Laundry in batches

I’ve been reduced to doing the laundry in batches thanks to the rain.

That’s a sentence I never thought I’d use. I cook in batches when I have a big menu but laundry in batches? For only two people?

I wanted to use ‘piles’ but even that is not sufficient to describe it. It really is in batches.

We have limited drying space when it’s raining. We have that…er…however you call it. The portable clothes line thingy. One that you fold out when you need ‘em and fold back when you’re done? Yeah. That. Yaknowwhatimean!

So, yeah. I’ve been doing laundry in batches. Not only do they get sorted out the usual way, they now have to be sorted out according to the order the material would dry so that I can peel them off the line in less than an hour, so that I can hang out the next cycle, so that I have something to wear the next day, so that I’m not running around naked, so that I save the general human population the trauma of seeing me running around naked, so that future generation have a chance, so that…maybe I should stop? You get the pick-chuh?

Times like this makes me wish we do have a dryer. I console myself the usual way: harden up, stop complaining and be grateful that you have a washing machine! A washing machine to do the washing and spin cycle for me while I potter about organizing the rest of the house for the week.

However did those folks do it when they had to hand-laundry everything, wring every single drop of water out of the fabric and hang them out to dry later?

I shudder.

I then proceed to hug my washing machine.

Kbai.

Credit: Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

The Reason We Don’t Have Agony Uncles

Or, The Reason Why Thee Shalt Not Include Anything Remotely Automotive/Mechanical When Asking for Advice From Men.

(Click on the image to enlarge)

We Interrupt This Blogpostgram to Bring You Special News…

After Jógvan’s tour around the world for Vienna (and graciously stopping by to visit us) now it’s Olaf’s turn.

O-la-la(f)! Check him out, he’s rocking it with his Nike goggle.

Olaf is currently on his world tour for Anna who is diagnosed with Ewing Sarcoma.

If you’re interested in hosting Olaf, drop a line at The Viking Way and let Shinta or Han know that you’d love for Olaf to pop in and visit!

Haitian Relief: We Can Make Do Without Cappuccinos This Week.

 

Living things have been doing just that for a long, long time. Through every kind of disaster and setback and catastrophe. We are survivors.

Robert Fulghum

MSF provides aid in nearly 60 countries to people whose survival is threatened by violence, neglect, or catastrophe, primarily due to armed conflict, epidemics, malnutrition, exclusion from health care or natural disasters.

MSF’s work is based on the humanitarian principles of medical ethics and impartiality. The organization is committed to bringing quality medical care to people caught in crisis regardless of race, religion, or political affiliation.

MSF operates independently of any political, military, or religious agendas. [Source: MSF’s About Us]

I thought we should take a moment to reassess our life today.

As many of us know by now, Haiti was hit by a level 7 earthquake last Tuesday and the damage is catastrophic.

So while our days were plagued with whether we want to wake up to go to work or not, whether we should be eating sushi for lunch…or a Subway sandwich, these people in Haiti are faced with a much larger dilemma. Somewhere along the lines of are my family members still alive? Will we be able to rebuild our lives again?

Suddenly worrying about our cafe latte, our daily dose of chocolates and worrying if this skirt makes our butt looks big seems very selfish and trivial.

So please give if you can. After reworking my budget for the week, I figure I won’t die without my weekly chocolates and sushi and I could afford to donate $10.00 today. $10 is not much. $10 I can spend in a day. If you can give any amount, more or lesser than that doesn’t matter, but bit by bit our contributions can mean a lot.

I personally decided to give to MSF. I feel strongly about the work and contributions of these selfless people, trying to make this world a better place. I couldn’t have done what they are doing, so I guess I’m making up for my shortcomings in superhero abilities.

Also, stop by at The Pioneer Woman’s because she is giving away 2 x $500 money to a charity that you choose if your comment is chosen. Even if you didn’t win your comment is worth it because for every comment received PDub will donate 10 cents to Haitian recovery efforts.

