Looks like we are expecting heavy snow this Christmas.

Our living room is impassable.

Momsy, with the help of the pink fairy, has emptied half the cupboard of Christmassy paraphernalia onto the floor and sofas and tables. Everything is a tangled mess. One on top of the other.

It's kinda like: let's empty everything on the floor and see what we have. Then, we'll decide how and what we want to do from there. But in the meantime, we are hungry/ thirsty/ tired/ craving for a pizza etc etc.. so let's take a break.

Only problem is that after the break, it became: let's watch Peter prepare the filling for the mince pies. If we are lucky, we can get to lick the spoon and run our fingers along the insides of the mixing bowl.

That was two days back. Not much has changed since. The living room remained super-untidy. In the meantime, these two persons have conveniently moved on to some form of "idea gathering" mode which entailed visiting malls, taking photos and eating lots of ice-cream.

This evening, my MIL announced that she plans to turn the living room into a WINTER WONDERLAND *gags*. This was promptly seconded by the pink fairy in a frenzied fit of head-nodding. I bet the kids arriving from Melbourne have never seen anything like this before... yeah! heavy snow in tropical Malaysia *laughs*

Honestly, I have no qualms about what or how people intend to decorate the living room for Christmas. My only worry is the clearing up thereafter. 'Coz if last year's Christmas was of any indication, I should only expect things to be fully cleared no earlier than a few days before Chinese New Year .. which, the calender shows, will fall in mid-February for 2010.

Sweet!

Time

In a three days' time, this blog will be three years old.

At last count, I've written a total of 1033 posts - most published; some best left in draft.. forever.

In three weeks' time, the inspiration for this blog - my first reader and fellow gamma hedger - is getting married.

I'm feeling old.

I tot I taw a puddy tat

Last night, my husband announced that he must have those cheezy wedges before he sleeps.

Otherwise, I'll hanker for the whole night, said he. How lame!

As it was past midnight (yes.yes.yes, the long-suffering wife rolls her eyes), he suggested that we take a drive to the nearest 24-hour kay-eff-cee outlet. The Dow was going nowhere - 8pts up, 12 pts down, 3 pts up... boring... so I reluctantly prised myself away from my Texas Hold 'Em game.

There was a 4-car queue at the drive-through. Yes, yes, yes. Looks like we are not the only ones hankering for fast food at this ungodly hour. After tweedling our thumbs for a good 8 mins without having to move the car an inch, the Husband suggested that we drive to the front to park while I go inside to get the food.

"Why me? I'm driving. Why don't you go and order whatever you wish?" (-.-)

"I'm wearing my old t-shirt and sarong" was his reply

"So?" (^.^)

"What if I bump into someone I know?"

Oh! for the love of God!

Fine.

So, in I went. No queue inside. Long queue outside. Apa macam? Thought that the person serving me was alittle too cheeky for his good. Perhaps it's the boring long shift he's on. Or maybe it was 'coz I had a kinda constipated look on my face when I said "Two large cheezy wedges, please". Whatever.

Got home. Walked past the mirror at the landing. Stopped. Reversed. Stared in shock horror. White cotton t-shirt + white cotton boxer shorts belonging to the Husband. Those. were. the. only. two. pieces. of. clothing. on. me.

O.MY.GOD!!!!!!!! *screams*

+++++++++++
Post-edit:
Someone sent me an email last night saying that he/she doesn't get the joke in this post. And can I "explain"?

OK.. let me spell this out for you. White cotton t-shirt + white cotton boxer shorts. Only that. No bra. No undies. Kapish? Now, scream!

I think some people need a licence to breed.

"I think that child's gonna fall", said I.

"But don't turn", I added as an after-thought

Too late. The pink fairy turned anyway and stared at the child not much older than herself.

The little boy was climbing up and down the chair. Seeing the pink fairy, he tried unsuccessfully to squeeze himself through the space under the armrest to get from floor to seat; before running around to the back of the chair and trying to haul himself - head first - onto the other side.

His mommy was laughing loudly over her mobile, completely oblivious to the child's antics. One hand clinching her Coach bag. A big red rock twinkled against her pale chest.

The other woman -- a young girl -- in clothes a size too big for her, sat there with a faraway look. Occasionally, grabbing hold of the boy's hand and saying "Jangan. Jangan".

