Thursday, April 30, 2009


The moment my ah bu set her eyes upon Gooly, she was shocked!

"A 'peng yan' of his papah!" She reckoned everything was from the same cookie mold. Gooly's eyes, nose and lips uncannily resembled his papah's.

When we had the full moon party, friends also expressed major amazement, "Walau, look like his father leh." and then there were some who seemed to be in utter disbelief, "Oh my gawd, how can be so same?"

My ah bu still finds it funny that every inch of Gooly contains a little gene of Papahs's. The way he walks, they way he stands, eats, sits.. his posture, basically, is a mini version of his father's. It would seem like this observation is universal.

However, papah dissents. He thinks Gooly is an individual, who looks like himself. And when it comes to Gooly's misbehaviors, he would shrewdly point an accusal finger at me, stating that my 'kns' attitude is dominant.

Meanwhile, I was some-what apathetic about his look-like-who appearance though I kidded a lot that only his fingernails are like mine.

And then something happened...

Gooly was drawing on a piece of paper. He was concentrating on the details of his submarine. And then I saw IT!

..his protuding lips! OMG! Papah protudes his lips too when deep in thoughts! Haha!

.. and he likes to 'kopek' his toenails, just like his papah! Double haha! But he hasn't discover the skill of piling the dead skins and cells at the corner of the table. When that happens, there will be Petronas Twin Towers (one from him, one from his papah. How endearing!) at hidden corners of my home.

... and both of them talk as if loud speakers are attached to their mouths. You don't want to be seen with them at libraries.

If this trend continues, I think there will come a day when I see Gooly shaking his legs. Hoho.... Papah is very very very famous for this uncouth habit. During his first meeting with my ahpa, he was exhibiting his 'elvis' leg shaking movement. And my ahpa did advise him against it, because 'money will all get shaken away.' *gasp*

Alas, he didn't shake the habit away. With a toothpick in between his jaws while shaking, I dare say he is haughty looking.

Is Gooly doomed to have this same trait?

Or even worse..the other trait that involves nostrils and fingers and the public. Go figure.

Gooly, come... OHM~~~~~~ I am departing my demure genes to you. Saudoemoe?

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Here n there

It's exciting when it's Wednesday because 50% of the weekdays are gone, and what lies ahead is the lovely weekends!

Ah... I love the weekends. Who don't?

We have been dining here and there over the weekends. Here are a few pics of the places we have been. Thais are very creative and not at all banal when it comes to interior designing, you agree?

This restaurant is a bit of a Morocco feel. Greece must be somewhat like that too. How would I know - I have never been to neither, nor have I watched Mamamia. Can you believe it (of the latter, I mean)?

This Korean Shabu is on the first floor which oversees a huge tree at the facade of the building. So, it's kinda like dining in a tree house. Never mind the startled look on Gooly's face. You will see it often from now on.

"After You" is at the ground floor. We love the ambiance. It's cozy, and for the same reason, many chicks hang out there. And for THAT reason, papah likes to go there too. He likes the waitress whom he thinks has the hots for him. I pointed out that she has a tinge of moustache. "So do you, and I married you!" he retorted. My left hand automatically went up to my upper lip while the other instinctively attempted a swat on his head. See how shamelessly we flirt in public?

This cafe has got their principle of marketing right.They can afford to charge more because they give fancy names to their cakes. Instead of Cheese Cake with Oreo, they dub it Cookie Monster, and Gooly who can read now thinks it's too cute a name NOT to be eaten. Meanwhile, Papah is too embarrassed to be order French Kiss which is just Hot Chocolate in actual fact.

If I were to be a hawker, I will sell One Tonne Mee instead of Wantan Mee. Then I can hike up the price to another ten cents per bowl.

Besides fattening up, we do go for literacy excursion too. Thailand Knowledge Park (TK Park, for short) is a library tucked atop of the Supermarket in Central World which not many people know. A daily pass costs 40 baht but you can't check out any books unless you are a member. I was impressed with the selection of books they have.

