Posts Tagged ‘Monchies’

Last Last

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 Lazy Cooking 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.


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Read Roses Written Blues


I ended up with my own Roses Are Red poem because I could not quite agree with its ‘Violets are blue’ logic. Violets, to me, are not really that blue. They are reddish blue, perhaps. But not blue blue. Or true blue. Blue and red equally. Purple perfectly. And of course purple is a mix of red and blue. Violets are logically, literally, and therefore should be literature-ly purple. Not blue. I stood to have been corrected by myself, thank you very much. And now I stand to be corrected by anyone who dares to correct me with a better correctness than mine.


This is my blog, lest you forget.


I began changing it by first mental-scanning for a word that rhymes with sweet. It would have been nice to keep some of the poem’s original sense. And then I recalled Kitreena’s artwork today of a hummingbird. She spelled bird as b.r.d.e. Hmmm… oookayyy, let’s tweet the birdie shall we? And then I found this fancy post-it with a bird. Call it karma or sutra, I must have been a bird in my past life. And so I saw the blue skies. Blue violets can be on somebody else’s notes then. Haven’t got the blues for ya, violets!


‘Sugar is sweet.’ Sugar? That is such a processed sweetness. Can’t we have something a little bit more natural here? Like honey! I honestly think it goes better with birds, skies and all. Honey from bees, bees and birds fly, and they like clear blue skies as well. Plus, I don’t wanna be thinking of that sugar refinery in Felda Mukim Chuping or of a packet of Gula Prai when I get to the ‘Sugar is sweet, and so are you’ part in the poem!


Well, as you can see… I went through quite a bit of a thought-process for such a simple note for Kitreena. And oh yes, she is on the second rerun of her spaghetti boxed lunch from home. I made Spaghetti Carbonara but with some fresh chopped tomatoes and pickled artichokes the other day. Mama mia! Tanto gusto. Tutto belissimo. Abiss ito. Massu tido. Mmmuuuaaahhh! Buona notte, mia colibri!



Original version:

Roses are red,
violets are blue.
Sugar is sweet,
and so are you.



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I’ll Be Write Back!


I was going to start writing Kitreena simple notes tonight – notes that I will slip into her lunch box tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and everyday after that. Found these two old old glow-in-the-dark pens and was going to write on the recycled black cover of a color pad. I had already found one of those Roses Are Red poems to be my first notes.


I did say those two glow-in-the-dark pens were very old, didn’t I? I can bet you a dollar to a vareniki that they are actually older than Kitreena. Hmmm… guess what? They don’t work no more. They don’t even glide. Forget about glowing!


I am off to look for my gold and silver marker pens. They are not older than Kitreena. They are older than me!


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To Shadow A Son


“They’re here, Mom! They’re here!”


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Ride On Raya

My kerinting Kitreena.

I was not going to write about Raya anymore today, to be frank. I was pretty content to leave it for another year before I let it get to me again. But it is still in the air. My homesickness is still affecting my moonlady-ness. Or is it the other way around?


I still reward myself with one Batang Buruk each time after doing dishes. Thanks, Tuan Nor! And dinner tonight was the Raya leftovers. Not to mention that all sms updates from family and friends today revolved around who went Raya-ing where. Well, I guess I’ll indulge a tiny wee bit more.


Baju Raya-wise this year is a re-run for all of us, The Johnsons. Yes, I am stating the obvious, rather obviously. I am glad, nonetheless, that Kitreena still thinks of the world about her dress that she herself hand-picked at a place in Bangi last year. She did make a comment about the sleeves getting shorter when she had it on yesterday.


I should just let her wear this Baju Raya whenever she wants from now on, Raya or not Raya, before it shrinks on her. While the long sleeves may never be short sleeves, as  I hope she never grows hands longer than 50 inches, I can almost see the dress becoming the most beautiful Jackfruit Wrap within the next two years. Imagine a purple karong nangka, with beads, labucci and glitters summore!


Kitreena has grown and gone through quite a bit between mid-July and this Raya, you see. Since we got her a T-scooter when we came back from Malaysia, she has been a rider. A good one at it too, I must say. So good that it inspired me to get a T-scooter for myself! Yes, these days I send her to school riding it! I see no other mothers riding anything else but their big fancy cars. I guess that’s why Kitreena’s classmates thought I was a cool Mom! Woo hoo!


And within the last 2 weeks Kitreena has also been riding her bike without the training wheels. This girl is funny when it comes to milestones. She had been riding her bike (training wheels and all) since her 3rd birthday. Yeah, pre-Edrick era! Recently when we saw that she could balance on the T-scooter well, we nudged her into losing the training wheels. She got so scared and was so not willing to try that she totally abandoned her bike!


