a contented sunday.

yesterday the singaporean 28 year old lawyer was found dead in mumbai's oberoi hotel. i had been following the news and fearing for her life. and hoping desperately and sometimes with certainty that she will come home safe. i am shaken and angry and saddened by the news and worried about the future this holds for all of us. it's true what they always say. that terrorism can strike anytime anywhere.

last night i went to bed thinking about ms loh and her family.

my deepest condolescences to all the victims and to everyone who has lost someone they love in this outrageous terrorist attack.

barley + lemon
dusk + dawn
blue bottles + pink fur
starfuit + carrots
roses + cookies
pillows + music
kindness + kisses
friends + laughter
blessings + gratitude.

It's Monday. Hope your week is full of spice and everything nice.

you've become a slug. that's my husband's observation of me this morning.

it's true I suppose. i just want to stay home everyweekend. he, on the other hand, loves going out for breakfast (and any other meal of the day) while i like staying home with a cup of tea and half-boiled eggs and reading the papers. i suppose when you're out of the house five days a week, you really would like to be a slug when you can. my husband doesn't understand this vegetative state i become during the weekends.

but this morning i decided to humour him. we took a slow walk through the fields and playground and then settled down nicely for a meal. but oh the heat. didn't like it. it's a reminder for hot weathers to come again. we returned home. he, happy that he got to have breakfast with his wife.

his wife got home. and resumed being a slug for the rest of the day. bliss.

have a good weekend.

infuriating.
gentle.
kissable.
huggable.
caveman.
mine.

happy birthday dear.

Still loved and not forgotten.

hello. how is your weekend coming along? i hope you get some time to do things are joyful to you.

i had 3 hours to myself today and it felt wonderful. i decided to take a walk in the park and then hopped on a bus that got me to clark quay. i had my camera with me and i like carrying it around as i tend to pay more attention to everything around me. especially the colours of the buildings at clark quay. i love old buildings. with alot of colour.

i love the city on a weekend. it just is different. on the weekends, people seem to walk at a slower pace. they seem to eat more ice cream. the children are happy and so are their pets. people. slippers. shorts. shirts with trees on them flapping in the wind.

and when the sun starts to set. everything seems quieter and gentler and yet livier. it just seems that way to me. the city becomes swathed in lights. they twinkle. i like that. I like the city on a saturday night.

have a good one too.

hello. i hope you're having a good week.

this is today's weather. and today is my day off.

i had it all planned out. i was going to get my friends their birthday gifts (i like it that everyone seems to be born in the month of november coz it's my birth month too), then take a jog at the park, and then take some pictures of the park, meet a friend for lunch, go to the bookshops, read for free and then come home for a hot meal.

but it rained. and rained. and rained. suddenly i didn't feel like going out anymore. i was annoyed with the sky. at first.

and then the rain stopped. everything was washed clean. the air smelt clean. the weather cool. and then i became more forgiving about the day. curled up with a good book i did. i've decided rainy days aren't always bad. here's to renewals and new beginnings.

It's Wednesday. We're halfway there.

He was 9 years old then. Puchumuthu was his name. I had the priviledge of meeting him when I was a relief teacher for a primary school. I was probably about 19 then. I can still see him. Scruffy clothes, worn out shoes but neatly oiled curly hair, tiny ears that stood out and big curious eyes with really long lashes and a smile. Always with a smile. You can always tell the economic status of the families of these children. His father was a construction worker and his mother a housewife from India. They were probably trying to make ends meet and were on financial assistance with hand-me-downs from kind folks they knew. It was quite clear that Puchumuthu wasn't ahead of his class. In fact, he was at the bottom rung. Only when grades were involved. He couldn't speak much English so I was always concerned that he didn't understand what I taught. He was also sitting in the front of the class and because he's so little and because he was so quiet, you wouldn't have paid any attention to him. I don't think he understood much of everything going on around him. He would just observe quietly what went on in class and if any of the kids bullied him, there would be other kids looking out for him. Sandy, a loud and big girl, also my class monitor then, would try to be his big sister. He had little in his school bag and was always losing things. In fact, someone would have to lend him a pencil every so often as he kept losing them.

I recalled that that year, I had my very first teacher's day celebration. I guess when you stand in front of a class of little people, you're somewhat a celebrity. When I stepped into class that day, the kids came rushing by giving me roses, photo frames, love poems and little porcelain mugs and trinkets. I thanked everyone. In the midst of the racket that was going on, I remembered that at the corner of my eye, Sandy looked like she was struggling with what looked like, opening a jar. When I asked her if I could help, I realized that she had a pencil in her hand. "What are you doing?" "I'm trying to break Puchumuthu's pencil." "But whatever for?" It turned out that Puchumuthu didn't want to feel left out and really wanted to give me something for teacher's day and he knew he couldn't give me one of his textbooks. His pencil (which I had given him the day before) was all he had. He knew he needed the pencil so the best gift to him was to share his pencil with me. He tried to break it but he couldn't so he asked Sandy for help. I reacted with, "Oh no Puchumuthu, it's ok, please keep your pencil." And to this day, I remembered what Sandy had said, "You have to accept his pencil teacher, it's his present to you" as she triumphantly broke the pencil into two. Plain and simple. Wise words and from a 9 year old too. So accept it I did. I don't think Sandy knew the power of her words nor Puchumuthu, the impact of his gesture to me. It was the loveliest present I had ever recieved from anyone. I never saw Puchumuthu since I left the school. The half pencil remained with me for the next 5 years or so until it got lost when I moved house.

To this day, I still think of this little kid, son of a construction worker and housewife, and Sandy the class monitor, each time I see a pencil. I send well wishes to them and hope that they are doing well. It's true. Everything I need to know I learned it in kindergarten.

It's Monday. Here's a pot of flowers to get you through the week.

It's been no fun for the past few days. I'm down with a throat infection but the good news for me is I have no fever. Yay! Yes I need to find a rainbow at the end of this string of sneezes and sore throat and runny nose. The sun is out and I wish I had my health. I don't think my immune system is strong unlike my husband's. You can surround him with sick people and yet he doesn't 'catch' anything. I envy him. I think it's to do with a childhood diet of fish and omega 3. My mom in law is a believer of brown rice only, multi grain bread, vegetables, exercise and what have you to get you in shape. She's pretty amazing. She was extremely overweight for years and decided at age 30 she was going to do something about her health. A day and then a lifetime of jogging and qi gong and watching her diet resulted in the healthy her today. Sheer determination and persistance she has. Me? I look for short cuts. I wonder if a flu jab can really help.