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Omg I haven’t blogged in like forever ! I am not going to make excuses or anything other than this one teeny weeny thing . My life is a whirlwind. Anyhoo , I am here now and I have a … Continue reading
Singapore. Why do I love this place so much ?
The larger than life feeling I get when I am standing by the side of the road waiting for the bus ? The architecture , the design ? The people who don’t seem to know any other way than dressing to kill ? IKEA ??
Well all of that surely but what about the food ? Their food seems to have a solid grip on my heart .
Having kaya toast and milk tea the first thing when we landed , we moved on to all types of noodles and rice steamed in broth served with their yummy sauces , drinking only root beer if we could help it. We ended our trip with the ever famous chillie crab with fried buns and later for nostalgia, milk tea and kaya . Again.
So I am home at my mother’s place with my mother and brother for the weekend.
My sister has gone away with her husband and the baby for a while.
I miss her. This house is big and airy and a wonderful place to unwind. If she was here we’d be chatting constantly about this and that while she goes about her business.
Since she is not here, I decided it would be fun if I went through her stuff! Gasp ! Nooo Sachi , why would you dooo that !?! Oh well. She has pretty stuff OK?
In any case, when I am here, I browse through my mother’s old Talbot’s or her vintage button collection. It’s very therapeutic . My sister also has a pretty collection of threads and fabrics I love looking at.
Today when I started browsing aimlessly through some boxes full of pretty colored thread, I wasn’t expecting to find a treasure box full of hand made jewelry she seems to have abandoned, but that’s exactly what I found. She crochets a lot and all of these are made with crocheted thread and pretty beads.
Imagine my happiness.
I picked out my favorites to show you guys.
I am sensitive person. I take everything personally.
And my life’s mission is to not offend anyone, because you see, it’s a complex. I have to make everyone like me. Not unlike Monica, no. ( And for all the people who dislike me, perhaps I am not trying hard enough! Oh blah. )
But stranger are the people who are so bold and ballsy that they say whatever they like and offend people when it’s not even due, and then get all teary and sensitive the moment they feel a jab. When a jab was not even intended. Sheesh.
That awkward moment when you can’t even say something completely innocent to a friend because last time you did, boy weren’t they pissed. And now you wonder why you are friends in the first place. Were they only being nice to you? Sheeeesh.
Are they such strangers that you can’t be yourself perhaps? Oh god were you making a fool of yourself by being yourself?? Were they only humoring you !?! Were they judging you behind closed doors? Face. Palm.
Oh right. This is me, taking everything personally. Ta !
So my neighbor who lives in the house opposite side of the lane from us is pretty nice. She has a bunch of nice dogs and she lets me pet them through the fence, and every time Kadupul blooms, she gives me a flower. We’ll call her family The Es.
The ones I can’t stand, live next door to The Es. Let’s call them The Ts. They are the ones making a trip around the house , even though their front door faces away from us towards the main road, to stand on their porch and peer through the trees above their garden wall, every time, we have a visitor. Even if it’s my father. The weirdest thing is, they don’t leave until the visitors leave. If the visitors are here to stay for a while, they make routine trips round the house to peer at ours. What. The. Hell.
We’ve been here almost two years and you know what. Their behavior is pissing me off. But let’s not look at the fact that I am a coward and I will never confront them about it.
When my mother was with us here, she’d sit by the window in the living room, and I’d open our front doors and sit on the steps while I DIYed. We had a pretty good time doing this, chatting and drinking tea and my mother trying to teach me to sew. And The Ts could be seen through the trees over the garden wall, standing, listening to our conversations. And pretending to prune their damn trees.
Sometimes my father sends me a massive amount of vegetables, or fruits, or dried fish. I think it has something to do with him panicking every once a month or so wondering if I know how to shop for my groceries. Dad, not to worry, I learned from the best. You pay whatever the price asked, and even if you can buy the same thing cheaper, you don’t because, well, you don’t think it’s necessary. I’ve got it OK.
