Saturday Project

Saturday was rainy. It stopped and started and stopped and started. That's how it went the whole day. So we spent the day indoors and I decided to finally start on that pair of pants I'd wanted to make her.

She likes making creative use of her clothes: the original pair of funky pants I got off Etsy. See how snug it fits?

The pair that I made her with the original pair on top of it for good measure. You can see how lose the band is around her head.

It took me about half the day. And...it turned out to be about 2-3 sizes too big. The sizing was deliberate; based on the original pair, I'd marked the seams larger on the new pattern. What I didn't realise was just how big it turned out. It's so big that we could probably keep it for a year and she could still fit in it after that one year.

Yikes.

I never was much of a stickler for measurements.

I guess it's back to totes, pouches and storage after this.

Enterprising Pixel

Pixel's plagued. Since sis and I started putting objects on his back, and now that we know that he can stay still long enough most days so that said objects don't fall off, he's getting harassed on an almost daily basis.

Latest in the line up is hubby's miniatures. I think the Enterprise looks pretty well-balanced on his back, even though he looks like he may be tempted to swat it right off.

Chill, Pixel.

Her Mother's Daughter

The small fry is into channeling me these days. It never ceases to amaze me how much she sounds like me. All the inflections of my speech, she picks up. The ah's, la's, hah's...I say a word or phrase once and she picks it up, sometimes without me even realising it.

In hearing her talk, I realise what I sound like. I've discovered I have a collection of choice phrases: be careful; wait ah...; ah see, I told you, right!; what's going on?; are you ok...?; hah, what happened?; so funny la, you; oh, it's ok....; aiya!; what else?; can or not?  It almost feels like it borders on narcissism (on my part, not hers), her imitations of me but the accuracy of her speech and actions, as a mirror to mine,  bowl me over in their hilarity and their sincerity of intent.

She really wants to sound like me, act like me and be like me. She really is a mini-me.

Her attempts at being me are tempered by her innate character: she is more reserved like her dad. She is only active and a chatterbox amongst friends and family. She is shy around strangers, sometimes painfully. She is more apt to be bullied than be the bully, although I'm not so sure that is such a good thing. The only one she bosses around and bullies is Pixel (maybe her parents too but then again, parents are exempt). I can't teach her how to stand up for herself...yet. Before I can tell her to stand her ground, she's already given the toy/book/object to the other child who wants it from her. And I haven't seen her fight back. Yet.

When the time comes, I hope she channels a little more of me other than the way I speak. Not because I want her to be me but because independence and assertiveness (sometimes aggressiveness) can stand one in good stead and propel a gal a long way.

Sir Valiant

Pixel the Valiant bearing up with stoic patience as his humans decide to use him as a display of sorts for RPG figurines.

He's not happy but he doesn't full out object to being used as a shelf.

In truth, he looks more like a fat-bellied vase than a shelf.

Abundant Patience

Here he is: the well of abundant patience.

And a morass of flesh and fat.

I'm not sure if it's the fat that insulates him and allows him to take whatever it is that the small fry has to give or if he's just ... dense.

I'd shoot for dense. In every sense of the word.

It Happened Early One Morning

We woke one morning to the sound of rain outside the windows. Because we sleep with the windows open, we can normally hear when there're showers.

After the hubby had closed the windows a bit to save the floor from the rain, we fell back to slumber.

Not a minute later, we heard a surprised "Oh, what's going on?! What's happening?!" coming from the small fry's corner of the room.

Next, we heard a scrambling and then a thud on the bottom half of the floor-to-ceiling window and "It's raining! It's raining, Mummy!" She'd run to the window and had her hands pressed against the window and was peering out with an excited glint in her eyes.

She then ran out of the room proclaiming excitedly, "It's raining, Jona! It's raining!"

And a very good morning to you too.

Trying To Hold A Pose

So here she is, hair a mess, shirt tumbling and legs akimbo. It just so happens that she is dressed in various shades of pink. The socks are mine, everything else is hers, including the impish look.

She's been pulling out the handstand for me every time I whip out the camera now.

This was the first shot off the 50mm. Still the best of the lot.

Things We Can Put On Pixel's Head And Back

On my sis' last day here in S'pore, we spent an amusing afternoon balancing a variety of the small fry's toys on Pixel's back and head and taking photos of them.

Sis took the pix and she assured me that she'll post them up when she's free.

So here's a list of the things we balanced on the fat cat's back:

1. A variety of balls
2. Small fry's wooden teapot and a teacup on saucer
3. Wooden toy salt and pepper shakers
4. A wooden cheese sandwich
5. A platter with egg, sandwich and bun on it
6. Various plastic shapes on his head
7. A book

In all our attempts, the boy was more than obliging to keep still. Right up until the salt and pepper shakers at the end; they rattled and he wanted to swat at them. And then I told sis that maybe I should do a photo a day with different objects balanced on the boy's back or head.

Now there's a thought.

Wish List

I just chased the small fry around and tried to get her to do multiple headstands just so I could get a good shot of her trying to stand on her head with her top tumbling down over her chest.

It took me four shots and various settings to realise that the 18-200mm lens wasn't gonna cut it, even with the flash. I'd had it on for my trip to Dubai and hadn't switched it out yet. While trying to placate the little show-off, I hurriedly switched to my 50mm.

That's when I realised how much I missed the wide apertures on the 50mm. It was well worth the placating, the fending off (small fry LOVES to get a close up on what I'm doing and more importantly, wants to try her hand at it) and the fiddling.

First shot off the 50mm was a stunner and a keeper.

Hopefully it'll be posted up soon.