This is the children area. These hexagonal cum bee hive seats are cute, though I think they are more suited in a park.

A flight of stairs lead us to the 'tree house' , again with cute circular seats. Pillows are propped for better spinal support. But it was still uncomfortable for a big baboon like me to read in a compromised position.

These are what I chose to read. Hello, Mr. President! It's a very new book, meaning they update their collection regularly.

And the classic which I never get bored of, The Missing Piece by Shel Silverstein.

And ooh.. a book about Kiki. Such a lovely name. :P

And while Gooly got busy with coloring activities, I went further to explore. Most books are in Thai. I have always thought printing and translation business in Thai is thriving because they really do translate every novel into the Thai language. And that can also mean that Thais are much more literate than Malaysians. They like books, and read more than us. It is evidently so because the library was jammed pack. (Maybe they don't know about blogging :P)

And there is a music room, complete with a piano and some guitars and some music scores. A man was playing the piano. I thought, "How nice!" but if it's a Malaysian playing in Malaysia, I would have thought, "What a poser!"

Anyways, I thought the weekend crowd was too rowdy. We should come another day. And Gooly will treat the place with greater respect as oppose to treating it like a park, jumping and hullabaloo-ing every where.

A mental note to self. Gotta learn how to check out the books. The members seem to be self efficient, checking out books with a very complex bar coding system. So canggih! Tit tit~ and out they go. Jabatan Akrib Negara, when will you be so canggih leh? :P

And last week, after music class, Gooly and I went for his first bowling session. For Rm10 for 3 sets of games, ok wat.. Better than those rides that cost more and last shorter. I didn't know they have those slides which you could align and then just roll off the ball (on the far right of the pic). It's so defeating the purpose of the game. But it's ok-lah. Gooly enjoyed it. Striked and spared a few games. Not bad. The friendly staff were helpful, more so because they thought Gooly was a Japanese. I dunno, but I have a hunch the Thais think Japs are cuter and more exotic. When they hear you are from a neighbouring country, you can almost sense the balloons in them deflated. You are not so exotic if you are a Malaysian. Boohooloo!

And now we are 51% done with the weekdays!

Weekends, hurry naaa! Ni ji tau wo jai ting ni ma?

Am I entitled to Mother's Day?

Following is three ceritas, which were drafted but not published because...erm..Mother's Day is coming, and I want a gift. :P They revolve around the theme of 'space constraint', and if you took Literature 101, I am sure you can detect a tinge of I YAM A BAD MOTHER confession. For Mother Day's sake, the author is remorseful, of course.

In pre-marital relationships, I was never clingy. Even at younger ages, I had been detected with a solitary attitude. I am not the sort who needs companions all the time. I have never quite understood the embarrassment some would feel when they are caught eating alone. I am more than ok with the idea of papah gallivanting with his pals once a while. I encourage it even because he doesn’t do it often and every man needs a beer now and then. It is, after all, God’s next best creation after man, according to Benjamin Franklin.

I am ok with myself

I think I like me.

Fine, I am some-what narcissistic.

But solitude doesn’t come by often when you are a full time mother. In my case, I have a four year old who clings to me like a Siamese twin, born 30 years apart. (Funny! I love my sardonic humour!)

Gooly goes to sleep holding my hand, with his pillow properly aligned with mine, with a 3mm gap.

In the morning, I wake when my eyes are forcefully pried open. Though blurry due to my poor eyesight, I can sense Gooly’s presence because he is merely inches away from my face.

Now you must know that I get irascible when I am awoken! *ROAR*I am cheery some mornings. I appreciate the blue sky and pay homage to Gaea even. But most mornings… I need to be alone for a while!

(Papah suggested that I wake earlier, when all is still dark, and I can be alone all I want. The smart alec sure needs a swift kick in the arse.)

