Thursday morning. No school for Edrick. It was shower time before going out to Crocus City Mall with the ladies, Aunty Lirang and Aunty Marilyn. When shower was done, I lifted Edrick up and out of the tub (the kids’ bathroom only has the shower-in-tub type of shower).
Edrick: Mom, don’t put me in the rubbish!
Mommy: I’m not going to put you in the rubbish!
The rubbish bin was right next to the tub, but I was not even lifting my son over where the bin was. In fact, I did it over the opposite direction.
Mommy: What made you think I was going to put you in the rubbish? You’re not garbage!
Edrick: No, I’m not! Just don’t put me in the rubbish, ok?!
Mommy: I won’t! *frowns the “Huh?” frown*
Edrick: Promise!
Mommy: Okay, okay! I promise! *looks very comically confused as her jaw drops to the bathroom floor*
Edrick: And promise you won’t get angry ever again!
Mommy: *takes 2.33 seconds to gear up into full speed and with her brain still going at 23,000rps…explodes into the loudest laughter, louder than what all kememel les mim burse’s put together can ever make*
Edrick: Mommy! I.t.’s. n.o.t f.u.n.n.y!
Mommy: *is not able to control her after-explosion chuckles, realizes that she is being tricked into making an extremely challenging promise*
Edrick: Mommmmy! You’re not listening to me!
Mommy: Muahahaha! Ahah, aahaahhhaah! I can’t promise you that I won’t get angry ever again. Muahahaha! Ahah, aahaahhhaah! But I can promise I will never… ever put you in the rubbish! Ever!
Edrick: Thaaatzzz promising!
Mommy: *watches her jaw drop to the floor again, neither able to comprehend where all the sudden lightning strikes from, nor able to pick up her jaw*
We have been talking about it for three weeks at least. And it has got to get done this very week. No later. You never know what not-so-positive influence the Russian government has on the way the Canadian Embassy in Moscow works. My Canadian Temporary Resident visa has to be applied today, February the 5th, 2010 – my KaCher’s birthday – not next week, not the week after. It is now or never later!
So we looked at the last Canadian TR I had back in 2005-2007 in my previous passport. Confirmed expired. We downloaded forms, filled the forms in, and dug the fire-safety box for passport photos. I had everything ready and lined up to the very boots by the door and to the very watch to wear to the embassy this morning. The alarm clock was set. I woke up before it went off anyway! And oh, my sunglasses are wide awake for me on the kitchen counter. All ready.
By ten to seven this morning, the kids’ lunchboxes were ready. I was ready… to jump in the shower. I even skipped singing my morning Siti Payung! I was in such a hurry to beat the Moscow traffic. Alas! Hiccup number one: Emy got in late. Hiccup number two: Be got nervous and stressed out. But I… I got, uh… ready. Yep, sunglasses in my hair and all.
Ten minutes on the road, we were stuck on Volokolomskaya. Ahhh great! We’d never make it to the Canadian Embassy at 0829hrs as Be wanted to lead the line-up at the embassy gate. Instead, we were in a huge line up going towards Lenningradsky Prospekt. So I took out my current passport just to check if my memory served me right. I thought it wasn’t that long ago we were quietly making fun at the clerks at the Canadian Consulate in that Tan&Tan Building in KL.
Just when I saw the Canadä sticker on page 10, my heart stopped beating. I knew I was going to have a cardiopulmonary arrest right there and then caused by ventricular fibrillation! (Thanks to Dr. Tranquility for his medical terms that make me sound like I just had an emergency cut-n-paste case from his blog!) All the stress we had had for three !?#$%^&* weeks went from my brain down to my heart and further down and behind to my juboar and if it were a gas, I could have floated the whole city!
I just made a good mistake.
There, on page 10 of my passport, is my Canadian Visa good until October 15th, 2012!
No. We would not have had to talk and get all stressed out about it for three !?#$%^&* weeks if I had trusted my memory of those silly clerks at the Canadian Consulate in the Tan&Tan Building Jalan Tun Razak KL. Silly me! I would not have had to get into a panic mode last night looking for two !?#$%^&* highly specified visa photos for the !?#$%^&* application had I taken the time to admire my passport like I do Emila‘s paintings everyday!