Now I can think of a few lenses I'd like to get my hands on for Christmas, sigh.

It's Raining Indoors

She likes umbrellas. And opening them indoors. Walks around with it in the apartment and tries to shelter me from indoor rain. Final stop: the couch to watch Sesame St.

Making Something Out Of Something

I've always been a sucker for making things with my hands. I'm not too good at creating things from abstract ideas or coming up with my own designs but give me a pattern or something to follow and I'll be more than happy to reproduce it.

I've gone through almost the whole gamut of crafting when I was young: cross-stitching, crocheting, knitting, embroidery, felt stuffed animals, beading, those knitted animals/dogs you comb out the yarn to make furry (no idea what it's called). I would have done tatting if I'd known where to get the equipment.

I also loved helping my aunt bake and make cakes, paus, bread, and even pastry. Her sturdy Kenwood mixer was my favourite equipment to operate. I loved that industrial strength mixer.

In secondary school, I opted to do Home Economics rather than boring old Commerce. And boy, did that turn out to be the right choice! My most memorable experiences and happiest memories of school can be distilled from those three years of Home Ec. and the havoc I caused in cooking class (mistaken ingredients, tiny teacups, sporting teachers and great friends) and the quiet times during sewing class.

My 'crafting' genes may have skipped my mom and gone straight on to me as most of my aunts on both my parents' sides have some sort of love for sewing or baking or some form of handicrafting. My mom has no love for it. She can operate a sewing machine (she made me my favourite pyjama pants all the way till I was in college) and make great home-cooked meals but she's not one to 'craft'.

These days, with more time on my hands (??? well, discounting the 'jobs' that I have) I find I'm rediscovering my affinity for making things. Especially now when ingredients and equipment are so readily available as compared to when I was a kid.

It all started with the cooking. And the recipe books. Granted, I don't do gourmet nor gourmand. But I do like to try out a new thing more often than not.

Then I discovered Etsy. I mean, REALLY discovered Etsy. It got to the point that I would trawl through the site everyday just to look at all the pretty things on sale. And then I started buying them. Not much, but a vintage skirt here (and I absolutely LOVE my Etsy vintage denim skirt), a bracelet there, some groovy upcycled clothes for the small fry.

It was her upcycled pants that got me to thinking I could sew for myself too. And then I got the sewing machine. It spent a few months in the cupboard before I took it out and put it to use. First, I had to finish the cat that I was crocheting. And then there were other things I wanted to crochet.

I started borrowing crochet and sewing books from the library. Then I started ordering them from Amazon. Finally I started buying fabric. And dug up some scrap fabric I'd bought from a quilting shop. And then...

Tissue pouches

Tiny totes for tiny tots

My phone pouch with both my phones in it.

Doesn't it look lovely red?

Small fry doing groceries with the tiny tote.

A little bit closer on the tiny tote.

...it's still early days yet. I've got a stack of fabric that I've collected that I have yet to work on.

I don't have a top-of-the-line sewing machine. It's a pretty basic portable Janome with less than 20 different stitch patterns. I just want to sew, I don't want to craft on the machine. I don't even own an electric mixer even though I have thought I'd love to own a Kenwood. I just can't seem to justify forking over an arm and a leg for something I may not make full use of.

I'm planning and organizing patterns in always with a mental footnote to myself: finish whatever you're working on before you start something else. I have a tendency to start many projects but sputter out of steam halfway through and abandon them to their unfinished fates.

So this time, I'm trying to pace myself. I'm taking breaks in between 'projects'. I'm trying not to stock up on too much supplies. I'm trying to juggle all my 'hobbies' (reading, sewing, baking/cooking, photographing) with work commitments, yoga and time for myself and my family.

In the meantime, I've already slightly burned my second batch of banana-chocolate chip muffins. Nigella must not have her times right; 25 minutes at 190C doesn't seem to do it for my babies. At least I halved her recipe and burnt only 4 muffins and not a dozen.

Luckily I'm not one to be daunted. Burnt muffins are but bumps on the road to better, tastier muffins. A slightly sewed over tote handle is just a hiccup to a kick-ass funky messenger bag.

I have greatness in my hands and it shall be utilized!

Daddy's 34th

Daddy turned a year older last month and in the ensuing flurry of activity, I forgot to post this up. We even forgot about the cake that a visiting friend - Adeline - bought on the night of the big day. Thus, the cake was paraded out the night AFTER the big day.

Of course, I also forgot about my own mother's birthday a couple of days later until she called me up to berate me about not wishing her on the day itself.

Yikes.

Sophia Shoots

In her efforts to emulate mummy, the small fry has taken to wanting to handle a camera. Yesterday she wrestled my Polaroid 680SLR out of my hands, refused to let me teach her how to use it and snapped two shots of herself. At least she pointed the camera at herself and not some random spot in space.

Today, daddy let her use the Lumix to shoot till her heart's content. She went around the apartment with camera in arms and strap hung around her neck, taking snapshots of the rooms and her beloved toys, random objects and of course, Pixel.

Her snapshots will be posted on saku taku no ki.

Enjoy!

Siblings

If my sis and I weren't blood-related, I don't think we'd even be friends. We are THAT different.

I don't get how she can be so anal at times and she can't stand my guts. I'm not the most sensitive person in the world and she's got skin as thin as an onion skin. I'm loud and garrulous and she shoots me the evil eye when I get carried away. She's black-and-white; I'm all shades of grey. She's meticulous; I'm, well, I'm... .

