@Teadot Iluma
I’m feeling low, because a friend is feeling so. This doesn’t feel real. It tears at my heart just thinking about it.
I’m supposed to be working, but I can’t seem to do anything but scroll through the missy’s photos and videos.
And she makes everything better. My little cheer-upper.
It was supposed to be a swim date with the Kohs today. As luck would have it, the huddy got a recall back to the army, just as we were able to step out of the house. So there goes a beautiful day out.
I haven’t felt this disappointed in a while. This flip-flop in my heart. And so I look for cheer-uppers, and found these.
Snapshots of Latte boy and Missy Raeann. Missy settled on a nice neat routine (two naps a day, one-half hours each, bedtime at 8-8.30pm, three meals of solids, four milk feeds). A dear dear dear friend homeward-bound in four days. Chocolate swirl pound cake with lemonade. New onesies for the Missy on the way to the mailbox. A vintagey ring from the huddy. Drippy, cooler day. A long warm bath with the Missy.
No pool, we’ll make do.
I’m one singsongy mommy.
Diapertime, bathtime, bedtime, playtime, anytime.
And it bugs me to no end that I can’t find a decent Chinese song to sing to the missy.
Why do we glorify a song that tells children it is strange to have no eyes? Why do we other-ize? (Think San Zhi Hao Hu.)
What’s so strange about giving a dollar instead of the fifty cents’ fare? There is such a thing known as change. Or tips. (Think San Lun Che.)
And must we tell a child that being without a mother makes one stray like grass? Where is the sensitivity? (Think Ma Ma Hao.)
I feel ashamed of our Chinese songs. I really do.
Missy Raeann will not be stepping foot into any playschools that sing these discriminatory songs. And I’m prepared to give these schools a piece of my mind too.
The heart sank a little when her beautiful tresses got snipped. Straight across. And after my repeated instructions, “Keep them wispy and layered. Just trim the length.” To think it was a reputable chain for cutting tots’ hair. No more, no more. Go to the Junior League at Suntec, never the one at United Square.
Before the dreadful cut.
During the dreadful cut. I think she knows it's gonna be ugly.
After the dreadful cut. UGLY!!!
On a happier note, it’s growing out fine, mm by mm. And my in-laws adore the cut.
Meanwhile, this mommy is desperately ruffling up her hair to ‘un-nerd’ the look.
So much is happening around the world. So senseless, so very painful. I feel heavy, a little teary even. While watching the news, arms wrapped around my knees, my heart scrunched up like a piece of unwanted paper. This is the kind of world my little daughter is going to grow up in. Daughter – the word that seems so big my heart aches when I say it. The ache that comes with loving someone so much, so intensely. My beautiful girl, I must keep you safe in this crazy world.
To peace.
It’s a bad bad bad cough. Illnesses don’t find their way to me that easily. Coughs do. Not too long ago, when I just knew about the little one in me, I had a bad streak. Now, it’s back with a vengeance. So sore I couldn’t sleep last night. So infected there was a little blood in each spit of the phlegm. So bad I had to get someone to stand in for my class today. The rest at home did wonders. And fluids and herbal lozenges from the gynae (my student bought me strepsils too!) and sleep and tender loving care from the huddy and Latte boy. Now I talk, not croak.
The rain is most untimely. It is still raining oceans, and I don’t like it that the homeland is dark in the mid-afternoon. The laundry hangs damp and heavy, not quite drying. And I have a throat so sore, a nose so insensitive, I can’t taste my food. Baby has been kicking, and while it’s a little tickling to see the tummy move ever so randomly, I’m kind of hoping she’ll stop for a minute. One more class to be graded, but I’m tired.
It’s one of those days when I feel a grey as saturated as the sky outside.
I need to bake. Cream cheese and cinnamon bread.
With a pot of hot earl grey for late afternoon tea with my Latte boy.
He’ll get a cookie. Maybe two.
We wanted to bring Latte to the Earth Cafe for a while. So on this glorious evening of pinkish dusk, we walked him over. And it was a major disappointment.
Still, the darling had a fabulous time frolicking, herding and just being happy. For that, I’m thankful that there is such a space in the neighbourhood within walking distance.
It got us thinking on the walk back home. One day when we have the resources to set up one ourselves, it’ll be one done with love, done for love. Dogs deserve much much more than what they are getting at this cafe. We won’t be back.
dec 25 tue, 12.02am:: screen froze. can’t boot up.
dec 26 wed, 3.30pm:: reached epicentre, wheelock. waited for almost two hours. was told to wait for email for official diagnosis and quotation. service would take five working days. i forgot to ask if it’s five from acceptance of quotation, or five from the day i brought the mac down. does not matter, since it appears that diversitec (the apple support) can’t count.
dec 28 fri:: received call that my white beauty was officially dead. no email sent because his server was down (!!!). i accepted quotation, and was told that i could collect my mac by end of next week, probably friday latest.
dec 29 sat:: more than an hour on the phone with apple’s customer relations officers to demand compensation for their tawdry, inferior product that’s obviously designed to spoil. mission failed.