Because Gooly isn’t dispensable easily, I have resorted to "Waterloo" escapades. Even then, a soft knock will come with an impertinent request.

“Mahmee, can I have a cookie?”

For a moment, I am irresolute. Say yes, so that he can let me have a peaceful shit? Or say NO and flush and exit?

I choose the latter because I do not wish to be out-smarted by my son who has an innate ability to know when I am most likely succumb to his requests in search of quiet moments a.k.a peaceful shit.

Am I typing this in solitude? Of course not. He is like a fly hovering waiting to be swatted.

A fly swatter.

That’s what I want for Christmas.

Write that down please.

While there are aqua babies, Gooly was just not one of them. He is always careful around water. He walks down the steps into the pool, never jumps into the pool. With swimming as part of his daily activities, he has gotten bolder though.

Yesterday, he attempted to ‘dive’ into the pool, after giving very specific instructions to me.

First, you bend down.

Then you put your hands out.

Then you scratch (and he scratched his elbow).

“You surely meant s-t-r-e-t-c-h, and not scratch, son?”

No, scratch, and then dive.

That’s preposterous. And I refused to follow his strict regime. Trust an uncooperative mahmee cum playmate to build character, eh? The only child is often depicted as spoilt, autocratic and selfish. Gooly will not be one of them because his mahmee is more spoilt, autocratic and selfish, but that’s another story. :P

And so he gave in. He said I could dive which ever way I wanted.

I opted for a double loop, backward and fore-leap pancake dive.

With a loud splash.

.. which resulted in a considerable water reduction in the pool. Imagine a hippo diving. Heheh.

Gooly laughed mercilessly and with mirth.

Swimming is so much fun, when you have a hippo mom.

Hippos float well. Coincidentally I love to float. Actually I love the ‘vacuum’ sensation when all the sounds (especially those emitted from Gooly) are being drowned out as the waters cover my ears..

..and it’s just the blue skies and me.

..for at least a few seconds.

... better than nothing.

This is the last piece brings us to the conclusion of "Gooly is a far more better person than his mom." (Jot down what the professor says, ok?)

Even though unpublished, he must have sensed the existence of the earlier stories. Or have I been emitting the 'bugger off' aura too often?

As reported, he wakes the earliest. And I have not been exactly sugar and spice.

This morning, as usual, he awoke only to yell, "Mahmeeeeee, I am done! Please come wash me~'

#*$)@$*! Early early, had to face excrement. Annoyed, and groggy, I stepped in .

Huh? He hid his face in his hands and said, "Don't frown at me."

Who in the world looks nice in the morning prior face wash? And with a scowl, it is very dahsyat..

Don't kill me. I already said I yam a bad mother.

So I went back to bed. *hold your knife!*

For many many minutes, I was between dates with 'chaukung' and hearing Gooly's soft 'zoom, kabish, feeeeuw'(he was playing with his car toys)

You see, he has been very considerate, playing quietly while patiently awaits my 'awakening!'.

When I finally did, he gave a cheery grin and a peck on the cheek.

"Good MORNING, mahmee!"

There are some mixed-up roles here.

He is mothering me.

Mother's Day?I feel mocked.

That said, I, Goolymama..*put hand on my LV bag* bersumpah akan cuba.. CUBA bangun pukul 7 pagi mulai esok.


Tell me, did you miss me?

Yeah! I am back! *put on music*

We will we will ROCK YOU! (Why this song? I donch know, yau ying toe sei..)

I was actually envisioning and plotting a homicide for the internet guy. He promised to come eons ago. As suggested by GG, I was already on standby, wearing a sarong. Very provocative indeed. He probably had a whiff of my 'eau de body' from a mile away, and thus didn't turn up many many times. On Sunday, we waited for two hours. Yesterday, the 'airplane flew' again. Finally today he came. But he was so overly courteous! Alamak! I didn't even know how to fake my initial anger. And he kept saying Gooly is handsome...Gooly is smart.... Well, for his 'frankness' and 'honesty', I forgive his tardiness.