Some time back, I elicited her anger when I inadvertently blurted a remark during dinner. I didn't know I'd caused offence till I realised I was getting the cold shoulder and there was a mighty frost coming my way not even halfway through dinner.

Last night sis texted me; she apologised for snapping at me over the phone. She'd had a long day and was tired, so she'd barked. Huh? I didn't even realise she'd snapped at me. Actually, she barks quite a lot, so maybe I'd just gotten used to it.

Bloody connections aside, we'd probably not give each other the time of day. And for all our differences, I do know that she's got my back. Of course, I've got hers. Oh, and we both love to read.

So, thank goodness for blood.

And thank goodness for sisters.

Why I Think My Cat Is A Dog

Sophia and Pixel. She only does this to/with him. She isn't this way with other cats. Thank gawd for that coz her behaviour borders on (probably is) cat abuse.

She's incorrigible. He doesn't know what to do with himself and with her. I don't know what to do with him allowing her to do what she does to him.

I don't think he's a cat. I think he's a closet dog.

In The Morning

Houston, we have lift off!

Bed's dry. Small fry's dry. Everyone's happy.

Dry

We've had two nights of dry diapers. Wow. Another milestone.

So today we decided, or rather, I decided to try the small fry out without diapers for bedtime. Of course, I actually asked her first if she'd rather go to bed with diapers and just as I suspected, the answer was a negative.

So I lined her bed with a large sheet of plastic (just a precaution, it's early days yet) and placed her thin cat mattress on top of her spring one and we're ready to go. She was excited just hearing the scrunch of the plastic as she moved around in bed.

We'll whether everything remains dry in the morning.

Fingers crossed.

Where Are Mine?

Putting Sophie to bed is something that fills me with equal parts enthusiasm and equal parts dread. I love reading to her. I do not like lying in bed with her. I am required to lie in her bed with her, all scrunched up in her shorter-than-normal bed while other adults, daddy included, get away with just a regular reading.

Worse still if I end up falling asleep scrunched up on that bed, right hand behind my head, curled up in a fetal position. Nothing sends me into a funk more than waking up blur and groggy after an evening nap that wasn't scheduled.

So there I was, all curled up and trying to get the small fry to quiet down and get to sleep already, and she's having none of it. She's tracing the lines of my face and pointing out my features: eyes, nose, eyebrows.

Then she gingerly touches her face in search of her eyebrows. Her hand misses them by a mile and ends up on her forehead. She paws her forehead in search of the elusive brows.

"Oh dear. I've got no eyebrows," exclaims the small fry.

It takes me a gargantuan effort not to guffaw.

"No, baby, of course you have eyebrows. Here, mommy will show you where they are. Give me your hand."

And I spend the next five minutes or so retracing her eyebrows with her hand just to reassure her that yes, she wasn't born bald. No, my Chinese gene wasn't so cruel as to render her without eyebrows, just flat-nosed.

Noah's Ark

Her bed.

That resembles Noah's Ark, minus the animals in pairs. The wall is filled over with decals of animals - mother and child.

Her bed has a menagerie of critters: dog/panda and crocodile bolsters that also serve as barriers; a porcupine, an armadilla and a tiger puppets; four different sizes of Totoros; her Mickey and Pooh pillows; magnetic dog, giraffe and cat (the latter of which is her personal version of Miyazaki's neko-basu); Miffy the rabbit; Senget the cat; baby bolster and pillow.

That's not including the other collection of stuffed toys that can't fit onto her bed and are sitting in one of her toy boxes.

The rascal has too many toys.

The Things That We Do With/To Totoro

We try to feed Totoro while he's on the stove and his blue buddy watches from the side, on his side.

We try to scoop some water from the tap while Totoro is in the sink. Not sure if we want to wash him or not. Note his blue buddy cooking in the pot on the stove.

And we try to feed Big Totoro something while he's in the sink.

Poor thing! Being slow-boiled must not be much fun. Even the carrots and other food don't want to join him in the pot.

A New Love

I love the library. And I like taking the bus there; after all, it's a short two stops away and the bus stop is right outside of our apartment.

I may have passed on this love to the little one when I first took her on the bus (her first bus ride!) to the library a couple of weeks back. She loves the novelty of being in a moving vehicle, having the opportunity to swipe my EZ Link card on the bus and looking out the windows and exclaiming at the trees and everything that passes by outside.

And she loves the library too. Specifically, at this point in time, she loves Ian Falconer's Olivia. We have a couple of Olivia books at home in KL but we don't make it a point to bring books from KL to Singapore and vice versa. So I thought it'd be a good idea to pick out some Olivia books for her since she likes them and she doesn't get to read them if she's not in KL.

We left the library with 3 copies of the exuberant little piggy that day. Of course, after we had our reading session at the library. I read all three copies to her while she excitedly exclaimed over some of the details in the books. Loudly. If there were a hearing-impaired person at the children's section that day, he would have had no problems hearing the little one.

I also assume that there is a no eating/drinking policy at the library (dunno if that's really true or not) so of all the things I had to teach the little one that day, I taught her how to sneak snacks into her mouth as discreetly as possible.

"Leave your snack cup in the Mickey bag, babe. Just take out your snacks one by one and pop it into your mouth."

It was either that or deal with a temper tantrum.

So that went well.

And we've been heading to the library, on average, once a week since then. With the exception of the library being closed for a function that one morning Sasha was here, we've enjoyed our trips to the library immensely.

She makes daily references to going to the library, reminding herself and anyone else who is willing to hear, about going to the library, taking the bus there, and how it was closed, or how we borrowed the Olivia books from the library.