jan 4 fri:: no calls, no emails. zilch.
jan 5 sat:: called up diversitec to check on status -
mr apple: oh miss kho. you haven’t accepted our quotation right?
me: i did! remember you called me on 28 dec to say your server was down and asked if i wanted to carry on with replacement of the hard disk???????
mr apple: oh oh. yah. oh. yah. i wanted to call our customers today. you know, ah, yah, our supplier cannot deliver the hard disks to us. so there will be some delay.
me: you said it’ll be done within five working days, then it became friday. today’s already saturday and you’re telling me it is still not ready?
mr apple: yah yah. oh. yah. the supplier don’t have the hard disks, so yah yah. you can get it latest mon evening. i’ll call you again when it’s ready.
jan 7 mon 12 noon:: no news, so i called up again. was told by the same mr apple that i can collect at 4pm. i had training then, so i told him i’ll be there around dinnertime. he said “sure, anytime. it’ll be ready by four.”
jan 7 mon 6.45 pm:: saw the big sign at the service centre – *Please note that waiting time during peak hours (mon-sat 11am-3pm) will be 30-45 min.* i waited two hours on boxing day, and now 45 min during off-peak hours. the sign must be lying.
7.30 pm:: finally my turn.
ms apple: mam, you cancelled your repair order is it?
me: what????? of course i didn’t! why would I be here at your collection counter if i had cancelled??? your colleague said i could be here at 4pm to collect my laptop! (i wanted to club her really. i haven’t had dinner, my latte’s alone at home the whole day, and she had just asked the silliest question on earth.)
7.35 pm::
ms apple: mam, you can come back one hour later?
me: oh, so i come back after your service centre closes, right? (closing time is 8.30am. i am ready to club her with my rare loud words with a mean spin.)
ms apple: erm. ok, you can come back at 8.15.
me: (very loudly) 8.15. you said 8.15. so will i really get back my laptop at 8.15?
ms apple:: yes mam.
i walked out, and the people were all staring at me. for once, i didn’t care.
8.15 pm:: no one at collection counter. i pointed to my watch, “hi, it’s 8.15 now.”
ms apple nodded, went in to the collection room, came back empty-handed.
ms apple:: mam, you can take a seat first. we’ll call you when your laptop is ready.
i wanted to scream. my very zen husband was happily playing the xbox at one corner.
8.35 pm:: mr apple calls for me. EMPTY-HANDED.
mr apple:: eh mam, do you have the installation disk? eh. yah. we lost part of the disks so cannot install for you. eh maybe we put into customer’s laptop and forgot to remove. so cannot install. can you install on your own?
me:: wow, the whole centre has just one set of installation disks! i have the disks, just give me my laptop. NOW.
mr apple:: ok. please wait.
8.40 pm::
mr apple: oh sorry, my guy put in the wrong disk just now. now it’s ok. we’ve installed for you.
i am one very very unhappy customer. and very ready to whip out a long and detailed complaint letter.
bye bye pretty and not-so-pretty pictures. the honeymoon, latte boy, the everyday. all gone. gone two minutes into christmas, how timely. i can only wish i posted more on this blog so i have more salvaged in the pictorial treasure chest. the consolation is that we printed most of the honeymoon pretties, had some on lomo, and there are latte’s many glorious faces still intact on our mobiles.
$74.90 for diagnostic test. $321 for new hard disk and labour cost. more than one hour on the phone with the customer relations officers. anger. tears. heartache. i had come on to rant, to whine. but as i write, the memories of many merry yesterdays crowd together like thick fog. i can only smile that my internal camera has captured them all. the moments are mine to keep.
great as mac may be, some apple things are just tawdry. so if your macbook is still under the one year warranty, buy the extended three-year apple care now now now. and back up now now now. don’t pay the huge price like i did.
i feel my heart wrenching up again.
and so this is christmas. so homey, so toasty.
the night before eve, we exchanged gifts and christmas kisses (somehow, we can never wait till the eve. i’ll try harder next year and put the presents under the tree). we had a quiet moment snuggled up and reading the christmas poem i wrote for him, then the christmas collie in bed, with latte asleep under the bed. such a beautiful story of boy-dog love it made me want to hug my knees.
on the eve, we spent a good half day marinating, frying, baking, basting, roasting, tasting, and loving every moment of it. there is nothing like a warm kitchen smelling of christmas goodies, of two people in love cooking for the people they love. it still amazes me how a dinner that took hours to prepare can be finished in a matter of minutes. but it was splendid, and that’s what matters. i love how the cold wine warmed my chest as it went down. i love how angie and waifu said they liked my mango cheesecake more than the ones sold commercially. i love how the simplest of mint sauce added a sharp zest to roast lamb. i love how the foccacia we baked tasted so heavenly in the seafood bisque the huddy spent the afternoon preparing. i love how the black forest berries in the log cake squished in my mouth to release the berry-ey oomph i so miss. i love the sharing of chocolates in the tangerine light of the homeland. and most of all, i love love love the company. people who count are the real beauty of the season.