Because of the mistake, Be and I had a good laugh and a good kick in the juboars for each other today, February the 5th, 2010. And because of the mistake, we had a good hot breakfast at The Real McCoy this morning… just the two of us, and got something hotter planned for the Chinese New Year.
It was a good mistake well made, indeed.
Happy Birthday, KaCher! I’m already having a good day. I know you are too!
Glossary for Neil:
juboar = [a cavity] near the hind end in quadrupeds or toward the spine in primates spelled with the letter ‘s’
It is very easy to get inspired by a good read. And good pictures. Especially pictures taken by a purring cat – with a Meow! Factor.
The pictures of beautiful clouds actually reminded me of the conversation between my 7-year-old-going-70 Kitreena and I, just a week ago. We were in the car waiting for Daddy to come down from his office, to go to a stomatologia and then on to Gandara.
Kitreena: Mom, what are clouds made of?
Mommy: Ohhh… water droplets mostly. Why?
Kitreena: Angels can fly and they live in the clouds, right?
*Here we go again! Me Monchy and her angels obsession.*
Mommy: Yes. Why?
Kitreena: Do they get wet then?
Mommy: Mana Mommy tau. Why? You think I’m an angel ka?
Kitreena: Not really.
*Huh? Not really, she says? Ouch! Never realized a ‘not really’ can cut deeper than a clear cut ‘no’. Ah well…*
Mommy: That’s what I thought. I don’t know. Sorry.
Kitreena: But Mom, how come angels don’t fall through the clouds if the clouds are just water droplets?
Mommy: They do. But they have wings. They fly back to the dryer clouds lah.
Kitreena: Oh yeah. I forgot they have wings.
*Mommy’s sense always makes sense.*
Though I play devil’s advocate a lot… I mean, really a lot lot, I always know I live among angels.
Glossary for Neil:
Mana Mommy tau.= I wouldn’t know./How would I know?
Between Sunday and Thursday last week… I hibernated quarantined myself with Edrick. He caught cold and cough from a few unwell kids at school. So no going out in -20°C until his nose stopped running and his Mommy stopped running for Kleenex, Aquamarine Mist and cough syrup.
Edrick had been healthy ever since we came back to Moscow. He was sneezing and crowing a little before Christmas, but after just a dose of Tylanol, a rub of Vicks and a night of steam, he bounced back the very next day higher than Pokrovsky Hills’ highest peak. But this time around, he was badly affected. And my Ventolin/Nebulizer machine has gone AWOL. But that’s another novel to write.
Ni lagi satu saya tak faham. Well, I bet you know what’s coming lah bila saya dah mulakan perenggan dengan ayat, “Ni lagi satu saya tak faham” ni kan? Dah lama tak guna ayat fully-loaded cenggini. Dan yang peliknya kita orang biasa ni, asal tak faham je nak marah. Bila tak faham je nak marah. Inikah fitrah sifat manusia?
Yang tak tercapai di akal saya ialah… sampai hatinya some of these parents menghantar anak yang badannya panas, hidungnya berhingus hijau pergi sekolah. Don’t they sense that the child would rather be in his/her own comfy bed at home nursed by mommy with TLC?
Dan yang saya tak faham ialah, these moms are mostly homemakers sepenuh masa. Kebanyakannya pulak are ‘maided’ with inang pengasuh barang seorang, dua orang, tiga orang, (empat, lima, enam, tujuh dan lapan lagi). Sending unwell kids to school should be declared a crime lah di zaman moden ini. Bila ada H1N1 tau pulak takut.
Saya pun sebenarnya taklah marah sangat sebab I had good 5 days with Edrick. We had a lot of meaningful mother-and-son conversations. And I got thinking today, I’d better make a little compilation of those little chats sebelum saya lupa. These kids are growing so fast. Faster than the rates of my brain cells meninggalkan diriku.
Edrick: Mom, I know kememel les mim burse!
Mommy: Kemam who?