So brethren…how are you going to live your life today?

We is Have a Jim’s Ball.

Know what that is? That big blob of green roundness next to that pot?

That is a gym ball. In case you don’t believe me, here’s the proof:

See, even York, whoever that person is, confirms it’s a gym ball. You know, in case you haven’t figured that out yet. Thou shalt always believe York.

This is how you’re supposed to use the gym ball for:

Yes. All sorts of weird movement. But we’re not going to attempt that today. No sirree! And why not? I’ll let her explain it to you:

Eloquently and succinctly put, my dear.

In other words, we don’t lean on anyone’s ball around this joint. No sirree! We’re way to cool for that. Hmpf!

This is Hero. That is a hand pump. That is a deflated gym ball.

ThisisHerotryingtoinflateadeflatedgymballwithahandpump.

I know. I sometimes am reduced to tears because of my writing

skillz. 

I’m cool like that.

Gosh, it’s hard to be this talented!

Gym balls provides hours of fun for young and old not quite spring chickens alike. It gave us female (namely me and their mama) some quality time sipping wines and eating chocolates and gossip exchanging delightful domestic snippets about cooking and the merits of various home cleaning products.

But of course! All women reading this relates, no?

 

Mainly it provides fun for the male species because we female are like, way to cool and glamorous for that. Like, totally.

Except for this female. But we forgive her. She’s still young and have not the vanity and self-consciousness that plagues adult females.

Besides, check her out. Girlfriend is totally rocking the game. Reprezenting!

Then everyone went home after Christmas. But the ball stays. The ball always stays.

The man and his ball. Ha ha! Short of drawing smiley face on the ball.

Ball improves relationship. Note the singularisation, not the testicularisation.

It has provide us with tools of entertainment.

For example, this: staying on the ball is all about balance!

 

 

 

 

 

It’s hilarious, I tell you.

My grave, serious, macho Hero likes to pull this stunt whenever I’m around. Because he loves it when I fall into heaps and laugh my farts out.

Did you know that laughing your fart out is beneficial for general wellbeing?

No?

Now you do.

I can’t believe blogging fulfils my calling and desire to impart wisdom to this ignorant world at large.

Friends, friends, all kinds of friends…

Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics

#1: Old friends…

A friend from college that I haven’t seen for years is coming over for a visit and dinner tonight. I’m torn between feeling excited and feeling apprehensive.

Excited, because he is someone from my past…a symbolic reassurance that my past did exist and is back as a reminder for me in this new country. Although we are not of the same crowd, we did hung out in the same crowd back in college days. I don’t know how to better explain this.

Apprehensive because the last time we saw each other, we were sort of torn apart by loyalty to different fractions. We were still friendly, but uneasily. As if being friends with each other will offend our own fraction. Have we put that past us, now that we’re far away from that maddening crowd? (Hey! Look who has been reading her literature! )

I’m also worried that we both have changed since we last saw each other…will this be a night of easy conversations, fun flashback and laughter? Or will it be a night of awkward silence and forced conversations?

Already we can ‘see’ the changes with each other. We are more subdued, for example. Our text messages to each other sounds very polite, very adult. Nothing like the outrageous, “HAHAHA CHECK THIS F*CKING THING OUT!” messages we exchange back in college. We’ve admitted to each other we’ve changed since we last saw each other. He’s not as crazy as he used to be back then. I’m not as aggressive and cocky as I used to be. He’s a bit more laidback, subdued and reflective. I’ve turned into mother hen intent on feeding everyone within a kilometer radius of me. Apparently neither of us drinks and club now, we laughed at that revelations.

In a nutshell, I’m so excited to see him again and to introduce Hero to someone from my past…at the same time I’m worried that my memory of the past does not reconcile with the fact of the present.

 

Friendless, adj. Having no favours to bestow. Destitute of fortune. Addicted to utterance of truth and common sense. Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary.