it would be so nice to end this with another i-love-it note. but my beloved macbook died on me just minutes after twelve midnight, and my boy’s pictures may never be recovered. the thought of it sinks me down so. it’s so painful.
merry christmas, my friends. and back up your stuff while you still have them.
on this rainy sunday, i have a leaking nose and an itchy throat. i also have the sweetest dog who curls up on my tummy to keep me warm. and a man who makes me soup the country way to make sure i eat. then he gives me a kiss on the lips and i saw two of him. now, it’s time to sleep.
she was probably only six then. she licked my hand gently for the first time, and i remembered how i told andy, we’ll never find a dog as sweet as casey.
we keep a photo folder of her. one day, we tell ourselves, our latte boy will sit right next to her, smiling widely. big sister and little brother.
tonight, i let the tears flow and the memories spill. how else do you remember, i don’t know.
i ask andy if she can hear me. if there’s a heaven, will she be happy?
he says she will. gideon says it’s the best for her. it’s just time to let go. and i know it’s true.
so goodbye casey. you’ll be happy up there, won’t you?
i know your birthday is coming, and i have my own plans to celebrate it for you. don’t tell me how much money i should give you as ang bao. dont ask me how much your present costs. twenty-six years and i can count the number of years you remember mine with one hand. it hurts me so deep to know you treat me like an investment that has matured. the more you demand, the more i do not want to supply. the more you expect, the more i want to withhold. and it doesnt help that the huddy’s folks are just angels who give so much more than they take. mine just asks for more. and more and more and more. it’s disgusting.
the rain makes everything look washed. i have forgotten what it feels like to have the sunshine spread across our bed like a warm quilt. these days, we just slumber on. i like to watch the rain. the trees don a different shade of green, a shiny one. some drops are larger than others, like a water installation. nature has a way of making things pretty and i adore that. i like to see which neighbours left their laundry out in the rain, and i wonder if they are still too sound asleep, or it’s just an empty home in the day with wet laundry. i think about how much frustration they would have to find their clothes wetter than before, and they would have to wash them again. before i got married, i used to handwash my clothes, and it’s sheer pain just thinking about it. this morning, i looked out of the kitchen window and saw the ongoing of the last rites for the person who plunged down a few days ago. some schoolboy who was walking nearby was apparently drenched in blood from the plunge. i ache just thinking how sad the person must be to end his or her life this way. the rain pours down mercilessly in this last journey. it’s almost wrong, i feel. for once, i want the rain to stop.
the indian neighbour working in nea informed the mister this morning that there are two dengue cases right across our block. not surprising, considering the mister has once caught a suspicious-looking mozzie flying up from the playground below and made a whistle-blowing call to nea on it and uncovered bamboo holes in the neighbourhood. it really takes just one inconsiderate being to cause pain to the others. mozzies and dengue be damned. she has kindly offered to give us a glob of brown thingy which in her own words, is “very smelly”. the niceties of the folks on the floor. all plant-loving neighbours, the floor is a lush green, a brilliant mosaic of pretty colours. and the well-behaved sun has done much good to our greens and blossoms. the papaya plant has grown to my chest level. the longan seedlings are strong enough for our second round of natural selection. the pandan, lovelier than i have ever seen it. the hydrangea with new shoots sprouting. and my dear petunias. dark violet and fushcia pink, dancing in the wind. regretfully, it’s only one more month of luxurious sunshine before it migrates to the kitchen, and the greens will go all limpy again.
the floral-scented morning was almost ruined by the awful auntie in amei.
mister:: there’s chicken shit on the eggshell. can you give me another egg?
awful auntie:: (scrapes the shit off with her stubby fingers, shows it to the mister) there, ok already.
mister:: eh no, can you give me another one?
awful auntie:: (picks another one) cracked one, can or not?
mister:: no, can you give me a good egg? thanks.
awful auntie:: (unwillingly gives a good egg) nah.
she stared at him on our way out and mumbled something to her colleague. nothing good i believe.
un-confetti experience.
the serenity made me all chokey. i havent been taught by him, but any lecturer in sociology felt family. the bunch of us launched into streams of mindless prattle after some solemn quiet moments, as if to normalise what has seemed to be an awkward anomaly. i said a little prayer. to whom, i dont know. for whom, i’m sure. for all those who ache with his loss. for strength, for comfort. i saw the look in her eyes, and i wish i could do so much more. the late friday night out with the soci bunch tired me out completely, but i had sips of wonderful, bracing coffee the following arvo which makes everything alright again. i’m glad i didnt bring those sheets home to work on. all i want to do this weekend is to enjoy the quiet murmur of the neighbourhood.
someone stole our petunia. we grew them from seeds and i was ready to greet the sixth bloom this evening. i am so ready to bite now. beware, you thief.
i need to learn to be more contented. i cant have both loves, i finally realise. i chose the obvious one. it aches a little, but maybe i just have to ache to appreciate what i have. so bye bye, love.