This is one love I wouldn't mind cultivating in the little one. I just have to be ready to explain to her about the libraries (or lack of) at home in Malaysia when we're back there one day. Better yet, I'll just let her visit one herself.

Don't You Touch My Totoro!

Don't you dare, Pixel! You already maul my tiny little Totoro to bits on a daily basis. Paws off my Big Totoro!

Yes, the fat boy seems to have a fascination for the teeny tiny little Totoro (not pictured). No matter where it is, he finds it and treats it like a ball of yarn. Whether it's on our bed, her bed, on the table or lying around somewhere within his sight and reach, he will take it and give it a toss and a swat around the house. When we can't find it, his is the first name we call out. And then we cross our fingers and hope the little Totoro is still intact.

So far, so good.

Messy Hair

Even though I try my best, I can't seem to get her hair just right. Maybe it has something to do with cutting it in the bath. There are too many distractions: water, suds, bath toys, falling clumps of hair....

Luckily for me, she still looks adorable anyways.

Senget, Totoro, Sophia and Me

This is what happens when Sophia gets hold of a pen and before I can get it and the Polaroid away from her on time. The scribbles, not the grimace.

Going in for the kiss.

Senget's trying to escape. It's futile; Sophie's got a death grip on him. And yes, that's how she smiles for the camera; she's not trying to escape.

Note: see how sunken the couch is (it's not because of my weight)? Some thing don't improve with age, and that couch is one of it. I hate that couch. I. HATE. IT.

Something Else To Do

As if trying to perfect the photography isn't good enough. Now I've also gotten myself into a crocheting spin. Already done one amigurumi cat. He's pretty lopsided. I've a good mind to call him Senget. He's red and beige. He now resides on Sophia's bed.

I now have two boxfuls of yarn; one contains the yarn I brought back with me from KL (previous projects which went undone) and one which contains new yarn I bought here. Fingers crossed that at least 80% will be used.

I also checked out a load of books from the library on crochet. The goal is to find projects from those books, make copies and keep them in my library. Crochet books don't come cheap. This is the way to go.

My sewing machine is still sitting in the closet. To remedy that, I went out and bought several swatches of fabric with Sophie's pants in mind. I spent the weekend looking for pants for her (having discovered in the morning that almost all her pants are either too short or too tight) but found only a few that I deemed light enough, nice enough or inexpensive enough. So instead of scouting around, I'm gonna try making her a couple of pairs based on a pair of funky ones I purchased off Etsy.

So many projects. Let's hope I succeed unscathed.

Let's not get ambitious; let's just hope I start...and finish. Especially the pants.

Disputes

"Hi, babe. Were you reading your books?"

"No, mummy. Only looking."

"Oh, really?"

"Sophie's looking at the books, mummy. Not reading."

Loosening The Apron Strings

We went diaperless on our trip to Ikea Tampines today.

We took the train, then waited 30 minutes too long for the shuttle bus to get there. No matter, she thoroughly enjoyed the trip.

And then went bonkers at Ikea, sampling the bounciness of most of the couches, running around barefoot in the children's section, also testing out the firmness of the beds, played hide-and-seek with Jona, tortured us through lunch by eating only fries, and basically enjoyed herself silly that morning.

And had no accidents whatsoever from the moment we stepped out of the house till we got home.

Wow.

Baby girl's growing up.

Artist Or Rapist?

If you don't already know, Roman Polanski was arrested by the Swiss auhorities recently. The crime? The film director drugged and anally raped a 13-year old girl in 1977. The original charge of rape was reduced to sex with a minor. The director then fled the US to avoid sentencing. He has lived abroad in Europe till his arrest recently. The director's 'friends', among the likes of whom are Salman Rushdie, Woody Allen, Milan Kundera, and Isabelle Adjani, are rallying beside him.

Wait a minute. What is the matter with these people? Talents aside, what happened to their decent moral values. Oh hang on. They're stars. They DON'T HAVE moral values. According to Whoopi Goldberg, it wasn't 'Rape-rape'. So Whoopi, what exactly constitutes rape-rape?

A rape is a rape is a rape. The bottom line is, the man committed a heinous, despicable, indefensible act. Enforced upon a young child. Imagine that child to be your daughter/sister/cousin/niece/friend/neighbour or just someone you know. I have a daughter. I cannot imagine her being violated in even the most benign way; the thought of it just sickens me.

For those who feel that Polanski has learned his lesson and suffered enough, take a look at an excerpt of an interview he did with novelist Martin Amis in 1979:

“If I had killed somebody, it wouldn’t have had so much appeal to the press, you see? But… f—ing, you see, and the young girls. Judges want to f— young girls. Juries want to f— young girls. Everyone wants to f— young girls!”

Now people, is that the mind of someone who is sorry for what he's done? Or do you even think that was the first or last young girl that he violated or raped?

Rapists deserve to be judged, treated and sentenced for the crime they have committed. A fugitive child rapist - because essentially that is what this supposed brilliant director is - deserves no less. Just because you make films that people adore doesn't give you a ticket out. It doesn't give you a different set of rules to operate by.

I hope they get him, and that they get him real good.

White Choc Chip Cranberry Oatmeal Cookies

The recipe needs some tweaking. I cut down a little bit of the sugar but apparently that wasn't enough. The cookies are still damn sweet. So sweet that I felt immediately full when I caught the first whiffs of the aroma wafting out of the oven. So sweet that hubby's teeth ached after trying one.

In his words, "If these weren't so sweet, they'd be awesome!"

Right. Next time I will make sure to halve the sugar in the recipe. Before I get to the next batch though, there's the matter of this current batch to finish off.