Edrick: Kememel les mim burse.
Mommy: *frowns, squints her eyes and has the who-what-where-when-why-how kind of pelik look on her face*
It was a short but long enough to be an awkward pause.
Edrick: You’re not listening to me!
Mommy: I am! I just don’t understand what you’re saying Monch.
Edrick: It’s ke… me… mel… les… mim… burse! *losing his patience with Mommy*
Mommy: Is it a he or a she?
Edrick: It’s not a he, it’s not a she. Kememel les mim burse is the big cloud that has lotsa rain and lotsa storm, Mom!
Mommy: Ohhhhhh! I see. You mean Cumulus Nimbus, just like in the UP show?
Edrick: Yyyyeeaahhh! You know what I’m talking about now? That’s the kememel les mim burse I’m talking about! *disgruntling his ‘satisfaction’ that Mommy finally got it*
Mommy: Okay, okay! Easy boy. Don’t strike your lightning at me.
Setelah hampir tiga minggu, suhu yang berlegar sekitar 20an darjah Celcius di bawah paras beku akhirnya meningkat ke paras tingkatan satu digit Celcius. Tapi masihlah di bawah paras beku. Memang terasa kurang sejuknya. Malah, hampir saya kepanasan apabila terjaga di tengah malam berbungkus baju tidur bulu kambing biri-biri, gebar dan selimut. (Harus disebut bulu siapakah yang membungkusi diri saya. Bulu mink menjadi pilihan utama masyarakat Rusia, bukan bulu unta atau bulu enta.)
Di waktu sejuk memang terasa seperti hendak masuk saja di celah katil dan tilam. Atau lebih hangat kalau boleh masuk saja ke dalam tilam yang barangkali boleh dihasilkan dengan lubang khas. Tetapi Tanjung Rambutan dan Tampoi tiada kemudahan untuk mengangkat dan mengangkut calon penghuni antarabangsa yang menetap di Moscow. Oleh itu saya lupakan saja hasrat saya untuk mengelakkan dari kebekuan tegar dan ilham-ilham rekabentuk tilam yang menggila.
Secara alami, lumrah iklim alam yang masih saya ingati dipetik dari buku Ilmu Alam Fizikal Tingkatan Lima, apabila suhu meningkat seiring kelembapan udara, hujan akan turun. Sesuai dengan musim dingin di Moscow, salji pun turun lebih banyak dan lebih kasar kepingan saljinya berbanding dalam suhu yang lebih rendah. Contohnya, dalam suhu -25°C salji jarang turun dengan lebat kerana udaranya kering. Salji akan turun lebat dan sebesar-besar cekodok pisang apabila suhu kembali ke sekitar -2°C.
Musim dingin, dari pengalaman peribadi saya, merupakan musim yang menyaksikan banyak adegan tekanan perasaan. Bukan sahaja di kalangan orang yang panas baran yang sudah tentulah baran mereka tidak dapat dipanaskan, malah di kalangan orang yang ‘cool’ juga cepat hilang kesejukan hati mereka. Menurut penemuan kajijiwa, kekurangan sinar mentari di Korea mempunyai kesan negatif terhadap jiwa manusia.
Termasuk lah di kalangan bayi, kanak-kanak dan remaja (kerana mereka juga manusia, sebab itulah mereka disebut bayi, kanak-kanak dan remaja. Jika mereka bukan dari spesis homo sapiens, sudah tentu lah mereka akan disebut ‘anak ayam’ dan bukan ‘bayi ayam’, ‘anak lembu’ dan bukan ‘kanak-kanak lembu’, ‘anak badak’ dan bukan ‘remaja badak’.)
Pakar kajijiwa merumuskan bahawa orang-orang yang tidak mendapat sinar sang suria menjelang di pagi hari, ramai orang di seluruh negeri sedang minum Dutch Lady yang cukup akan cenderung terhadap kemurungan. Manakala mereka yang tetap menjalankan kegiatan di luar rumah meskipun matahari tidak begitu teruja hendak bersinar, dapat mengurangkan risiko tekanan perasaan dan kemurungan pada kadar yang luarbiasa. Luar rumah, luar biasa. Dalam rumah, biasa kena tinggal di luar sana bersama matahari.