"Like Kian", my little charge said knowingly. "So naughty", referring to her kindymate.

We couldn't help watching the boy. Me, cringing each time he appeared to have missed his footing. He noticed me. Stopped midway. Gave a shy smile. Turned his back. And sat quietly beside the young woman. Stealing furtive glances ever so often.

I went back to my sandwich and fed the pink fairy her next spoonful of chicken rice.

Crash!

The boy was on the floor. Stunned. Rubbing his head. The young girl sat there, transfixed.

The pink fairy turned. Laughed and gave the boy a thumbs-up.

His mommy glared at us and stood up. Whacked the side of the young girl's head with her handbag; before dragging the little boy away. Her face as red as the red rock twinkling against her pale chest.

Don't want to sound judgemental , but I think some people need a licence to breed.

Sailing close to the wind

Peter asked me this morning if I am happy.

"Why?"

"You've been grinding your teeth all night", he smirked

It is hard to articulate how I feel right now. It's a heady mix of excitement, anxiety, nervousness and perhaps, a dash of foolish bravado thrown in.

Part of me says that I am capable of taking over the biz which my FIL has built. That I can do it. That I should do it. That I will make things work and make them sing my way.

But the other part of me -- the doubting Thomas -- asks what if I am outmanoeuvred by the old hands on board -- the Partners. Outflanked by status quo. Outplayed by experience. What if I am taking on something that is so much bigger than me that it overwhelms me and destroys me in the process?

"Remember the times when your back was against the wall? When you were sailing too close to the wind? What did you do?", my husband asked softly. Hugging me tight.

I squinted my eyes in dawn's light and thought hard.

You focused and drilled right down to the core of the problem, he said.

And was such a pain till everyone went from a "No" to a "Maybe" to a "Yes", I laughed.

Is that a noty grin or what?

The Husband is away this weekend. *heh heh heh*

The FIL is away this weekend. *heh heh heh*

The MIL is also away this weekend *heh heh heh*

I haven't been home alone like this in a long, long time *heh heh heh*.

Can you imagine what's on my mind now? *heh heh heh*

Little Miss Masseuse

I got home this evening and slumped on the daybed. I heard the pink fairy running out of the kitchen. So I pretended to sleep.

Makan time, she hissed into my ear.

But I was too tired to care. So I laid there. Very still. Bad mistake! She put her *eeeuuoowww* sticky hand on my forehead and whispered "Where pain?"

Suspecting that she had a bun or sweet corn in her hand, I groaned and said "Don't disturb me. I'm tired" and rolled over to sleep on my stomach.

"I give you shech, k?" said the little voice.

me: -----------

Then, I felt two small feet stepping clumsily on my back.

oh.. massage.. *laughs*

Treading through the paradox of choice.

Too many things have been happening over the past one week. And it couldn't have come at a worst time. *sigh*

Workwise, some major boo-boo is making me so sleep-deprived. This has led my soon-to-be-ex employer to make a counter-offer: Would I like to take a sabbatical instead of resigning?

Then, there is the Godfadar -- my sifu from Christmasses past. The man who spotted my potential and gave me my first break when I was that wet-behind-the-ear greenhorn.

News of my resignation has reached his ears. He has made me an irresistible offer.

My FIL is watching me. He is trying hard not to show that he's anxious. But I could sense that he is preparing himself for disappointment. *sighs*

If left to my head, I know which way the dice will lie.

The problem is my heart.

Damn! damn! damn!

I'm starting to feel so sick in the stomach.

Whose? What? Which?

I have been having trouble sleeping of late. There are so many things that swirl and twirl in my restless mind. For someone who is always so cock-sure of herself, I am starting to question if I have been too hasty in making the decision to leave a lucrative career to join the family biz.

After skyping my Dad for over an hour -- with me rambling on and on in circles for most time, I decided to iron some shirts.

Somehow, I find ironing therapeutic. Perhaps it's the repetitive rhythm of the iron gliding on cotton. Or is it the sharp freshness of sunshine as the steam hits the folds of the shirt. Alas! the laundry basket was empty. Thanks to super-efficient Rita, there was not even a stray t-shirt to iron. *sigh*

So I decided to bake bread. Kneading dough and then letting it rise, before punching it down and kneading it again, makes me strangely happy -- as though my worries are being folded and kneaded and punched away in that huge lump of heavy dough.

