I'm one of those people, whom if you slap on a pair of headphones and pipe in some fantastic music, gets caught up in it all and starts nodding her head, tapping her feet, mouthing the lyrics or moving some part of my body.
Can't help it. Music is infectious. Good music is a waste not to move to.
I'm one of those people who, if I see on the public transport, are oblivious to how annoying their foot-tapping, head-bobbing and lyric-mouthing can be.
I'm so annoying I even irritate myself.
No matter, good music is good music anywhere.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Chasing Lions
Small fry saw her first lion dance today.
I noticed the troupe waiting at the corner of the main entrance to Wheelock and stopped the stroller by the side. Then I thought it would be a good idea for the small fry to catch a lion dance. I asked her if she wanted to watch and she said yes. As a precautionary measure, I explained to her that there would be drums and that it would be loud but that the lions needed the loud drums to dance to. And if she felt that it was too loud at any time, then we'll just leave.
I needn't have worried.
We were standing right by the side of the troupe as they were banging away on the drums and clashing the cymbals. The pair of golden lions strutted and danced around outside the entrance and did their thang: jumped around, peeled and gave out mandarin oranges, plucked and spit out lettuce, and finally bowed and posed for photos with the building management.
The small fry wasn't satisfied with just the main event outside at the entrance. When the troupe got ready to head into Wheelock and proceed to do the building walk-around, she insisted I follow the lions, refusing my counteroffer of a noodle lunch. So we were the troupe's devoted followers (other than the management), tailing along with the small fry clapping her hands enthusiastically while yelling, "Follow, mummy! Faster, faster!"
We tailed the lions and their troupe across all floors of the building (all 6 of them, including 2 basements) and finally when they were done, I had to placate the small fry by telling her the lions needed to rest and that she needed her lunch. And that we'd try to catch them again later or over the weekend.
It being the sixth day of Chinese New Year, I should have expected there'd be more lion dances at the other malls too. As we were walking through Ngee Ann to get to Cineleisure Orchard, I heard the drums reverberate through the mall. I knew I wouldn't be able to bluff my way out of chasing the lions, so I gave in and told the small fry we'd go look for the lions.
We found two different troupes dancing and ushering in the new year at several boutiques and we tailed both of them, one after the other. Small fry didn't find the deafening noise a deterrent; she deftly plugged up her ears with her fingers when the noise got too much to bear. And she insisted on staying till the very end.
I was almost deaf after the performances. The small fry pouted and wanted more.
My daughter, the lion chaser.
I noticed the troupe waiting at the corner of the main entrance to Wheelock and stopped the stroller by the side. Then I thought it would be a good idea for the small fry to catch a lion dance. I asked her if she wanted to watch and she said yes. As a precautionary measure, I explained to her that there would be drums and that it would be loud but that the lions needed the loud drums to dance to. And if she felt that it was too loud at any time, then we'll just leave.
I needn't have worried.
We were standing right by the side of the troupe as they were banging away on the drums and clashing the cymbals. The pair of golden lions strutted and danced around outside the entrance and did their thang: jumped around, peeled and gave out mandarin oranges, plucked and spit out lettuce, and finally bowed and posed for photos with the building management.
The small fry wasn't satisfied with just the main event outside at the entrance. When the troupe got ready to head into Wheelock and proceed to do the building walk-around, she insisted I follow the lions, refusing my counteroffer of a noodle lunch. So we were the troupe's devoted followers (other than the management), tailing along with the small fry clapping her hands enthusiastically while yelling, "Follow, mummy! Faster, faster!"
We tailed the lions and their troupe across all floors of the building (all 6 of them, including 2 basements) and finally when they were done, I had to placate the small fry by telling her the lions needed to rest and that she needed her lunch. And that we'd try to catch them again later or over the weekend.
It being the sixth day of Chinese New Year, I should have expected there'd be more lion dances at the other malls too. As we were walking through Ngee Ann to get to Cineleisure Orchard, I heard the drums reverberate through the mall. I knew I wouldn't be able to bluff my way out of chasing the lions, so I gave in and told the small fry we'd go look for the lions.
We found two different troupes dancing and ushering in the new year at several boutiques and we tailed both of them, one after the other. Small fry didn't find the deafening noise a deterrent; she deftly plugged up her ears with her fingers when the noise got too much to bear. And she insisted on staying till the very end.
I was almost deaf after the performances. The small fry pouted and wanted more.
My daughter, the lion chaser.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
A While In The Dry
It's been silent here for a while. As usual, I've been chasing deadlines, trying to find inspiration and getting caught up in the everyday.
In reflection, let me take you to Steve McCurry.
