Rushing Around

In a few hours, I am off to the UK for a week for work, then on to Malaysia with H and the kids for a week's holiday.

And in preparing for the week away from home and the fortnight away from work, it has been a mad, mad day today. Work (our week starts on Sunday, with Friday and Saturday being the weekend) was just an endless series of meetings where discussions went round and round, never reaching a conclusion. Planning and delegating work for the next fortnight when I will be away is always unsettling because I am never sure if things will go according to the way I planned them.

On the home front, equally chaotic. Getting things organised for the rest of the family for the week that I will be away - clothes ironed and put away; getting school supplies ready; meals prepared in advance...

Packing for two trips and two climates - I am back at home only for a couple of hours between trips, so need to ensure everything is arranged for the Malaysia holiday beforehand.

In between the running around, I am stealing a few moments to sit here and write.

These pictures calm me. They remind me of peaceful walks along the beach.

Now, on with the packing...

Learning to Cook

I have always been fascinated with food. Yes, I love eating, but that's not all that interests me about food. I like to find out where food comes from, how it is made, and how I could recreate a recipe, or use a food product to create something of my own in the kitchen. I could spend hours browsing through food blogs and recipe sites or reading cookbooks. There is nearly always a cookbook on my bedside table.

I started cooking when I was maybe eight or nine. When I say cooking, I mean of course trying out simple recipes from children's cookbooks.

This was the first cookbook my sisters and I owned.



We got it when I was about eight and I still have it. It is full of fun, easy to make recipes and colourful step by step illustrations. The first recipe we tried from it was this: Coconut Ice.

I remember having made this a few times. And particularly remember how we needed to vigorously stir the pan of sugar, milk and coconut mixture to stop it from burning. I remember how the sugary coconut stuck to the sides of the pan and hardened, making washing up later a nightmare.

I haven't made Coconut Ice since then, but today I helped Em make it. Rather than have a white and pink layer, we decided to go for all-pink squares.

A concoction of sugar, milk and coconut spells disaster health-wise, and takes me further and further away from my weight loss plans (it has remained only a plan - can't seem to actually get started on it!). But what the hell - the sweet, chewy squares were just so good.

I like the fact that Em is able to learn to cook using the same book I used when I was learning. Em says this is what she wants to try next: Knicker-bocker Glory. I always used to think it was such a funny name, but had never made it. Basically it is fruit, cream, ice cream and jelly layered into tall glasses. Another not so heart-friendly recipe!

Reminiscing through Photos

I spent many happy hours this morning, travelling back in time. Sitting surrounded by old photo albums. Reminiscing childhood. And awkward adolescence.

Pictures of grandparents, and my great grandmother, all of whom now long gone.

My sister and I, always dressed in identical clothes; our hair adorned in ribbon bows; my hair in a curly mess; hers, dead straight.

Each birthday identical: standing at a low coffee table, knife in hand poised to cut through the iced cake in front, surrounded by sisters, cousins and friends.

Images from school. White uniforms, green ties. Laughing friends.

Family holidays.

Numerous photos of me sleeping with a book in hand.

Looking back at how time has changed me.

Using the photos to tell my children stories of my life and of family ties.

Learning to Juggle

These are photos from some time ago, when we spent an afternoon on the beach meeting up with friends. An afternoon spent in good company, eating good food. Em and Hero had a great time digging into the sand to their hearts' content. H took them rowing in a little boat; then they were back on the beach making sandcastles and trying to catch the waves that lap onto the shore.

I love days like these. Filled with laughter. And so much love. When Em and Hero are the best of friends. When parenting seems effortless.

And then there are those other days. When nothing seems to go right. Heated words and tearful complaints. Cranky children. Unreasonable demands. The rushing around getting the zillion things packed for school (where do all the erasers and pencils disappear when you need them?!), the never ending piles of laundry to be sorted and ironed, the madness of juggling work and home and motherhood and marriage and me while trying to stay sane.

On those days, I have no positive energy. Such days are draining; completely exhausting. At the end of the day I try to analyse what went wrong. What it was that triggered the chaos. What I could have done to handle things better. But those days keep recurring.

How do you juggle all the balls and not have them all crashing down on your head?

Picking Jamburol

When I was a child, I remember my grandmother nurturing a small plant in the backyard, which she had grown from seed. I remember that the plant was slow to grow, and didn't bear any flowers or fruit for years. Yet, we were told that it was a special plant that we were not allowed to pick leaves from or pull branches off from. It was a jamburol plant - also called water apple or wax apple.

I was in my teens before the plant bore any fruit. And when it did, there was only one single pale green, bell shaped fruit, which we cut up into equal portions to share among the household. We waited another year before the plant produced more fruit.

Years later, my mother started another jamburol plant from seed. It grows now at the entrance to their house, providing much needed shade. The tree has been bearing fruit for a few years now, but it is still young, and does not produce a heavy yield.

The flowers are white, with a multitude of pale yellow stamens.

Unlike the ones that my grandmother grew, the fruit in this tree are deep pink and fairly small.

But they are juicy and sweet, with a high water content, making it refreshing to taste.

Some fruits contain a large soft seed in the cotton-candy like centre. I always felt that those are the lucky ones, and that finding the seed means that my wishes for that day would come true :)

It is probably time now for me to start a jamburol plant from seed, and watch it grow, waiting for fruit. I think I'll go for deep red.

Morning Walk

Under the shade of this tree

Row after row of gravestones

Aged, moss covered, yet still standing
All that remains of fallen heroes

And kings and queens of yesteryear.

The historic building in the background

With its traditional water well in the courtyard

A landmark. A celebrated monument.

Surrounded by lush greenery

And these fragrant pink blooms

Loyal Messengers

Watching pigeons sitting atop a tree
Quiet, observant, waiting.

Intelligent, thinking birds,

They swoop down to the ground.

Watching children feed pigeons

Grains of lentils and rice.

Watching the small grey birds
Take faltering steps towards the offering

The green gloss on their necks
Glimmering in the bright morning light.

The reddish orange eyes

Cautious. Questioning. Curious.

Watching scores of grey bodies

Jostle for food.

Watching children now chase pigeons
Their faces full of glee.

With whoops of joy and happy giggles

They run through the feeding birds.

The pigeons take flight in unison
Like a fountain springing forth.

Colour Week: Brown

BROWN: Earth, order, dependable, stable, grounded. The colour makes me feel comfortable and warm.

My mum hates it that I wear so much brown. If she had her way, I would be probably dressed mostly in yellow!

I like dangly earrings.

Shells that whisper secrets of the seas.

I'm not a coffee drinker. But I thought the layers in this latte looked good enough ... for a photo!

An old door handle.

The brown bear hanging onto the wall light in the kids' room.

Hero's beloved Trudi taking a rest on Em's bed.

Who says weeds can't be pretty?

I love the textures of tree trunks and branches.

Their grooves and their patterns.

Fallen brown leaves.

Colour Week: White

WHITE: The colour of innocence, purity, truth and peace.

The colour of waterfalls.

And the wake of a speedboat on the blue, blue ocean.

The colour of this new apartment block next to my home.

Paperclips on my desk at work.

Egg whites - on the way to be made into meringue - clinging to the beater.

A white crab on a white sandy beach. The perfect camouflage.

The soft prickles of this cactus.

These tiny white flowers, on a tree in the front yard.

White frangipani/temple flowers. I remember how my grandmother used to line all the entrances to the house with these flowers in the evenings, making their fragrance drift into every room.

White periwinkles. So plain, yet, so pretty.