Anyways, what is important is the speed of this new babeee! It's like Flash Gordon married Superman, and they had an offspring who inherited their dominant genes and, who became a SPEEDO spokesperson. (WTH was that? :P) Va-va-voom!

BUT equally important to announce is this bit of news..

Last week, I was quite supportive of Koffee Prince. Papah was away, and the state of internet-less had prompted me to be a loyal customer of theirs. I was also having my period and thus can’t swim, but you need not know that, though you do now.

Across Koffee Prince are some boutiques. I do go around taking a shufti and many times, end up wishing I hadn't. And then there is a saloon.


It’s pestilential when I am bored and menstruating. The last time it happened, I think I bought a bag too many. And the time before, somebody got bashed up badly (verbally-lah) and two months before.... wait, I am not recollecting the past year’s 12 unfortunate events.

Anyway,I exited the saloon with a new look. My fringe looks like Liucas has chewed on it. It’s super-short, and zig-zaggy. When I smile, I look slightly maniacal. With eye liner, I look like a “chau aqua’.

Not that I am complaining.

Yeah, those are not complaints. They are just facts. With or without the bang, I am already maniacal and have always been charged with a modicum of male hormones. And what more when my hair outgrows my toenails all the time. When I am in KL, I will look like before. And nobody would know I had the weirdest hairstyle.

And now I gotta murder you to silence you.

Krrrreeeek! *finger across your neck*

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Maid of honour

Every once a while, there will be a post on maids. Or you will here juicy gossips during your evening soirees about how impertinent they are.. how gormless they are.. how ‘hiao’ they are.. And I wonder, why bother to have them? Of course, I am at liberty to say that because I am a housewife. So, it really isn’t my utmost priority to consider what other options there are.

I am a bit like Hermione who advocates rights for house-elves. In our world, they are more commonly known as ‘maids’, of course. Not that I don’t shiver in fear or shake my head in disgust when I hear stories about them abusing children, or them seducing, charming husbands. I am appalled and therefore I will not consider them my solution to my household problems, should there be any.

We used to have a distant aunt who stayed with us when I was younger. She cooked and cleaned the house. But I had my equal share of house chores, like mopping the floor. When she left, we had Indonesian maids, some live-in, others part-time. So, yes, we had always had the privilege to have helpers around the house.

One ran away with a laborer, which is common. But we didn’t label the next as a prospect adulterer. Another stole money, and yet again, we didn’t conclude that all maids are born thieves. We treated each and every one of them as individuals. If it’s not too much, we treat them with respect.

“Kak, nanti tolong cucikan baju ni, ye?” Requests as such always end with a humble ‘terima kasih.’

Ellen used to work for a very close friend’s family. Everytime I was there for a ‘wallop’ of food, she was invited to join us at the table.

“Ellen, come eat,” my friend’s father would say. For the longest time, I thought Ellen was a professional nurse, hired to take care of the ailing grandmother. Thus, the equal ‘right’ to sit at the same dining table (Our maids used to makan with us, too, but it is a very uncommon practice.) Only after Ellen had left after many many years that I realized that she was a maid. Or some would say, ‘just’ a maid.

At the other spectrum, I have heard, of an individual who suffers from paralysis once a maid is available.

A simple task of rinsing a cup has become the maid’s ‘duty’.

At the threshold of her apartment, the maid fetches her shoes and parks them in front of her soles before leaving. I am surprised ‘Cinderella’ doesn’t ask the glass slippers to be slipped on.

Watching the maid stoop lower makes me uncomfortable. She is afterall, human too, right? Why is she being treated like a sub-species of the human race? I think some people mistaken the identity of maids with slaves?