Bercakap soal kegiatan dalam dan luar ini, saya mendapati bahawa ada satu kegiatan yang jarang diperkatakan oleh pakar kajisifat manusia. Ianya juga berkait rapat dengan kajian ENT (ear, nose and throat). Tetapi sebelum itu tuan-tuan dan puan-puan, tahukah anda bahawa dalam udara yang bersuhu rendah, gelombang bunyi bergerak dengan lebih lancar? Bunyi dapat didengar dengan lebih jelas di musim sejuk. Oleh itu, mereka yang hendak mengeluarkan bunyi-bunyian yang bersifat Biarlah Rahsia – walaupun di tempat yang lapang di luar rumah – wajarlah berhati-hati dengan kegiatan ‘pengeluaran’ mereka. Demikian kupasan topik E (Ear) secara ringkas.
Sebelum beralih ke topik N (Nose), saya ingin menghuraikan topik T (Throat) dahulu. Di musim dingin, kebanyakan orang tidak minum cukup air kerana suhu yang rendah membuatkan tekak tidak mudah merasa haus. Padahal dalam masa yang sama yang haus adalah tandas-tandas dan mendapat air buangan berlebihan kerana kita membesio (bak kata orang Perak) lebih di musim dingin. Lebih daripada kadar biasa. Tekak juga, percayalah cakap saya, tidak sedikit pun mengidam salji yang putih bersih yang boleh dikepal dan dimasukkan ke dalam mangkuk, disiram air gula berpencelup merah F&N, susu isian sejat sejati Ideal atau Carnation, ditabur kacang merah, krim jagung dalam tin, cendol dan kacang tumbuk. Sedikit pun tidak. Hebat sungguh tekak musim dingin ini tuan-tuan dan puan-puan.
Tekak juga, ya belum habis lagi topik tekak kita ni… jadi jangan ke mana-mana, sering saja berasa agak kesat di musim sejuk begini. Barangkali fenomena ini disebabkan oleh suhu rendah yang telah memendekkan jarak antara tekak dengan perut. Apabila perut berbunyi, tekak akan cuba sedaya upaya untuk mendiamkan diri dengan menyumbat sesuatu ke dalam rongga mulut. Memang terasa sunyi alam sekeliling dek kerana semua tekak sedang disumbat agaknya.
Baiklah, beralih kita ke topik terakhir… iaitu topik N (Nose). Saya masih membuat kajian bagi merungkaikan misteri kenapa kegiatan mengorek sangat berleluasa di musim dingin. Kadar lembapan udara yang rendah secara alami menyebabkan hidung menghasilkan rembesan cecair lebih daripada biasa untuk melindungi lapisan kulit rongga hidung daripada menjadi terlalu kering.
Rembesan tersebut didapati mudah kering akibat proses penyejatan. Rembesan yang kering kemudiannya membentuk lapisan kerak nasi pelbagai ketebalan dan warna. Antara warna kegemaran kerak tersebut ialah hijau buruk, kelabu taik hidung anjing, dan perang kemerahan. Pelbagai corak juga dapat ditemui pada kepingan kerak rembesan itu tadi, terbentuk secara semulajadi seperti batik lukisan tangan berkonsepkan abstrak.
Kegiatan mengorek ini malangnya jarang sekali – atau mungkin tidak pernah langsung – disentuh oleh pakar kajihayat atau anatomi. Malah pakar penggaris etika juga setakat ini tidak pernah mengeluarkan garispanduan tatacara mengorek hidung dengan jelas. Memandangkan kegiatan ini sangat semulajadi, serta sama pentingnya dengan kegiatan mengorek periuk di dapur bila larut malam tarakucha tarakucha cha, saya menyeru kepada golongan bijakpandai serta golongan berhemahtinggi supaya dapat menghasilkan buku teori dan metodologi kegiatan tersebut.