 

#2 Girlfriends with sense of humour.

Getting munchies with a couple of girlfriends after work yesterday. The conversation turns to the development of one of the girl’s love interest.

Me: So, how’s that going for you so far?

Girlfriend A: Yeaaaaahhh, I’m not sure though…I’m not sure whether I want to find out if he’s a tool or not, you know? Like, he seems nice enough, great funny guy but how do I know it’s a true thing, not just an act he puts up in the first few dates? For all I know, he could be a tool.

Girlfriend B: *with very easy, debonair air* Honey, is he interested in me?

Me: *jawdrop* Holly Molly, that’s highly inappropriate! (what the HECK is she doing?)

Girlfriend A: *visibly shocked* Uh, I’m…I don’t know, why?

Girlfriend B: Cos I didn’t get that gist that he’s interested in me in any way, shape or form.

Me: *further jaw drop, now with the addition of tongue roll*

Girlfriend A: Uhm…I don’t know what to say to that. I’m…sorry, I guess? *look at me for enlightenment. None coming dear, no jaw dropping tongue roller can provide enlightenment to anyone!*

Girlfriend B: Then, darling, he’s NOT a tool. Cos if he was, he’d be attracted to me while pursuing you at the same time. I’m the Universal Tool Magnet, I attract tools of all shapes and sizes…and age. So, you’re on good grounds, sistah!

I love her. Seriously.

 

Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life. Mark Twain

 

[GIF credits: GraphicFreebies.com]

Things I may say I dislike…but secretly love. ;)

#1: No space in bed.

I’m not kidding when I say that between my pinkie and the floor, is only a space of 1mm.

Hero likes to sleep close. VERY CLOSE. Everytime I inch away to get some space for myself, he inches even closer to get closer to me. And before you go “awwww, how cute is that?”, I have to tell you that Hero moves in his sleep and I don’t.

I think I’m the only woman in this world who wakes up blue and black AND can tell you with absolute honesty that no, I’m not a victim of domestic abuse. Rather, I’m a victim of domestic intimacy. I’ve grown used to being poked in the ribs by Hero’s elbow, or being kicked in the knee by his knee.

But…

…when Hero’s is not around and I get all the bed space to myself…I can’t sleep. It should feel glorious…and it does when you’re not going to bed. I love the space when I’m reading in bed. I love it when I’m eating chocolates while watching dvd. But when it’s time to sleep, I feel panic. I want the familiar pressure on my back, knowing that my back is safe because anything would have to go through him first before through me. And I miss the security.

So I might not have enough space on the bed for myself, but that’s ok. I don’t need space because I don’t move in my sleep (former roommates will corroborate this fact). I don’t care if I only have a hairline distance between me and the floor.

Sometimes, love sacrifices.

#2: Doggie breaths.

The dog. She has really, really bad doggie breaths. Really bad. I feed her excellent, proper food as if I’m a mother and she is a proper daughter but that does not make up for almost 11 years prior being fed ‘whatever goes’ by a man. Everytime she comes near to give me a doggie’s kiss, my heart scream.

YET…

…it is one of the things I look forward to everytime I come home. I dream of her doggie’s kiss and doggie’s breath. I look forward to her being excited to see her Mama home. I look forward to her inching closer and wanting to lick my face.

Now, if only we could eliminate that horrid doggie breaths.

#3: Studying

No one loves studying, obviously! All that groveling, and all that stress, all that memorizing… I was an A student in school but I was bored and restless. I couldn’t care much about the stuffs I was supposed to be learning and was eager to discard things that doesn’t have anything to do with my future dream of being in business. I had sufficient interest in chemistry because it involved precise quantities of precise elements, so reading Chemistry became a hobby. Other than that, everything else besides Math was huge bore to me. I did languages and History easily because I grew up surrounded by it, but a huge amount of my time was invested doing Math and nothing else. It was the only subject I studied with glee.