These are the people who are not even of royal descendants. They merely receive bigger paychecks which entitled them to hired helps. They are millions of them. I mean I can understand if the Presidents, CEOs and whatnots have no time to arrange their underwears, and even so, it doesn't mean they can be a pompous ass with arrogance and pride the size of the African map.

From the way these people exhibit superiority, I wonder if the next generation will think they are kings and queens, princes and princesses? I wonder by then, if robots would be available, because isn’t it too assuming that maids from the poorer countries will be as affordable in future?

Come on, when the kids grow up, they will be like the millions others, waking up to go to work, earn sufficiently for a house and car and meals? Who will wash their underwears then?

Sure, the parents would still have money to send to them so that they can have slaves, I mean, maids of their own. But that is.. so lack of character. What is the point of existence when you cannot function on your own?

My unorthodox thinking is ominous. I have been warned, threat them nice, and they feed you with urine. And yet, I refuse to give a universal conviction to all of them. I know it’s my weakness and therefore, the only maid you will see in my house will be me.

With a feather duster and French maid uniform. Ohh la la~

Tuesday, April 21, 2009


...There once was a dragon who roamed the earth, hunting and savoring innocent, succulent humans in watery caves. One day, it caught me, a wise wizard.

"Please give me my freedom, and I will give you a magic carpet," I negotiated.

The dragon thought for a while and retorted, "Dragons don't need magic carpets. We have wings to fly."

Unabashed, I tried again. "How about a magic wand?"

The dragon was tempted to receive the wand, but he found a loop hole.

"Dragons have no hands to carry wands!" he spat.


That was what happened at the swimming pool yesterday. Gooly doesn't just splish and splash. He needs reasons to swim, let it be rescuing animals from catastrophic situations, or capturing pretty damsels such as myself *chuckles*. It's all play pretend, of course.

It is at times like this that I marvel at his albeit simple, but nonetheless brilliant logical mind. However, should you dare to challenge his vivid imaginations (i.e dinosaurs don't breathe fire), he would readily retort, "IT"S JUST PRETEND!"

So we gotta play by his rule. He decides when facts are essential and when they are boring.

It is no wonder that this is the same boy who hates writing his ABCs and 123s. They bore him so. Sure, dinosaurs are far more interesting than the alphabet. Much to his chagrin, Mahmee says, "It's essential.' Very often, he is sighted with a 'futiaotiao' look, practising his intelligible ABCs, and mirror-imaged (terbalik) 3.

It frustrates me that this is the same boy who can explain about water molecules but forgets how to spell his surname which consists of three letters.

There is this book, given by a dear friend about inventions. It's his almanac which he consults often. From it, he can give a simple explanation of how a microwave works. But he couldn't care less that 1 +1 = 15. :P (neither do I, actually)

Here's a video which shows the professor side of him. It contains a smug face explaining about how ice melts, a little about gravity and some facts about tarantulas. Towards the end, you can see he got bored (more interested in the bubbles), as though everyone knows about what he reported.

Well, not everyone knows, including his papah and cousins and friends. He might as well be speaking an alien language. And when people here don't exactly speak English, let's not complicate things by using scientific jargon, eh?

Not that I am not proud, mind you. It's just that... they don't exactly test you on science in kindergarten, do they? And Newton's Theory is never part of the pre-school syllabus?

So, Gooly, let's revert to the basics, shall we? Writing neat letters?

Sounds oxymoronic, but I am frustratingly pleased with this trait of his. Frustrated, of course, that he is not optimizing his cerebral capacity. The latter feeling is reserved for his 'yau sing kak' trait (JUST LIKE ME ONLY!!) As beforesaid, he decides when and what he wants to know. I know I have limited options when it comes to enforcing educational subjects to him.

Excuse me while I go bang my head on the wall.

Ka-feh Wong Ji

I am at Koffee Prince, which is a stone's throw away from my apartment.

It offers free wi-fi.