Seruan ini saya buat kerana walaupun kegiatan mengorek hidung terdiri daripada kegiatan ala-ala Biarlah Rahsia, masih ramai yang tidak dapat menyembunyikan kenikmatan mereka apabila menjalankan kegiatan itu. Saya sendiri secara peribadi telah melatih diri sejak muda remaja lagi dengan latihan ketat ala komando supaya menjalankan kegiatan gerak khas ini cuma di kamar mandi. Memang bersemangat bersiram dua kali sehari walaupun dalam cuaca 25°C di bawah paras air laut beku, saya mengaku!
Akan tetapi mereka yang mengorek tanpa segan silu dan tanpa batasan amat menggelikan hidung saya. Tambah geli apabila ada yang tidak dapat mengawal diri daripada menggentel, menguli dan menjentik gulungan kerak rembesan mereka di khalayak ramai ala-ala acara lontar peluru Sukan SEA. Oh tidak!
Malah saya pernah melihat dengan mata kepala serta batang hidung saya sendiri seorang yang bukan bayi, bukan kanak-kanak, bukan remaja, tetapi seorang dewasa yang kelihatan cukup umur dan cukup waras sedang menyental kerak rembesan beliau yang basah-basah lembap, suam-suam kuku dan belum cukup kental ke tempat duduk KTM Komuter antara Rawang dan Seremban! Penyental rembesan tersebut telah dilihat turun di stesen komuter Batang Benar dengan tidak sedikitpun rasa bersalah! Saya berpendapat bahawa kerajaan Malaysia wajar mengisytiharkan darurat atau red-alert terhadap isu pengorekan ini dengan kadar ekspress demi rakyat.
Maka sekali lagi saya mengumumkan, permohonan adalah dipelawa daripada pakar-pakar etika untuk bergabung tenaga bersama pakar kajihayat dan anatomi untuk merumuskan kaedah terbaik lagi terhormat bagi kegiatan mengorek hidung. (Rumusan dan kaedah hendaklah bersesuaian dengan pelbagai iklim, musim, time-zone, sudut altitude, sudut latitude, sudut attitude, budaya dan ideologi pembaca.) Mungkin kegiatan ini juga harus ditukar namanya daripada kegiatan Mengorek Hidung kepada Mengerak Rembesan.
Dengan seruan tersebut, izinkan saya mengundur diri. Masa untuk mandi dan mengalunkan lagu…
Pernahkah kau bermimpi seketika
berada di tempatku membayangkan…
I was laughing so hard this morning when I got KaCher’s message that I had to kick myself to stop laughing. And I kicked myself so hard this morning when I realized how silly it was that I had to laugh about it.
I sent KaCher a note last night with the thought to give her Julia’s phone number before I forgot all about it. Guess what? Before I forgot, I did remember. And in the note to remember to give KaCher Julia’s phone number, I forgot to give KaCher Julia’s phone number!
KaCher sent me a reply which I received this morning to let me know that I indeed forgot to give her Julia’s phone number. Only then that I relized that I, in remembering to give KaCher Julia’s phone number before I forgot, I forgot.
I will remember this for the rest of my life in case I forget.
Before you get the glimpse of what catch I brought home today, I would like you to chant along with me this pirate of the Studio Jalan Ampas’ song. Three, four! Hit it Bang Ramlee!
Hoi hoi ya hoi, hoi hoi ya hoi
hoi hoi ya hoi ya hoi hoi ya hoi ya hoi
Hoi hoi ya hoi, hoi hoi ya hoi
hoi hoi ya hoi ya hoi hoi ya hoi ya hoi
Hoi hoi ya hoi kita semua gembiraaa
hoi hoiiiyyyaaa pulang dapat hartaaa
uwang berrrjuta, intan perrrmata!
Mari kita lekas ke guaaa
bawa harta semuaaa
jangan lah tunggu lama-lamaaa
simpanlah segeraaa
Hoi hoi ya hoi kita semua gembiraaa
hoi hoiiiyyyaaa pulang dapat hartaaa
uwang berrrjuta intan perrrmata
uwang berrrjuta intan perrrmata
uwang berrrjuta intan perrrmata
uwang berrrjuta intan perrrmata
Hoi hoi ya hoi… hoi ya hoi ya hoi ya hoi!