Crunchtime

It never fails to happen. I ALWAYS leave my writing assignments till the last possible minute. Happened when I was in school, back in college, then in university and even now when I have writing deadlines.

Like now. When I should be researching and writing. What do I do instead? Distract myself with all manner of things on the Web instead.

It's procrastination central here. And I'll dearly pay for it when deadline rolls around the corner. Heck, it's already around the corner, short of tripping me up and sending me flying headfirst into a collision with oncoming traffic.

I'm doomed.

A Day of Firsts

Yesterday, we had a number of firsts in the household:

1. Sophie's new bed from ikea arrived
2. I made okomiyaki (and it was delicious!)
3. Hubby started his chicken breast diet

So, doing item 1 and 2 were fun. Sophie was beyond herself with excitement when I opened up the package from ikea and started to assemble the bed. She not only wanted to sleep in her bed right away, hence egged me on to hurry up and complete it, but she tried in her own way to help too. This means emptying all the screw, nuts and bolts from the package and at one point, throwing a couple to the far end of the room. Not climbing over the bed frames as Jona and I were assembling them was too much of temptation to miss out on. And finally when the mattress was put on the bed, she didn't want to get off for us to put the sheets on. When we were finally done, she went down for her nap about 2 hours later than usual, about 2.30pm.

Preparing and cooking okonimiyaki was just as fun, if not counterproductive. Instead of enjoying dinner at the dinner table, I ate standing up at the kitchen counter, munching on my kewpie-mayo and tonkatsu drenched pancake as I cooked more batches of okonimiyaki. The dish is best eaten hot off the pan or griddle, that's why most Japanese, when they have it at home, cook it on a portable hotplate on the kitchen table. Or that's how I remember my host family eating it anyway.

Hubby's dinner was more bland. And a tad weird, according to him. It was a recipe for chicken thigh that I took off Good Health magazine and incorporated into chicken breasts. There were lemons and oranges and lentil involved. So much for his diet though, as he had more than his fair share of okonomiyaki as well.

All in all, it was a good day. Small fry went to bed in her own bed and I got to sleep through the whole night in my own bed too! What a blast!

Thank goodness for affordable kidtastic ikea furniture and bedding.

Totoro Mania

Move over, Elmo! Totoro mania has taken over at our house, with no signs of letting up.

We've been watching Totoro (in Japanese) after her evening shower every evening for a little over a week now. She exclaims excitedly when any of the Totoros show up. "See, see! It's the Totoro!"; "Oh, ooooh! It's the Totoro!"; "Gasp! It's holding the umbrella, Mummy!". The Cat Bus too. "The Cat Bus! The Cat Bus!" She explains (to herself? To Daddy?) what happens in the cartoon. Her most averse reaction is when the closing theme song ends. Then she wails. This never happened with Elmo. She was always willing to go to sleep when the credits rolled around. Not so with Totoro.

She still clutches her little Totoro around with her everywhere. And is still stuffing it's ears into her nostril. Miraculously, it is just a very slight tinge of grey. I also wiped off a bit of pumpkin off it when she wanted it to share her lunch with her.

She does her Totoro puzzle everyday. It's actually a 4-part puzzle. There are four different puzzles, ranging from 15, 35, 54 and 80 pieces. She likes doing all three but reserves the 80-piece cat bus puzzle for me. She's designated it as Mummy's puzzle and nobody else can do it.

I bought her a Totoro picture book a few days back, only because she was asking for it and she likes reinforcing her love for her favourite characters at bedtime with books. Every and any time she mentions Totoro, there's a glimmer in her eye and delight in her voice, "Totoro! Totoro! The Totoro!"

At night before bed, singing the two Totoro theme songs are mandatory. "Mummy, please sing the 'arugo' song? And the flying Totoro song."

When she awoke from her nap this afternoon, the first thing she started babbling about was Totoro and the cat bus. I think she was telling me something about Totoro riding the cat bus, etc. She may have dreamnt about Totoro, it's most likely. In any case, she couldn't stop talking about Totoro and the cat bus.

Daddy wanted to get her a stuffed Totoro even though I know in KL, I have two - the grey one and the blue one. I just have to dig them out from where I stashed them. That might take some time. Luckily, a store at Vivo City was selling the Totoro merchandise for 50% off, so we got her one. She hasn't stopped hugging it and playing with it since we got it this afternoon. As testimony to how much she's been hanging on to it and swinging it by the arms, the seams on one of its arms are starting to show some wear.

This evening, she started singing along to the opening song, 'A Walk' (the arugo song). It was pretty impressive. And darned cute!

I'm just wondering why Totoro is fascinating her so much. Maybe it's the fact that all three of the Totoro look like blobs and are really cute. They just bob along, they fly and they do cool things. And they travel in the Cat Bus.

I wonder how long her fascination will last. Even though doing the puzzles everyday is kinda getting to me, I hope she stays fascinated for a while longer.

Playmates

Sophia and her classmate, Chiara, met up after class for a playdate. Actually, it was more like the mommies decided that the kids needed to play together while we sat down to chat. Chiara's 10-year old brother, Tony, joined us because Chiara's mom managed to 'bribe' him to babysit the girls. The price? A toy dart gun from Toys R Us.

We set up shop at Spinelli's and I brought out the markers, stickers, paper and books. Tony had fun drawing but insisted that he couldn't draw properly with a marker. Chiara had fun with the Thomas (Tank Engine) and princess stickers. Sophie hijacked part of my ginger cookie and was more intent on eating and lounging on my lap than socialising or drawing.

