeze, and I'd just sprinkle some water on them once a week. They have survived a few thunderstorms so far. I hope they continue to uhhhh survive. If they live, hurrah... if they wilt, she's not to smack me.    

Choya is 4!!!

Choya turned four over the weekend. I didn't bother to get her a meat-cake of any sort. She eats well enough lah. Of course I wouldn't give her that much cheese. Any extras = shitsplosion, sadly. 

She did have PupScones lovingly baked by Elaine of Scones et Beurre. Being on a raw diet doesn't mean she can't have scones at all. She isn't allergic to flour or grains although I don't encourage those in her food and minimize the intake. She could have some scones, and the point was also to share the rest with our neighbors' pups. 

The birthday girl had loads of fun over the her birthday week. She went to school to play with her friends and shared treatos with them. Yours truly cannot deal with any birthday party thing, so I randomly staggered walk-meet-dates with her other friends on other days. These aren't exactly play-dates since she doesn't really play anymore. They just like walking along next to each other.

Then right on her birthday morning walk, she fell into the pond and got her ego bruised. She clambered out and looked rather annoyed. Her lower body was soaked. On the way back via this same way, she jumped over the rocks again, and didn't fall in this round. Although she dried off quickly, I decided that a wipe-down wouldn't be enough. Pond water is eeky, and this isn't a natural pond. So when we got home, she got a bath out of the schedule. She wasn't too pleased. Hurhurhur.

I don't need the friends to remember the dog's birthday. Good gawwwd, no. If they happen to see a social media post and wish her, that's lovely. But they aren't obligated or needed to wish the girl. It's not a big deal. She doesn't care. Neither do I. Hahahah. This isn't like 'You have to remember everything about my dog', because chances are, I might not remember everything about your dog/cat/chicken/fish/bunny either! So for me, if your pets don't have a social media account and not on TikTok, I'm very receptive to text updates you choose to give me about your pet. Oof! 

We kept our dinner reservation at Tomahawk, but decreased the covers to the permitted two persons to dine-in. The lovely folks at Tomahawk got Choya a birthday balloon with a specially printed ribbon of her name. Awwwww... There was a party hat at the side for her to play with too. She was not impressed, and shook it off within five seconds of having it on top of head. She allowed me to take one quick photo though.

So according to her star sign, this girl is a Libra. Hmmmmf. I died laughing at this fluffy article that suggested compatible dog breeds with my Aquarius. NO. Just gimme the Shiba-ken, thanks. The weekly/monthly/general predictions for star signs are really fun to read. They don't rule my life although I do wonder whether that has anything to do with the bond between Choya and I. It has definitely deepened tremendously this year. Apparently a Libra and an Aquarius have a harmonious friendship. Hmmmmm. 

I think Choya knew that this weekend was special, but she didn't know why. She was just happy to have our attention, extra walks and outings. By Monday night, she was flat out exhausted and snoozing deeply. I don't know what Choya would wish for. I wish that she would wish for ten more good years with us. As the years pass, it gets a little more painful as our pets age and slow down. I'm determined to give her a good and fun life no matter what it takes. Her quality of life is my most important priority. No, scratch that, her poop and pee are my daily concerns now. Ha!  

今村夏子『むらさきのスカートの女』

Made a reservation at the National Library for a digital copy of Natusko Imamura’s ‘The Woman in the Purple Skirt’ (2021), 今村夏子『むらさきのスカートの女』, translated by Lucy North. Blinked when I saw the queue. 89 digital copies all out on loan, and there were 67 people in the queue. Okay lor. Y’all please read faster. It would be about four to five days before I got my digital loan. (Reviews here, here, and here.)

I would have read this in Japanese first, but my reading speed is much slower. I understand that this is a relatively easy book to read in Japanese since it's a short story, and the prose is simple, with nothing complicated within. However, when my work is about doing translations, I think I want to be lazy and do leisure reading in my master and thought language. So reading this in English it is! The odd thing, I keep translating it into Japanese in my mind. LOL Had to eventually borrow a copy to read it in Japanese. Dohhh. As good as a translator is, some things/phrases are lost in translation. It was very much more enjoyable to read this book in its original language. 

The narrator likes to watch this woman in the neighborhood known as 'The Woman in the Purple Skirt', 「むらさきのスカートの女」. The first three pages tell us that, and how creepy the narrator is. This woman is sort of periodically employed. Other than that, her favorite pastime is to go to the bakery, get a cream bun with almond flakes, go to park and sit on the bench to eat. The narrator calls herself 'The Woman in the Yellow Cardigan' ,「黄色いカーディガンの女」. The narrator begins creepy moves such as following the Purple Skirt Woman, listening to her conversations, tracking her purchases and even lurking outside the front door of her apartment, exhibiting classic stalker behavior. 

While I didn't accompany her to every interview, the Woman in the Purple Skirt applied for a number of other jobs too, after that spate of attempts, and often in tandem. She didn't get any of them. Hardly surprising, considering the kinds of jobs she chose—all totally unsuitable. Telephone receptionist, shopping plaza floor guide, et cetera. Would you believe that she even applied to be a waitress? Why would anyone hire someone as a waitress in a cafe who is happy to drink straight from the water fountain in her local park? Clearly, the repeated rejections were affecting hr mind. Needless to say, the cafe told her to get lost. 

And so, I am sorry to say, it was a good three months before the Woman in the Purple Skirt finally had a telephone interview to work at a place that was willing to consider hiring her. During that time, I had visited the convenience store to collect the jobs magazine for her a good ten times.

Purple Skirt Woman, whose name is Mayuko Hino, ends up working as a hotel housekeeper, contracted by the agency to the same hotel the narrator works at. She completes her training within two weeks, and seems to have fallen into a romantic affair with the agency director. As quickly as the affair began, it ended. The agency director didn’t even pick up her calls. The whole turn of events is of course followed and observed by the narrator. 

It was only later on that the plot moved. Mayuko was accused of stealing hotel items to sell at a school bazaar. The agency director came to her house to tell her to admit it and write a formal statement to apologize. She insisted that she didn’t do it. In the ensuing physical altercation, she accidentally pushed the agency director, and he fell, and was unconscious. The narrator was present too, of course. The Woman in Yellow Cardigan is also Supervisor Gondo. Mayuko thought that she had killed him.

Gondo helped Mayuko flee the scene. She was pleased that Mayuko finally noticed her, and knew jer name. Gondo gave Mayuko money, her commuter pass and instructions to the pre-loaded lockers at the train stations, and told her to take the contents. She told her to meet in the next town. Mayuko predictably never showed up. She had gone somewhere else, rather than meet with this weirdo who came out of nowhere. 

Gondo returned to work, disappointed, dejected and penniless. Dunno how she managed to keep her job with all the frequent absences. She became unnoticed and ignored again. She had to blackmail the injured and hospitalized agency director to get a loan because she was completely broke, and got evicted from her flat. The whole cycle of pilfering to sell for a small profit, envy, loneliness, while stuck in a dead-end job surviving on minimal wages and low self-esteem began anew for Gondo. All she wants, is a friend, and to be noticed. But nobody does. Gondo remains The Woman in Yellow Cardigan who is so plain that nobody remembers her. It’s such a sad urban tale. Creepy too, yes.