Now feast your eyes, people! Mmmuuuaaaahahahahahahahahahahahahaaa! *ketawa ala lanun adalah disarankan*
Sing along now…
Muahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! *tak abis lagi ketawa lanun nih sangat puashati malah lebih daripada itu*
…down to Gorky Park
listening to the wind of change.
A friend’s Facebook status about Malaysian drivers made me think of how much I have to ramble about driving and drivers now that I have driven in a few countries in this block and the block next to it. So much so that my thoughts on driving have been driving me up the wall, down the drain, in Athens and now driving me out of my mind, yours and Miss Daisy’s!
Yes I drive here in Moskva, despite warnings and all cerita seram (horror stories) I heard from expats – white, brown, colored and color-blind alike. While I may not ever come to the Daily-Gallivanting State of Enjoyment during my stay in Russia, I would do anything to keep my freedom of driving around in my own time. Having a driver is a ‘limited freedom’. And to me, limited freedom is no freedom. (How do I know I can trust my driver to keep his mouth shut about Putin and I and that fishy affair broiling in the oven?)
I have no opinion on expats who do not drive, are too scared to drive or those who have two cars and five drivers (or five cars and two drivers, whichever or whoever tickle their fancy). It’s a mere matter of choice. I, myself, like driving myself with myself by myself when my other self is away or whenever I feel like driving myself. I don’t put myself in a class higher than anybody else just because I have the courage to drive in Russia. After all, like I once said to Katya Sprague, “You can only go as far as your courage.”
The consistently terrorizing stories I hear, nonetheless, are pretty much about how terrifying Russian drivers are. Them and their terrible driving attitudes. And my response to every story I hear would usually be, “Oh yeah? Come visit Malaysia and see how we can drive you.” At this rate, I should really be considered for the highest post at Tourism Malaysia here in Moscow. Not. But of course I never finished my sentence.
People are people, I believe. You don’t drive like Malaysians just because you’re Malaysian. Russians, Italians, Greeks and Kuwaitis don’t drive like Russians, Italians, Greeks and Kuwaitis because they are Russians, Italians, Greeks and Kuwaitis. I use the indicator when I turn, change lanes and when I intent to pull over, regardless of where I drive. One may call it pemanduan berhemah, defensive driving, or considerate driving. But one’s nationality does not determine the way one drives. It is another mere matter of choice.
Yet, regardless of the language barrier, Russians generally communicate better than many Malaysians I have seen. On the road, I don’t have to know Russian to understand when they are turning right or left. They use sign language with me. They signal.
But then, how do I know if the driver of the car in front of me is Russian? For all I know he could be Joe Penny driving along Tverskaya Ulitsa looking for a parking spot nearest to Mi Piace.
Ciao bebe!
The last hot drink you had: Earl Grey with Honey
Thanks to Rozie, for reminding me all the way from Klang, “Sebaik-baiknya di solstis musim sejuk (cikgu Geografi la konon) ini banyak-banyaklah makan madu, supaya badan lebih segar, selain mengurangkan kahak dan selsema.” And I honestly did feel like tea with honey tonight. It at least refreshed my campus memories with dear Rozie.
The last ‘I Love You’ you said to: KaCher, on sms.
If I could make up for the loss of many more I-love-you’s we were supposed to hear from Mom, I would. But I believe that every thought we think and every word we write is an ‘I love you’ tribute to Mom, sis.
Me Monchies, after saying good night.
Kitreena would usually say, “Sleep tight Mom, make sure you go straight to bed.” Yeah right! Who’s going to run the dishwasher? Who’s going to refill all the 3 humidifiers? 🙂 Who’s going to post an entry on Questa è Enida? Who’s going to bermimpi bercanda di pasiran pantei ama Kang Broery? And Edrick would say, “Good night Mommy. Don’t let the bug spread! I love you.” Every night for the past 3 months I have been trying to correct him… bite, not spread. But I think the bug has spread and he won’t recover from his own quote for a long while. Quote unquote.