And so I am typing away my prison-ed thoughts. For the past weeks, when they were brewing at the brink of over-spilling, I saved them into my trusty Microsoft WORDS, and thus you will find a few random posts at the bottom.

Koffee Prince is snug and comfortable.

But I can barely afford the RM9 frappe on a daily basis.

What more when Gooly wants a fair share of its scrumptious polka dotted cake?

TOT, where art thou? You promised me a quick service, and I have yet to receive your connection.

TOT, you are cruel, just like your master who fled the country but has an army of RED shirts lingering.

TOT, I hatechew!

That's MY TOT of the day...

Tom and Jerry

The ever famous frenemies.




These words pretty sum up my blurb for the decades-old cartoon.

Gooly owns a Tom and Jerry DVD with over 70 episodes of head crashing, body smashing and brain hemorrhaging. He watches it everyday.

I think many children love the series for its volatile characteristics. Crash! Boom! Bang! The more severe the injury, the greater laughter is drawn.

But if you have a curious and inquisitive child like mine, watching Tom and Jerry is never a simple task.

To my best recollection, a child watches cartoon for its simplicity. It’s equivalent to an adult’s patronage of The Three Stooges. You know, an activity which leaves you cerebrally inactive and a little spit at the corner of your mouth, with some flies hovering around you.

My initial introduction of Tom and Jerry to Gooly is so that I have some time to cook, chat and day dream. Never mind the violence. They are not realistic and moronic, even a preschooler knows that.

But alas, my plan didn’t work.

He needs explanation for all the exaggerated actions; why the bomb didn’t just kill Tom?

He seeks justification; why does Tom hurt Jerry?

He wonders about mortality; why does the ugly duckling want to kill himself?

Have you noticed? The story lines for kids TV programs are often interlaced with complex themes and adult humour? Spongebob Square Pants, Sesame Street are the few children programmes I do so enjoy.

The humour is often subtle, and I wonder how kids grasp the fine nuances.

If there were one shared trait between Gooly and myself, it would be ‘curiosity’. And if curiosity really kills the cat, we would have quite a number of felines littered on our ground.

Tom and Jerry has obviously failed in its mission in providing me solitude. Do you have any cartoons that require minimal cerebral works to recommend? For Gooly, of course. “Kausailei”…. My books and idleness await me.

I am not worthy at times

The person I didn’t marry

.. is expressive. “I love you forever, I love you ever day” are uttered when deemed necessary and excessively

… is quick to apologize. It doesn’t matter who is at fault

… is chivalric. He holds my hand when descending the stairs or when crossing a street, albeit a less busy one

...shares quite an amount of house chores with zero complaints

… appreciates my experimental culinary skill

… says I am pretty whenever I have a change of clothes (pajamas included)

… forgives the moment I offer a hug. Retributions are never part of his plan

... promises a better future for me where a laser eye surgery is in store

… sympathizes along when I grimace in pain or agony

… offers kisses and hugs aplenty

This person I didn’t walk down the aisle with.

I just gave birth to him.

Very often we have been told of unyielding maternal love. Speaking for myself, I think it’s a bit over-rated. Mothers are subjected to pendular mood swings due to their commitment and loyal patronage to the sanitary pads industry. We scream and yell at little children at the flick of annoyance.

Are you as guilty as I am? I am already admitting my slavery condition. My hormones are my master. I am merely a marionette at their whims.

On the other hand, have we quite forgotten a child is capable of loving equally as much, or perhaps, more? Children don’t quite get the credit they deserve.

My Gooly, for example, hugs me even after an undeserving deadly stare from me. He also kisses me even after a hard and yet again, undeserving smack at the bottom. In other words, Gooly loves me, even though evidently I don’t deserve it at times.

Sure, there will come a time when I will have to take a back seat when he finds other prettier maidens.But frankly, I feel I am already blessed to have received his early years of uncompromising love.

Have you thought about how your child loves you of late? Time for a bit of self-reflection..