So what I do when my dad sends me an amount of food me and my husband alone can’t finish before they go bad , is to pack them in parcels and hand them out to our neighbors.
The Ts get visited last because they live at the very end of the lane.
And you know what they do while I knock on my neighbors doors? They stand in their corner in the garden half hidden, watching me. Before I knock on theirs, they retreat into the house and come back out as if omg it’s you ! How are you ! ugh. You know Mr and Mrs T, I see you. OK? I know what you are doing. STOP IT.
A couple of weeks ago, I get this massive Jack fruit and I made my trips to the neighboring houses.
I knock on a couple of doors, and watch from the corner of my right eye as Mr T takes his place in the corner in his garden. And for whatever reason, he isn’t quick enough to retreat inside his house before I knock on his gate. So he’s startled when I do, and now knowing he’s caught red handed, he’s ashamed to come to the gate so I have to stand there for a few more seconds before I knock again. Uh hum, erm, heh heh, says he while he approaches me from his corner on the porch. I smile at him my widest smile, look back at where he was standing, look back at our house, look back at him knowingly and hand him the bag of Jack fruit and walk away.
I think, I’ve got it figured out. Next time he or his wife does this, I’ll try and catch their eye through the trees and wave perhaps ! Hello Mr and Mrs T ! Lovely day to snoop on your neighbors eh?
I can never replace anything in a jar, be it sugar, milk powder or spices, unless the jar is completely empty. If there’s only enough sugar for one cup of tea but I am making tea for five, I am not going to fill the jar with new sugar unless I’ve taken the last bit out.
Imagine how the sugar at the bottom of the jar would feel, if you suddenly poured new sugar on it and it was waiting for it’s turn to go in the tea and now it can’t for another month and a half. Argh. So sad.
If I am making toasties, and I make a batch of sandwiches to go in the toaster, the first ones made have to be the first ones in. Just because you are on top of the batch of sandwiches, doesn’t mean you get to go first !
When I am making pancakes, I make a stack of them, and Darling happens to walk by and takes one from the top, my mind snaps in two.
Does it happen to you?
Why am I the world’s biggest sucker ?!?!
Yup. That’s the question I am trying to answer these days.
I am the girl in fifth grade who refused to stay for after school activities because my ‘best friend’ said I didn’t need to. All these years later, I still find it hard to believe she was so malicious.
But zoom away from childhood, I still haven’t been able to not be a sucker.
You know the beggars in Colombo know I am the biggest sucker too? They walk up to my window in the car and I crumble. I see this beggar almost every day walking without his stick, no limp, but he stands there trembling and I can’t help myself. I give him my last 20.
About a month ago, an old lady in her nightdress with a massive suitcase , a bundle of clothes and a picture frame sat in our lane. I took her in. I shouldn’t have but I did. Boy, the drama !
Last week, I was home alone and someone rang our bell. There was a man peering through the bamboo bars in our gate. He wore white long sleeves and blue plants , had yellow tinted glasses with thick nerd frames and said “theruwansaranai”. Spoke in English, said he’s had to beg money pay his child’s school fees. I looked in my purse there was nothing but a thousand. So I gave him that . Darling was not happy. He could come back. He could be a rapist , a thief, a killer, who knows ! I really shouldn’t have. I know.
Then the next day, the guy who usually picks our coconuts came by and asked for a thousand rupees. I had to say no. Said he couldn’t pay his rent. I gave him a five hundred after consulting my husband but what irked me was the fact that even after I told him that’s all I had , he hung around pleading, as if knowing if he pestered enough, I’d give more. He promised to bring in coconuts, said he was going to pick jackfruit from a tree nearby and said he’ll keep bringing things like that until he paid off the five hundred. I haven’t seen him since.
I haven’t answered my own question yet but I guess, recognising the problem is the first step, so here we are. Enjoy the pics ! ( The pictures have nothing to do with this post ! )