Your last frustration: Peeling Onions
The skin was unbelievably thin and dryer than the thirstiest nomad crossing Rub’ Al-Khali on kamikaze cum harakiri mode (luper lalu mbawok bochowng air, awok nte). If onion skin can go soft like Nori (sushi wrap) when cooked, I would have gladly stir-fried a full 2 cups of it with my bean curd tonight.
The last flattering thing you heard: Good cooking, Mommy. Deeleeeeeecious!
Edrick would only eat rice if it comes with tofu, or bean curd or fish. Rice porridge to him is only edible if it comes with tokyu (soy sauce), chopped spinach or steamed broccoli. So you can imagine how flattering the word ‘deeleeeeeecious’ is… coming from a not-so-big-of-a-fan of rice.
The last smart idea you came up with: A Krazy LazyCooking Method
Well, well, well… what can I say. My krazy lazy mind-set has truly plagued me these days. So horridly krazy-lazily lazy, that the only thing I am not lazy doing is thinking of ways to be even lazier. And another thing you have to know about me is, I dislike cooking anything that would make me smell like what I just cook. A divorcee friend once disclosed to me about his ex-wife, “She always smelled like bawang goreng (sautéed shallots/garlic). I don’t mind that smell in the kitchen or dining room. But not in my bed.” Yeeessshhh, crazy but true. A woman is supposed to be tasteful, not tasty!
So yesterday, out of desperation to guttle my newly bought salted dried old fish, I came up with this idea: instead of pan-frying or deep-frying the stinky-o-smelly fishies, I oven-broiled them! To avoid from having to scrape the baking pan in case the fish would stick to it, I shaped a piece of baking paper into a ‘bowl’, poured half the amount of oil I usually use into the baking-paper bowl and voila! Into the oil the fishies swam and into the oven they broiled for about 25 minutes at 200°C. No stirring, flipping, flapping, spattering, splattering, and spatula-ing involved the whole 25 minutes.
And the tiptop feat of this krazy lazy methodology was not only that I saved the whole house from the smell, I saved myself from smelling like fried salted dried fish! My husband is not home this week anyway. By the way, ladies and some gentle men… did you ever notice that of all that we wear when cooking, the aroma’s favorite part to stick to and stick on is our bra? So ehem, did you sauté any shallots or garlic today? Ahak ahak ahak ahak! *gelak ada makna, tu yang kening sebelah dok teghangkat tu*
Your last Facebook status:
An Original Quote
I know many people who do not share my principle of ‘keeping it right’ grammatically and grammatolatrily. Well, I worship words, alright. While I don’t speak many languages, those I do speak and write in I make sure I speak and write in relatively properly. And that means no saying that’s mean when I mean to say that means. You know what I mean? Whats make it uncorrect and disproper are ones’ attitude towards improofment itself, usualy…………………… Espfcially if 1’s is rspnsiblty to educates de lang. 2 de yang ones, k???!!!
I believe that the beauty of learning (and using) a language is mastering it so one can ‘manipulate’ it while keeping a high respect for the language itself. Of course it applies to learning anything, really. Cooking, for instance – just like a language – is a skill one first has to master before one can create new recipes. Wiz and Lish – language trainers turned bakers friends of mine – I bet can vouch me on this. (Wiz & Lish, ken lee tulibu dibu douchu, ken? Too loon.)
Nobody says it is easy teaching a language, especially a language that should be spoken the way it is written. Nobody. I still keep catching myself making mistakes with the ‘third-person pronouns’ she and he when I speak in English. Not that I have to give this excuse, I know, 🙂 but in my mother tongue (Bahasa Malaysia) third-person singular pronouns are not gender-specific. She is dia, he is dia. So unsuperciliously, I keep correcting myself. Appreciatively, too, I keep being corrected by people who care and who have genuine passion for correctness. Though I don’t believe that I can achieve perfect bilingualism, I do have faith that bilingual correctitude exists.
Thus, Enida says…
“Those who have no desire to learn from mistakes should not fake their passion for correctness.”
Eh enough already! I really should go straight to bed before the bugs spread.