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Updates n more..

The line is still kaputz. Initially I was told the wireman would come within days upon abandoning my old, untrustworthy, streamyx-evil twin line. Days have turned into weeks. I have since dusted the wardrobe, washed the balconies, colour-coordinated my Paris collection and arranged the canned food in alphabetical order. MIL would have been so proud.

The mood has been some-what sombre this week despite the festive celebration. It's of course due to you-know-what. The red and yellow colours are taboo-ed now. One morning, I donned my yellow (submarine) dress absent-mindedly, and was summoned to change before leaving the house. My newly acquired red dress will remain in the hidden corner of the cabinet for a while, I guess.

During one of those hasty I-phone chats with Sinkar, he actually wondered how the combination of red and yellow attire will shock the locals. Trust a friend to award you such a diabolical death, eh? But I do think Ronald Macdonald is not very well-liked currently for his indecisiveness over the colour red and yellow.

I have celebrated Songkran twice prior to this. Gooly was two during the first round. We were at Jatujak. Last year, we did drive around a bit to get our car washed. Papah agreed to go on the sole proviso that he could ogle at the wet 'coyote dancers'.

This year, nothing. We went about our place, but nobody splashed or held water guns. Gooly was fairly disappointed. He was so looking forward to using his M-16.

*State of emergency
We were at Rama 2 Central Mall when we received a call from a concerned friend, asking about the situation. It seemed CNN had broad casted the news ahead of us. We looked around and concluded that people were either oblivious of the danger amounting or they couldn't care less. We were supposed to linger a while longer so we could go to the park opposite once the sun wasn't as commanding. But decided against it. We got home and started to stay-glued to the news.

While in the car, Papah announced that we had to cancel our stay at the 5 star hotel he DIDN'T book. It seemed he had planned a imaginery surprise. I played along and lamented, "What a waste.." We sure do have the weirdest sense of humour.

This is the third time we experienced the effects of Thailand's political turmoils. Yes, I do get apprehensive, to say the least, mainly because we have a child with us. Papah, over-charged with testosterone stayed up a bit to watch the news, hoping for some LIVE bombing action. MEN! *roll eyes*

Yesterday, people were more relaxed and by evening, many thronged the pool for a splashing good time. I was chatting with Pinpin's mom when suddenly..


..gunshots were heard. Or were they explosions? We couldn't be sure. But my eyes caught a few others, and we fell silent for a moment, all deciding weather to flee or to stay put. I could sense the fear in the eyes of the older children. The younger ones got excited.. Neh, like the Gooly who went, "Got fireworks ah?"

To date, I don't know what happened but my heart did miss a beat at the loud bangs.

*Harry Potter 7
On a lighter note, I re-read HP7 and love it! The first perusal was when I was in Melbourne. Note that I said, perusal.. cause I got lost in the plot. And I remember that it got a bit draggy. The stage of internet-less has prompted me to be a book worm, in which I once was. I got the book at a 90% discount, meaning at a ridiculous price of RM5.90. The cover is tattered and worn, but it doesn't irk me at all.

I finished the book with a 'kit terng' feeling. The surfeit of HP will most likely never happen to a fan like me.

It's interesting to note that Rowling had intended Dumbledore to be gay. Hmm..?

So what's up with you people? Still jubilant about the lack of posts from yours truly? Bah!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

8, 9, 10 PIKCHA!

I must remember he is getting heavy~ Can't sit too long on my lap. Can't carry him no more. But I will still hold his hand. Let's walk together, son.

I sometimes forget that he enjoys simple things like an apple. And that he has a faint dimple on his right cheek. His eyes shine when he smiles, laughs and cries. They glisten and I writhe with envy.

He gets on my nerves when he jiggles, wriggles and fiddles at the wrong time or at the wrong place. But he tickles my funny bones too when I see the pikchas.

Wednesdays are good for pikchas.

Uha, cos I said so.


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