In reflection, let me take you to Steve McCurry.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Flights Of Totoro Fancy
Whoooooeeeee!
We're off on a Totoro adventure. Everyday is Totoro-sighting day. Ever since Brisbane, small fry's been seeing Totoros everywhere. We'd be walking along nicely and suddenly she stops dead in her tracks and points to a tree or a spot somewhere in the distance and say,
"Oooh, Mummy, look, look! Ooohh! It's Totoro!"
"Wow! Really? Where, where?"
"There, there, over there! On the tree!"
"What's he doing?"
"He's picking apples! Nah, here's one for you, Mummy."
"Thanks, babe."
Let's call that Scenario #1.
Scenario #2
"Oooooh look, Mummy! Totoro's on the bus!"
"He is? Where's he going?"
"To the library!"
"What's he gonna do at the library?"
"Borrow some books!"
Hm, yeah...Totoro would be interested in going to the library at the Gold Coast.
Scenario #3
*Gasp* "I can see Totoro, Mummy!"
"Where?"
"There, there! He's on the Wheel!" (The Brisbane Eye - Brisbane's version of the London Eye)
"What's he doing there?"
"He's going for a ride!"
Scenario #4
While observing the fishes and sharks at the underwater viewing gallery at Seaworld, Gold Coast:
"Totoro's swimming, Mummy. Look, look!"
"Where?"
"There, there! Over there!"
"Are you sure? Can he swim?"
"Um yeah, Mummy."
Scenario #5
"Totoro's driving the car, Mummy!"
Scenario #6
"Totoro's over there, digging some nuts, Mummy."
Scenario #7
"I see Totoro's ears! He's at the window eating, Mummy!"
"Wah, what's he eating?"
"Um, nuts, Mummy."
Scenario #8
She's on the bed reading or watching TV when suddenly she gets up and starts rummaging around in the luggage.
"Baby, what are you doing?"
"I'm looking for the little, tiny Totoro, Mummy."
The little, tiny Totoro has been missing for a while at our house.
That's not including the times when she'll inadvertently burst out into song, serenading everyone within a 10-30m radius with the two theme songs from Totoro. Yes, in Japanese. And yes, it could happen ANYWHERE: bookstores, walking along the sidewalk, sitting in her stroller and even in the bus.
IN. A. BUS. With passengers.
Yes, that's my little Totoro-spotting and theme-song spouting small fry. What would life be without her?
Unimaginable.
We're off on a Totoro adventure. Everyday is Totoro-sighting day. Ever since Brisbane, small fry's been seeing Totoros everywhere. We'd be walking along nicely and suddenly she stops dead in her tracks and points to a tree or a spot somewhere in the distance and say,
"Oooh, Mummy, look, look! Ooohh! It's Totoro!"
"Wow! Really? Where, where?"
"There, there, over there! On the tree!"
"What's he doing?"
"He's picking apples! Nah, here's one for you, Mummy."
"Thanks, babe."
Let's call that Scenario #1.
Scenario #2
"Oooooh look, Mummy! Totoro's on the bus!"
"He is? Where's he going?"
"To the library!"
"What's he gonna do at the library?"
"Borrow some books!"
Hm, yeah...Totoro would be interested in going to the library at the Gold Coast.
Scenario #3
*Gasp* "I can see Totoro, Mummy!"
"Where?"
"There, there! He's on the Wheel!" (The Brisbane Eye - Brisbane's version of the London Eye)
"What's he doing there?"
"He's going for a ride!"
Scenario #4
While observing the fishes and sharks at the underwater viewing gallery at Seaworld, Gold Coast:
"Totoro's swimming, Mummy. Look, look!"
"Where?"
"There, there! Over there!"
"Are you sure? Can he swim?"
"Um yeah, Mummy."
Scenario #5
"Totoro's driving the car, Mummy!"
Scenario #6
"Totoro's over there, digging some nuts, Mummy."
Scenario #7
"I see Totoro's ears! He's at the window eating, Mummy!"
"Wah, what's he eating?"
"Um, nuts, Mummy."
Scenario #8
She's on the bed reading or watching TV when suddenly she gets up and starts rummaging around in the luggage.
"Baby, what are you doing?"
"I'm looking for the little, tiny Totoro, Mummy."
The little, tiny Totoro has been missing for a while at our house.
That's not including the times when she'll inadvertently burst out into song, serenading everyone within a 10-30m radius with the two theme songs from Totoro. Yes, in Japanese. And yes, it could happen ANYWHERE: bookstores, walking along the sidewalk, sitting in her stroller and even in the bus.
IN. A. BUS. With passengers.