After hanging around the tables for a tad too long, we instructed Tony to play with the girls and to get them up and running. Sophia, who normally doesn't take to other kids, let alone boys, promptly followed Tony's lead and the two girls headed with the boy out towards a more open area to romp and play, the girls to romp and Tony to practice aiming at the wall with his little dart gun. To his credit, Tony was really good with the girls, entertaining them with the dart gun and not getting too carried away with it himself but paying the girls attention too.

It turned out the dart gun fascinated both girls, especially Sophia, who squealed in delight every time the foam dart left the gun. In no time, she took to following Tony around, 'assisting' him by picking up the darts, bringing them to him and intently watching him load the gun. When he sat in a corner to fiddle with the gun, she sat next to him, watching closely. Pretty soon, she figured out how to shoot it (!!) and when Tony disappeared back to the tables for a break sans gun, I could hear her hollering, "Tony! Where are you? Can you help me, please?" Turns out she had the gun and needed help with it.

"Wow, Tony. You're a popular guy," I told him. Tony turned to look at me and said, "She calls me 'Bony', y'know."

Oh dear.

Not only does my daughter now know how to handle a gun, albeit a toy dart gun, but she also seems to be taking liberties with names.

Of course, once one of the girls decides that holding the gun is fun, the other wants it too. So Chiara came by and took the gun from Sophia. When I told the small fry (Sophia) she had to share, she burst out, "Dowan to SHARE!" and promptly threw herself onto the floor into a temper tantrum.

This happened a couple of times. In the end, we took a break for lunch (chicken nuggets for the girls and wraps for mommies and brother), and after we had gotten their attention away from the gun, they started running around looking for pigeons.

All in all, a pretty typical playdate for the day, other than the fact that she took to 10-year old Tony so well and the major temper tantrums. But then again, she is only two.

Knowing Who To Milk It From

"Oh, babe. Looks like we're running out of puzzles to do," I tell Sophie as we are keeping her Mickey puzzle. We've exhausted her puzzle collection twice over in the day.

"That's why kong-kong and po-po have to buy new puzzles. Sophie has no more puzzles," she quips.

Consumerism starts at 2.

Puzzle Mania

Sophia loves jigsaw puzzles. LOVES them. Not a day goes by without her bringing out her Pooh, Mickey, animal or Totoro puzzles. Not just once a day, frequently three or four times a day.

The downside to having a puzzle crazy child is that I have to do the puzzles with her. Usually she doesn't require any help. She just wants you to sit with her and turn the pieces the right side around. Or she'll take out a puzzle for you to do while she does another.

We have a few sets of puzzles we recycle over and over and over again daily. Over. And. Over. And. Over. AND. OVER.

It's starting to drive me bonkers.

I think I may just go out there and get myself a 1000 piece puzzle just to crack the monotony.

A New Addition

I spent about 45 minutes at the office of Janome's sole agent just up the road from where we live, watching the sales engineer teach me about the sewing machine I was about to purchase.

It was a done deal. I just wanted to know more about the machine and how to thread the needle and other basic stuff I should know before I got it.

They took only cash. The machine cost $299 and I had $160 on me.

Since I lived close by and had no car, he endevoured to deliver both me and the machine home and collect the cash after delivery too.

Now I can start on those projects I've been eyeing in my craft books.

Another Milestone

Small fry has graduated from referring to herself as 'Popie' and "Popiah' to actually saying her name, Sophie and Sophia.

Right around the time that Eve and Genie left yesterday.

After her nap today, while I was cutting up pineapple and Jona was helping her with her taufufa, she hollered, "Momiiiiieeeee!! Can you please feed Sophia?"

Hm.

Tremors

So while the rest of the country were reeling from the tremor from an earthquake off Padang that shook buildings at around 6.15pm, I was at the Mac, groggy from a nap, wondering if my slight swaying left and right was because of my heartbeat pumping up a storm through my head. You know when it's really quiet and all you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your head and it makes you feel like you're moving to its beat?

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Jona notices that the water in the bowls are quivering and the bunch of bananas hanging off the cupboard is swaying. She doesn't think to ask until several minutes later.

And then I look at her and go, "Oh, so it wasn't me feeling blur and groggy?"

"No! The water was moving and the bananas were swinging!"

Oh.

Somewhat Plastered

It's been a busy weekend. Hot on the heels of Raya, Genie and Eve dropped by for a visit over the weekend.

Their drive down to visit me was the best all of us could manage of our planned girls' get together that we'd talked about in 1999 a few years after we'd graduated. It was a visit long overdue.

Being the slovenly creatures that we are, and age having crept up on us, we spent much of the time lazing around and other than heading out to dinner before the F1 race, took it easy and tried to catch up as much as we could.

Catching up was somewhat foiled by the girls' new addiction, which I helped fuel: board gaming. When hubby first came home with two board games, one of which was Settlers of Catan, they were both not interested. I could tell by the skepticism in Eve's tone and the look on her face. Genie was no better: she looked even more tired when she looked at the board.

Right. That all changed when they started playing. From zero interest, they became gung-ho addicts. We went as far as bringing out the board every time we were home. And when Rizal and I were too tired to play, the two of them played TWO games by themselves and slept close to 3a.m.

Even on their last day in S'pore, they opted for two games before they left.

Looks like we've created a couple of monsters. At least Eve and her kids will have more to look forward to with her copy of Ticket To Ride than the crap Monopoly she has to play with them. And a whole new world of board gaming opportunities have opened up for Genie if she can find her own group of friends to play with.

Long live Settlers!