BUT

…I can safely say I dislike studying LESS since I went to Uni. Mainly because in university, it was my choice to do business. It was then my choice which subjects I wanted to do and though I still dislike the stress part of it, I am actually, really, truly learning. If I had it my way, I’d have gone to university straight instead of going through school.

The Mad Penguin seriously thing the academic system should change to encourage exploration instead of learning by stupid rote!

#4: Winter

A Winter’s Day by Marmota (flickr)

Growing up in a tropical country that has a constant 30+ degrees temperature (Celcius), it was a rude shock to me to experience temperature any less than that. Queensland winter is very mild compared to other places in this world, but even then I don’t like it. The constant cold, the short sunshine…it brings out the worst in me. And I don’t think it’s fair to let me go through this cold without snow to make up for it.

HOWEVER…

…it is the only season of the year when you can get away with wearing skinny jeans, boots, different coloured scarves, jackets…if there is one thing that perks me up in winter, it’s dressing up for winter. Plus, it is the only season where we can crank up the fireplace, and snuggle in front of it playing Monopoly and drinking hot chocolates.

Mmm…winter. Despite everything, it is the most fashionable and most romantic season of the year. Drats, and I was so prepared to hate you, winter.

#5: Changing bedsheets

I love housework but I despised doing the bedsheets. I despised taking it off, washing it, figuring out the logistics of where and how to hang it on the clotheslines because Murphy Law dictates that all clothesline I’ve ever own or encountered shall be insufficient for the length and breadth of a bedsheet. Then I loath digging through the many sheets trying to match quilt covers and pillow covers that have been haphazardly thrown (usually by me) and therefore unmatched. And then I despise battling with corners, and stretching them, and sometimes have to lift heavy mattresses to tuck the sheets under…

…BUT, I love the look of the bedroom with fresh, crisps, nice smelling, and smooth sheets.

Such is my existence.

Now…

It’s your turn. Do you have anything that you say and feel you dislike, but somehow in your own weird way…actually like?

Feel free to blog about it, or say it in comments. Feel free to list one, or two, or hundreds…and I’ll run the links to your post!

If only to make me feel better about secretly loving the things I say I dislike when I read I’m not the only insane one…

 

And the people that shared: Shinta from The Viking Way, aka Mrs. Vid Neyst (sorry, no idea how to type the symbol thingy) aka SuperWoman, aka That Woman Who Crazily Went Off To Live in Minus 30 Degrees For Love…who totally gets my thing about winter. Rachel and her gym issue (we’ve all been there!) TerraShield, who hates and love her work. Oh, we get you sister. Genesis from ExpatMom, aka SuperMom aka Sometimes Nutcase aka They Should Make Her Blood Into Energy Drink with her 5 list. I don’t know where she find the time to even come up with 5, she’s a robot. Yup. That’s the only possible explanation.

Holidays…really?

Over the past two weeks, I have attempted to blog about my Christmas but everytime I try, I get severely overwhelmed.

It was not that I had a horrible Christmas. In fact, I had a GREAT, ROARING, STUPENDOUSLY AMAZING Christmas. I woke up Christmas morning buzzing with excitement. I couldn’t sleep the whole night. It was the FIRST TIME in my life that I know Christmas morning will not be full of fighting words, constant yelling and all-day sulking between two warring parents who each wants the family to spend Christmas with THEIR respective sides of the family.

Yeah, can you tell my Christmases throughout my growing years have not been that nice?

Thankfully Hero and I will never have that argument seeing that we both would rather spend Christmas with us rather than with other people. Regardless, our Christmas was so noisy this year and full of activities that when the last relative and friends left, we were so tired we spent the 28^th of December just sleeping. Waking up long enough eat dinner. I didn’t even cook properly until last night because we had the whole Christmas/New Year leftovers to finish.