Yes, that's my little Totoro-spotting and theme-song spouting small fry. What would life be without her?
Unimaginable.
Desperately Seeking Affection
Something must have short-wired in Trixie's brain. Ever since we came back from Brisbane and she had her session of TLC and combing during the New Year, she's been a magnet for affection.
She tries to get close to me at all times of the day, seeking out hugs, eskimo kisses and nuzzles most of the time she's awake. Usually she seeks me out only during the night when only hubby and I are awake or when she sniffs my warm milk in a mug.
Must be the short stint when we left them at home by themselves with no company but the plants and the cat sitter coming in every other day to replenish their food and water.
I'm not complaining. It's nice for a change to have her come looking for me rather than the other way around.
The boy's the same as ever; he's my cat-dog, my attention-loving dog stuck in a cat's body. He still comes to me when I'm out of the room every morning, or whenever I'm around the house, trying to nudge my legs, feet or hands. And when it's just hubby and me up at night in the living room, he never fails to burrow himself in between both of us or worse, find a viable spot on my sarong where I'm curled up and try to curl up there himself, even if it's obvious there's really not enough room for his substantial bulk. If I move away, he usually tries to follow and tries to at least lean his bulk next to me.
If we sleep with the bedroom door open any time of the day, he'll be there on our bed. At one point over the course of the holidays, there were five living things on our bed; FIVE. LIVING. BREATHING. BEINGS. On our QUEEN-SIZED bed, two of them furry. One of them the size of a small dog, one who sounds like a bulldozer, the other who takes up more space than an octopus, with limbs flailing in all directions.
Welcome to my crazy, furry zoo.
She tries to get close to me at all times of the day, seeking out hugs, eskimo kisses and nuzzles most of the time she's awake. Usually she seeks me out only during the night when only hubby and I are awake or when she sniffs my warm milk in a mug.
Must be the short stint when we left them at home by themselves with no company but the plants and the cat sitter coming in every other day to replenish their food and water.
I'm not complaining. It's nice for a change to have her come looking for me rather than the other way around.
The boy's the same as ever; he's my cat-dog, my attention-loving dog stuck in a cat's body. He still comes to me when I'm out of the room every morning, or whenever I'm around the house, trying to nudge my legs, feet or hands. And when it's just hubby and me up at night in the living room, he never fails to burrow himself in between both of us or worse, find a viable spot on my sarong where I'm curled up and try to curl up there himself, even if it's obvious there's really not enough room for his substantial bulk. If I move away, he usually tries to follow and tries to at least lean his bulk next to me.
If we sleep with the bedroom door open any time of the day, he'll be there on our bed. At one point over the course of the holidays, there were five living things on our bed; FIVE. LIVING. BREATHING. BEINGS. On our QUEEN-SIZED bed, two of them furry. One of them the size of a small dog, one who sounds like a bulldozer, the other who takes up more space than an octopus, with limbs flailing in all directions.
Welcome to my crazy, furry zoo.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Hello, 2010!
The plan was to watch the fireworks from hubby's office last night, complete with small fry in tow. Jona's back in the Philippines on break and neither set of parents are quite dispensed to come down to mind the small fry.
That was the plan, anyway.
Small fry had much to adjust to from traveling to and back from Brisbane that it seemed too much to ask of her to schlep along with us to catch an annual fireworks display. I was ok with staying at home, heck, was even dressed for an evening home, even though I'd already preset the settings for the camera for the night.
Final word from hubby sealed it though. We'd brought out the stroller and were prepping it to transfer a sleeping small fry into it when he turned around and thought better of the idea. I just shrugged and went back to my book.
My enthusiasm for the new year was that abundant. Yay. In truth, it's just another year and another 365 days to call a new year.
But the brown cows had a blast. They got a major grooming session while we were catching the fireworks on TV. At least some members of the family were receiving some pretty much needed TLC.
Welcome, 2010.
That was the plan, anyway.
Small fry had much to adjust to from traveling to and back from Brisbane that it seemed too much to ask of her to schlep along with us to catch an annual fireworks display. I was ok with staying at home, heck, was even dressed for an evening home, even though I'd already preset the settings for the camera for the night.
Final word from hubby sealed it though. We'd brought out the stroller and were prepping it to transfer a sleeping small fry into it when he turned around and thought better of the idea. I just shrugged and went back to my book.
My enthusiasm for the new year was that abundant. Yay. In truth, it's just another year and another 365 days to call a new year.
But the brown cows had a blast. They got a major grooming session while we were catching the fireworks on TV. At least some members of the family were receiving some pretty much needed TLC.
Welcome, 2010.
Monday, December 21, 2009
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.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
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.
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