We then coaxed and cajoled her with a pair of roller-blades. Within just two hours of putting the fresh-from-the-shop pair of RBs, she was already gliding down Pokrovsky Boulevard leaving me green with envy! (I have mine too since 2003, but had been too scared to fall on my big 72kg butt back then. I admit that I am now so motivated by the jealousy towards Kitreena’s ease at picking up the speed and balance, I’ve signed up for ice-skating class! Yes, my butt is almost 15kg lighter now. And yes, I digressed!)


To cut another of Kitreena’s riding stories short… one late afternoon about two weeks ago, Daddy just lost patience with his daughter’s fear. He took the training wheels off of Kitreena’s bike, put her helmet on and just forced her to pedal it! As though she had been practising all these years in secret, Kitreena just rode off! Yeah again, gliding down Pokrovsky Boulevard leaving Daddy with his jaw dropped to the ground and Mommy with her eyes rounder than a rounder’s field!


We should not have been surprised, really! Kitreena had done the very same thing when she started to walk. As a baby, she was extremely cautious and got tremendously easily frustrated when she kept on falling. So cautious that she refused to even try to walk. It took her 2-3 months before she got tired of sitting and crawling. One day, she just picked herself up and started walking!


Keputat kakak kepada Melang!I hope she wouldn’t just pick our car keys tomorrow and start driving around Moscow looking for the Malaysian Embassador’s house. After all, she was very disappointed yesterday for not getting her Raya’s servings of Keputat! Did I tell you she wanted spaghetti with Sambal Tumis Udang for her school lunchbox today?


Aaahhh my Malaysianized Canadian monchie!



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What Goes South

Me Monchies


We had enough of our house-arrest lifestyle for 3 days. All of us! So today, my vote for driving 300km southbound went unchallenged. Me Monchies’ face just lit up, oh brighter than the mid-morning sun! And even after completing the 300++km challenge and even when the Tuesday’s sun was  no longer hanging on the Danga Bay’s horizon… Kitreena and Edrick  were still spinning around jumping up and down like the Ever Ready Heavy Duty batteries that they are. I must have conserved enough energy those 3 days – these kids look like they will not need to be plugged in for another month! Hoy!


Driving 300km south of Kuala Lumpur seemed to be the best idea today because:

  • My brother, Deal, just received his pink bundle of joy!
  • I have not seen, touched, held, cuddled, smother a newborn ever since Edrick!
  • The last time I was in Johor Bharu was at Deal’s wedding over 3 years ago.
  • Kitreena only had an ‘ON’ button for the manual reminder/request: “Mom, I wanna see the baby. Mom, I wanna see the baby. Mom, I wanna see the baby. Mom, I wanna see the baby.” No, no ‘OFF’ button.
  • I like driving south – all my body parts are going in the same direction anyway.

So when the sun woke my son up, and my son woke me up… I assigned myself a Jalan-Jalan Cari Pasal mission. Johor Bharu, here we come!


I wanted it to be an easy-going day. An easy-going day it was, an easy-going day indeed. Well, at least in the beginning.  Armed and equipped with all the munchies & nibblies, we took a leisure shopping and lunch stop at KLCC. Shopped at MotherCare, had lunch at Dome, reloaded Touch-n-Go at Maybank, bought kuehs at La Cucur, plus 3 washroom visits in between. Yes, three! (Boy, these kids were leaking!) By the time we hit the SMART Tunnel, it was quarter to 1600hrs!


With the half tank on my rented City, I knew I could go quite far. So I passed on filling up in KL to beat the rush hour – which was against my long-distant driving policy. But I hushed myself with two words: easy going. It was only 300km.  The first quick stop was right in front of my mak angkat Chan Yoke Lin’s fruit stall Hentian Serdang – to set my GPS pointing me to Mount Austin. The second stop: Nilai Utara – to shift Edrick to the front seat so Kitreena can lay down in the back seat. Total stop time: 6 minutes 22 seconds accumulative. I could feel my easy-going mission ‘going south’ very easily.


I was, nonetheless, making a good time  doing my Autobahn-style speed whenever the GPS went quiet and doing 119km per hour on the stretches that are ‘Police Ambush Area’ and ‘Speed Trap Zone’.  And that was despite Edrick’s frantic attempt to scare me with what he misheard as ‘This Dragon Zone’!  He kept on repeating the GPS’s instructions as though I was going left on all the right turns. Arrghh! I was busy driving and he was busy driving me nuts, bolts and screws!


Our little City on four wheels eventually became quiet when me Monchies dozed off, which gave me some quiet time to reflect on my life. Chewah! Well, I was truly reflecting on my life until…



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