Hero and I are sociable, BUT both of us can’t stand constant noise and constant streaming of people. I think it is largely due to us making the house our complete sanctuary and we do feel put off when people (especially uninvited ones) keep coming. And there are so many throughout the holiday period that next year I’ll seriously considering hiring bouncers. Ugh.

On New Year’s Day especially, it nearly pisses me off. Hero and I declined invitations to several parties and bbq because we wanted peace for our New Year. Did that happened? As if! Partygoers apparently noticed our absence and missed us…and after the party came over to say hello to us. We were like, wtf…the reason we didn’t attend was because we didn’t want to see anyone!

Now, we can’t be rude and turn them away despite everyone being rude and turn up unannounced, uninvited, unwanted, etc. Besides, we had leftovers. Plenty of it. So we ended up hosting people from three different parties over. It was like an after-party house and I was so, so, so, so, so pissed off about my peaceful New Year being ruined.

By almost 3pm I whispered to Hero that if they don’t leave, I’m going to pull the plug on the partying and tell everyone to frickin go home already. However, I did not have to make good my threat because the partygoers went home by themselves about 5 minutes after I said that! I swear, no one heard what I said because I said it in the room and Hero didn’t tell anyone. However, I did noticed by now that there have been constant phone calls and constant “yeah, I’ll be home soon, honey!”, “Chill Baby, I’m at Hero’s…Gloria’s here so we’re all behaving!”

I thought this was the end of our crazy party house…but noooo…

This week and the next, we have friends arriving from Perth, Adelaide and Sydney. Needless to say, even though I love those friends I’m a bit pissed off at my lack of peace at the moment…

…so excuse me while I sit on that corner and rock myself to sleep…everybody loves me, nobody hates me, everybody loves me, think butterflies, think chocolates…think…

Tweet, tweet!

Don’t you hate it when uptight, hypocrite moralist blare their trumpets?

Or maybe that’s just my twisted mind.

A mother has been slammed for Tweeting about her drowned son.

When I first read the headlines, I myself was appalled. Typical of attention grabbing, sensationalist headlines, it reads: “Mother under fire for tweeting while son dies”.

Goodness me! I thought. Rather than Tweeting shouldn’t she be pulling her son out of the water?

As I read the news, it was revealed that the mother tweeted for prayers from her 5000 strong followers, while her son was being saved by paramedics. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that when paramedics are attending to someone, you shouldn’t be interfering, yes?

"Please pray like never before, my 2 yr old fell in the pool," Mrs Ross wrote at 6.12pm local time.

And the comment to that tweet:

"The first I thought when I saw the tweet was that it was very sad," Ms McGraw was quoted by the Daily Mail as saying.

"But then I thought, ‘Who would tweet that her son just drowned?’ I couldn’t believe it."

Uhm, let’s backtrack. She didn’t mentioned her son drowning, not directly anyway. She said he fell into the pool, and to pray for him. To me, that’s PG rated. This mother was distraught enough to ask 5000 people to pray, hoping that the power of 5000 could sway the decision of The Almighty. Who knows? Our hopes works in strange ways.

Was it insensitive of her to be tweeting while her son lay within inches of death (or maybe already are)? Maybe, but hey, welcome to Twitter!

Twitter annoys me more than Facebook, for obvious reason. One of my close classmates is an avid Tweet and he feels compelled to announce to the world minutiae detail of his life. Down to “it’s cold out today, but class will be warm. Reckon I should just wear wool?”

Egad capital E.

One tweet sounds, “Uh oh, Penguin just walked into class w/ murder on her face. If y’all don’t hear 4m me soon it means I’ve run out of V or chocs & she’s eaten me for lunch”

I wasn’t aware I was walking around with murder on my face until I read that tweet. Actually, it was more of a surprise at the concern my close study friends were paying to me that particular day, until I was agitated enough to ask them what’s up their derriere. I may be nicknamed Penguin but I do not appreciate being stared at like a zoo animal.