A New Fixation

Recently while we were back in KL, hubby played Totoro on the DVD with Sophie ensconced in the beanbag.

And therein created a monster. The next day we got her a Totoro puzzle set.

The small fry now has an absurd fascination with the triplet of white, grey and blue 'spirits' of Miyazaki's creation.

Last night was the first night we put Totoro in the DVD player after she'd had her run of Elmo's World. She remembered enough of the movie to ask her daddy to start from the beginning instead of the middle. And then exclaimed excitedly over the intro song. And asked for Tottoro during the movie and to go back to the intro song.

When it came time for bed, all hell broke loose. She didn't want to go to bed. She yelled. And bawled. Got to the point where I remembered I'd bought a little Tottoro key chain some time back but never got around to using it, hadn't even taken the plastic wrap off it's pristine white fur. And promptly dug it up to shut her up.

Off went the plastic. The small fry was dully appeased. Then off went the tag. No matter, at least she was quiet, happy and willing to go to bed. And it was small enough to fit into the palm of her hand. Finally off went the keychain. And I had to sing the darned Totoro songs over and over again. Not that I could remember the lyrics, so I just made up gobbledygook Japanese as I went along. Because she didn't want me to just hum the songs, she wanted me to SING them.

This morning, she clutched that little white thing in her hand all the way from the cab into class. She didn't let go of it in class. She had her dose of Totoro after dinner and is now asleep clutching the white blob in her hand.

It's time I dug out my grey and blue Totoros in KL. If only I can remember where I kept them.

Plant SOS

We have been hijacked by mealybugs. What I assumed were aphids on our basil plants about a week ago, turns out to be mealybugs. Thanks to hubby's prowess at googling, the plants' infestation has been correctly diagnosed.

Mealybugs are nasty! They're sexually dimorphic and short of letting loose some ladybugs to eat them up, there's not much we can do for indoor plants. Oh, we could also attack the pests ONE BY ONE by dousing them with a cotton bud soaked with rubbing alcohol. However, given the current status of infestation, by the time we get all the bugs and their offspring, the plants would probably be dead.

The mint is dying, of what, I'm not sure yet but there seems to be another infestation. There's a hoard of bugs in the soil in the pot. A HOARD. I'm not even going to go there. I told Jona to bundle the whole pot and chuck it but it is being put together with the two pots of basil in the ER.

The ER is the outside, alongside some bushes and flowers in the apartment complex. We figured there's gotta be a better chance of ladybugs getting to the plants out there than us actually getting any ladybugs ourselves on the twelve floor.

We'll give it a few days and see what happens.

So far, the only plant that doesn't seem to have any problems whatsoever and is happily multiplying is the menthol. If only we had more use for it.

Casualty

The rosemary is dead. One out of six. The thyme recovered and the others are more or less flourishing.

The small fry is making smacking the menthol a part of her daily routine. The Thai basil too. Just like how she boxes and pummels her fists and plows her head into Pixel. And how he valiantly (stupidly) absorbs her abuse.

Needing More Shelf Space

And here's more books to add to the collection:

1. This Lovely Life - Vicki Forman
2. Living Out Loud: Activities To Fuel A Creative Life - Keri Smith
3. 52 Projects: Random Acts Of Everyday Creativity - Jeffrey Yamaguchi

Books Bought

Have been on a buying spree lately. Books ordered from Amazon and also a splurge at Kino due to their 20% anniversary discount. All these were bought in batches, not all at once, thank goodness. This may give you an idea of where I'm headed at this point of my creative pursuits. Sadly, the library has not missed my presence much (life goes on at the library). I've missed taking the short bus ride there but am putting my fiction reading on hold for now.

1. Digital Photography: The Digital Photography Book, Vols. 1-3 - Scott Kelby
2. Layers: The Complete Guide To Photoshop's Most Powerful Feature - Matt Kosklowski
3. The Hot Shoe Diaries - Joe McNally
4. The Adobe Photoshop CS4 Book For Digital Photographers - Scott Kelby
5. The Adobe Lightroom Book for Digital Photogtaphers - Scott Kelby
6. The Creative Family - Amanda Blake Soul
7. Happens Every Day: An All-Too-True Story - Isabel Gillies
8. Simply Sublime Bags: 30 No-Sew, Low-Sew Projects - Jodi Kahn
9. Bend-The-Rules Sewing - Amy Karol
10. Zakka Sewing: 25 Japanese Projects For The Household - Therese Laskey, Chika Mori
11. Martha Stewart's Encyclopedia of Crafts - Martha Stewart
12. Julie & Julia - Julie Powell
13. My Life In France - Julia Child
14. Not Quite What I was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs - Ed. Smith Magazine
15. The Cats Of Kittyville: New Lifes For Rescued Felines: Best Friends Animal Society
16. Cookie's Week - Cindy Ward
17. Twinkles, Arthur and Puss - Judith Kerr
18. Dogtown: A Sanctuary For Rescued Dogs - Bob Somerville

My Friend Barney

She loves posing. Alone. With her toy friends. With her books. With mommy and daddy. She loves being recorded. On print and on video. And she loves looking at herself.

Magic Box

The many uses of an ikea storage box is not lost on us as we go about our daily lives. We do all we can to entertain ourselves with as many daily objects as possible. We already have too many toys, as it is. So a box on wheels is perfect as a 'train' or a moving ball pit. It barely fits her but she loves it.

The Sticky Brown Cows

The brown cows know how to live it up. They do it in style and they do it together. Always.

Difficult For Whom?

After her breakfast this morning, the munch monster wanted Jona to sit with her with Tiger in her hands while she did her jigsaw puzzle.