Halfway through punching down -- oops! alittle too hard -- and humming an endless loop of a tune, I realised that Dadsy, my father-in-law, was standing by the doorway, watching me.

"Not sleeping?" he asked. Concerned.

I laughed nervously. Like some schoolgirl caught with a condom in her schoolbag *smirks*

I was half-expecting a lecture or an interrogation. Whatever. Thankfully, he went to the fridge, stooped to the lowest compartment and brought out a small container.

"Hah! yet another container of contraband food", I chuckled, remembering the previous incident of braised pig ears.

"Here, try this. It's chicken" he said, lifting a piece of deep-fried chicken into my mouth.

Once past the crunchy deep-fried skin, my teeth sank into the juicest and most tender piece of chicken I'd ever tasted. Yums!

And so it was..

Him sitting opposite me as I rolled the dough. Feeding both of us with these small crunchy pieces of deep-fried chicken fillet. One for him, one for me.. until we reached the last piece which he insisted on tearing into half and sharing.

"That was delicious", said I with a very appreciative glee.

"Glad you like it. Not many people can appreciate Bishop's Nose", he said.

*eeeoooouuuuuwwww*

I know I am not that important but...

The Big Big Boss is in town.

Thanks to a certain stunt I pulled two days back. Tired of rationalizing with me and short of taking the begging route, he has resorted to play the guilt card.

I know emotional blackmail when I see one.

From Mother's "Never mind if you are too busy to play Scrabbles with me, dear. I am but an old lady with too much time on her hands. You go your merry ways". Big sigh. Repeat.

to

The pink fairy's "No one sayang me. No one friend me. No one love me". Pout. Repeat.

to

The Husband's "I understand if you can't make it. Your work is more important than mine." Disappointed look. Repeat.

I am such a sucker for these kind of emo self-flagellation that it gives me multiple orgasms just thinking about it.

So bring it on, babe ..... oooooooOOOOOOhhhhhhhhHHH!!!

Pimp my workout

I am getting sick of the workout music on my iPod. I need a change. Just to give you a glimpse of what I currently work out to, here are some of the songs in it - very BFM-ish *winks* :

+++
Warm-Up:
Boys of Summer - Don Henley
Baker's Street - Gerry Rafferty
Friday, I'm in Love - The Cure

Work-Out:
Imitation of LIfe - R.E.M
Man on the Moon - R.E.M
You're Unbelieveable - EMF
Sultan of Swing - Dire Straits
Under Pressure - Queen feat. David Bowie
Pinch Me - Barenaked Ladies
I'm still standing - Elton John
Tainted Love - Marilyn Manson
Little Red Corvette - Prince
We didn't start the Fire - Billy Joel
Two out of three ain't bad - Meat Loaf
With or Without You - U2
Runaway Train - Soul Asylum
Living on a Prayer - Bon Jovi
The Weather with you - Crowded House
Better in time - Leona Lewis

Cooling down:
If I were a boy - Beyonce
I don't wanna miss a thing - Aerosmith
In the Air tonight - Phil Collins

+++

I would love to hear what you work out to.

My little boy

I had a dream last night.

It was my little boy, chasing after a runaway balloon across the field. And me, running and shouting after him to stop. The louder I shouted, the faster he ran. Just as he was within my reach, he disappeared.

I woke up, shaken.

As I sat in bed, hugging my knees, I tried very hard to remember the face of my child. But I couldn't. His face was distorted by images of beautiful, smiling, guggling babies. Is this what it means when someone says: Time heals? That it erases the bad memories and replaces it with something good. Something beautiful. Something that is so far removed from reality that it is wrong?

Then, I called my ex-husband.

It must have been late evening in London.

I needed someone to talk to. Someone who would understand. Someone who had felt the deep sharp cut in his heart, too. Someone whose world collapsed -- just like mine -- that fateful day.

"I dreamt of our child", I said.

Silence.

"Are you there?" I asked.

"Yes" he said, quietly.

"He was running after a balloon", I said, sobbing. "And before I could grab hold of him, he disappeared."