Then they mentioned the tweet, which was why they were being cautious around me, gauging my mood. Because as far as anyone who knows me already would know, I’m not a very good penguin once I’m angry!

At least I’m happy people know how to handle my anger, and now all his 30+ followers knows too.

Actually, I should thank him for the endless supplies of V and chocolates given to me for free throughout the semester. One only need to wave either one, or both of those to get my attention and curry my favours!

Ok. So maybe it’s a good thing after all.

Geez, am I talking from both sides of my face? Hmm…

The Boatman and The Sea

For AJ, to remind him that his talent calls for his boat to be row very soon. And as a reminder to the rest of us who have yet to reach our shore, to give us strength when we sometimes tire of rowing. May we continue to be given strength despite the strong waves!

 

Row, row, row your boat, Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream.

Comfort is a boat on calm waters. The boat doesn’t rock, and we don’t make it. We refuse to take the oars and row because that will ripple the waters, which in turn rocks the boat and in turn lead the boat ashore.

That’s risky.

How do we know that we won’t tip the boat, and drown? How do we know that the shore is better than being in this boat?

The only way we know, is if we do it.

There are two primary choices in life; to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them.  (Denis Waitley)

What else can the boatman do? Should he wait until his youth pass by him, and take his energy with it? Does he wait for the wind to guide his boat, the waves to move it? How can he be sure that he likes where the wind and waves take him? He has the choice of going forward with his own oars—the tools already given to him—or ignore these tools and give up to the elements. The direction of that boat depends on his choice alone.

To control his path, or to settle?

Rowing could be hard at first—it takes energy. The rough wave can strike fear in even the bravest of men. The shore may hold unknown dangers.

Could, can, may. But “is”? Find out!

If you believe it will work out,  you’ll see opportunities.
If you believe it won’t,  you’ll see obstacles. (Dr. Wayne Dyer)

Fear of the unknown stops us from moving forward. But we forget Everyday is Unknown. We can plan, only God or the larger Being decides. If we can survive Everyday, we can survive Unknown for we live it throughout our lives. The difference with Everyday and Unknown is the clarity of it: Everyday is subtle while Unknown is glaring.

Just trust yourself,
then you will know how to live. (Goethe)

The beauty of being is the ability to survive. God, Nature and the Universe do not heap upon us that of which we cannot handle. They either challenge you and make you stronger, or outright kill you. If we have made it this far, a few hardship will not kill us. We are not created “just because” or by accident.

With hardship comes finding yourself. Your secret strength. Your dormant wisdom. Your hidden abilities. None of which you find in the face of comfort because by being comfortable you cease to seek, therefore you cease to understand.

There will be times in this boatman’s life where comfort is welcomed. However, no comfort are fully appreciated until one has experienced discomfort first. Comfort without discomfort are taken for granted and abused.

Let the waters settle.
You will see stars and moon mirrored in your being. (Rumi)

How would you know the stars and moon are good, if you have not experienced missing them during the daylight? Most importantly, how can you let the waters settle without it being rippled first?

Can we understand the value of a diamond, without knowing the value of a rock to compare it with? We know a million is more valuable than a dollar, because we understand the value of a dollar first. The lesser must be understood and acknowledge before the greater is visible.

When you have to make a choice and don’t make it, that is in itself a choice.  (William James)

There’s an old boatman who did not want to rock the boat, so he let the elements take him. He is comfortable, but he constantly look back and wondered: what if?

Perhaps his life now is suited, is the best for him…but he’ll never know it himself because he has never tried another path. He is one of the What Ifs and If Onlys, constantly questioning himself because he did not answer it when the question arrived at a time he had the energy to explore it.

Constantly thinking of it but never tried it in his youth, constantly thinking of it but too late to do it in his old age.

Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable. (Sydney J. Harris)

Would we rather be proud of where we took our boat, or will we dwell endlessly on where our boat took us?

I wish us all happy rowing.