"It's so very difficult, Tiger!" she exclaimed as she deftly manouvred the pieces into place.

In the kitchen, I'm trying not to laugh my head off at her exclamation. At the same time, I'm wondering where she picked up that three syllable word. So I rattled off in my head the three syllable words she knows, with a few four syllable ones thrown in:

banana

apricot

strawberry

papaya

vegetable

crocodile

everybody

everywhere

beginning

difficult

disappear

watermelon

Note the recurring theme?

Pulling a David Blaine

And failing, at that. No matter, she doens't need tricks and illusions to endear her to everyone's hearts.

Mooooommmmmmyyy!!

This face is why she gets her way most of the time.

Sigh, the clock is ticking and the little monster is growing up. Fast.

Tutu Cute!

The Kate Mack swimsuit. Which doubles as a play tutu. It's really too cute to get all wet at the pool. So we romped in it at home.

She didn't want to take it off.

More Mountains And Hills In Sight

I've finally gone and bought myself a flash. I decided to just spring for an SB900. Might as well. It's actually really versatile and quite fun to fiddle around with.

Then I realised that my Crumpler CANNOT fit the 50mm lens and the flash in it. Not with the camera in there as well. So now, before I can even think about getting the 17-50mm lens, I've gotta think about getting a new home for my camera gear.

Great.

This will never end.

No Humans Allowed

District 9 has got to be one of the best movies I've seen in a while. Here's why:

1. There are no big names in this flick.
2. There are no big names in this flick, hence, it's a refreshing change.
3. There are no big names in this flick, hence, the movie actually feels 'real' (it's done in a documentary style).
4. There are no big names in this flick, it's not based on a book and it's original.
5. There are no big names in this flick and it's still a really great movie.

I could say more but I don't believe in spoilers. Haven't seen it yet? Go catch it before it ends its run at the cinema.

Itsy Bitsy Etsy

Etsy's been around for yonks and I've known of its existence ever since I can remember. But I've never been tempted to trawl for stuff there.

That's all changed. A few days ago, I wound up on the site and well, let's just say I haven't been able to not visit the site on a daily basis. I have bought only from one seller but I've got a list of favourites.

Luckily, some of the sellers don't ship overseas. And I'm also mostly a miser. Although a compulsive shopper at that. The two don't gel but most times, the compulsiveness wins.

So while I've been trying to regularly post photos on my alterna site (even that's kinda stalled for the moment), I've been pretty much quiet on the refried brains front. It may stay that way and I may end up hiccuping along for a bit.

Now, excuse me while I shop.

Spot of Colour

I almost forgot about the many photos I took at a Hindu temple during one of my photog outings with the group. Not very many turned out. But there were some that I liked. This is one of them. It's a flower garland at an altar. Can't see the deity; I wanted to catch the burst of colour on the white stone.

Herb Pots

We've just got ourselves a pot each of sweet basil, thyme, rosemary, mint and menthol. Always wanted to have our own little herb 'garden'. I guess pots will have to do for now. They're still in their ugly little plastic brown pots, with no bases. So the plastic bags they came in are serving as bases. I hope to get some nicer pots to put them in and maybe then there'll be some nice photos of them to post up. We used the basil already, for our fried rice. Yumm....

Attention Seeker

He would love to sleep on the bed with us if he could. So he takes whatever liberties he can. If the door is open and we are on the bed, then we'll eventually find him curled up at our feet.

National Day Sparks

I had my settings all done up. I had the camera pointed at the right direction with the Flyer in view at the bottom left.

And then something happened.

My settings went mysteriously awry and the camera angle shifted; instead of 5 seconds, the shutter speed had gone up to 1/5 seconds. And as I was shooting away at the beginning, I was cracking my head and wondering what was wrong.

It wasn't till the very end that I figured it out. And these are the only two shots I managed to get that are even moderately good.

Plus I lost the Flyer. Completely forgot about it.

I need to get to know my camera better.

Languishing In A Sweat Bath

"Why am I doing this?"

The thought crossed my mind more than a few times as I got into the nth pose during my Hot Yoga session this morning. I feel like a piece of limp dough that's been stretched out and left in the sun too long, and I'm melting into oblivion.

The pose itself I could execute. It was the 38 degree room that felt stifling and made holding the pose all the more difficult. I had to drag my mind away from the thought of the heat. It boiled down to just me, my mat and my sweat.

Sometime later, T-shirt drenched and yoga pants pretty much soaked through, I figure it's almost the end of the class because I hear the click of a knob and the drone of the heater softens. All right, I can do this; I'm almost there.

90 excruciating minutes later, while we're in the relaxed pose (the names of poses elude me), lying down on the mat with eyes closed, I pick up the sound of the instructor opening the windows, letting in a burst of cool air and turning on the air-conditioning.

Finally.

I slow down my breathing some more. Relax. And try to relish having sweat more in 90 minutes than I have in a week.

A warm shower later, clean hair, skin and clothes, and I feel rejuvenated. More than I have in yonks. I look in the mirror and my cheeks are actually flushed.

Then the hairdryer decides it doesn't want to work for me. It's humiliating because there's someone else using the other one just fine. So I wait and walk back into the dressing room when the other person's done. No luck. Even that hairdryer decides I'm beneath it to work.

The receptionist has to get in there and make sure I'm not pulling her leg. Sure enough, one of them is a dud.

I end up signing up for a 20+5 class programme.

When I see Rizal for lunch, he says I sound and look happier. Huh. And then says why didn't I sign up for a 100 classes or more? Huh.

We'll see if I survive the 25 first.