"It's alright" he said calmly.

"No, it's not alright, Lee. I can't even remember his face anymore". I was screaming down the phone. Hysterical. Panic rising... much like that day, 10 years ago, when my gynae looked at us and calmly told us that our baby, our firstborn, was stillborn.

How to be annoying - 101

Mid-morning, The Husband called:

"Did my father call you?" he wanted to know

"No. Why?" Me, curious

"Why what?"

"Why is he calling me?" Me, irritated.

"Dunno. Just asking"

"But didn't you just say that he was going to call me?"

"Nope. I just asked if my father called you"

"Ok. Fine. I'll call him then"

"No, don't call"

"Why?"

"Then, he'll know that you and I have been talking about him"

*Can someone please shoot me? Now!*

----

An hour later, The Husband called again.

"Did you speak to my father?" Peter asked

"Yup" *smirks*

"And?"

"And what?" *giggles*

"What was it about?"

"Nothing" *grins*

"Can't be nothing" *annoyed grunt*

"If I tell you that he'll know that you and I have been talking about him" *evil smile*

*Oh dear! I think I am so not going to get any sex this weekend*

Me, Henry. You, Tarzan?

Working in the HK office is distracting.

There's this.. this.. neanderthal .. who sits opposite me.. with his heart-stopping Aussie looks, rippling biceps, that heavily accented drawl, the perfect white teeth, those bushy blonde eyebrows... Oh gawd! Bite me. *growl*

Then, there's the colleagues. Tough women who work hard, live fast, party hard.

Last night, I agreed to join them for a girls' night-out at Lan Kwai Fong. Only to find out later, that we were going in drags. Yup! we were going to dress up as men and check out this new gay bar... all. in. the. name. of. research, ok...in aid of a friend's sister's friend who is researching for her short-story. *grins*

To wit, I wore this tight tube top under a t-shirt to hide my breasts (not a difficult task), a loose flannel shirt over the t-shirt, baggy jeans and a cowboy hat. I must say, I kinda look like a pretty boy. More like a butch, my friends teased. *laughs*

But the attention to detail which my colleagues displayed -- from the meticulously glued facial hair, to the swagger, and the scratching-the-balls routine -- somehow gave me that feeling that they have done this before. *wide-eyed*

So off we went; with me getting worried by the minute -- what if someone tries to chat me up? what if they find out? what if....? what if...?

And I kept repeating the name I am to go by -- HENRY -- just in case, someone asked.

The bar was full of gorgeous men when we got there. I thought I'd died and gone to GQ Heaven. The best way to avoid attention (and hence, the need to make conversation, I was told) was to hit the dance floor. So we danced. Me, trying very hard not to make any eye-contact or stare at all the "beefsteaks" around me.. old habits die hard. *smirks*

Just then, the music slowed from Akon to James Taylor -- arrgghh! And I felt someone brushed my shoulder and was asked, in that very familiar heavy accented Aussie drawl, if he can have the pleasure of the next dance............ *gulps*

This ain't rock n' roll

I am gently rocking on a roll. Literally.

Last night, Peter and I were playing let's- see- who- can- fart- the- loudest over the phone. As I was about to let a big one ripped, I realised that it may come with a little "present" attached. *eeeeuuuoooowww*

Was tottering gingerly to the toilet when a call came through with The Big Boss on the line, so I kinda nudge the desire to crap with my "down there" muscles -- a move which I instantly regretted 'coz I felt a sharp pain.

Haemorrhoids, my personal doctor (a.k.a Lee my ex-husband) said, when I described the discomfort later.

It'll go away in a day or two, he continued, as he got me to check for the tell-tale signs -- you. really. do. not. want. me. to. go. to. the. details. here, trust me! *smirks*

So for the whole of last night, I had this feeling as tho' there was something stuck up my arse. And when it continued this morn, I called my ex-husband again and asked him what I should do. Sit on something like a tyre, he suggested.

The pharmacy near the hotel didn't have one of those tyres, but the very nice girl there suggested that perhaps a travel neck roll -- the one that travellers used to put around their necks so that they can sleep in their seats -- would do the trick.

Yeah! great idea..

..which kinda explains why I am rocking on a roll at this moment. *chuckles*