Booking a day

I've got a guilty little secret.

I've too many books on my reading lists. And as much as I love to devour books, I'd get distracted from my current read and move on to another book.

It's a neglectful reading habit which I'm guilty of - abandoning my current read and never getting round to finishing any book. Sometimes, I find myself overwhelmed with the growing tower of unread and unfinished books by my bedside.

So, I've decided to assign a different kind of book for each day of the week. Some sort of book theme for each day of the week to feed my need for a different variety of reading.

Monday is travel day because I get the horrible monday blues and yearn to escape from it all.

Tuesday is essay day. I love it how good essays can make me feel grounded with their universal truths that hit home.

Wednesday is classical day because I can't get myself to finish Jane Austen's Emma and Gustave Flaubert's Crime and Punishment.

Thursday is modern fiction day. Anything goes - Nick Hornby, Sophie Kinsella, etc.

Friday is poetry day. I love how words practically leap off the page with visual images.

Saturday is magazine day. Time to read my Oprah, Glamour and Vogue magazines.

Sunday is whatever I fancy day.

Oh, and any book recommendation is most welcomed. :)

Old is gold

Look what I found yesterday at Amcorp Mall while nosing around at the flea market there.












Little gems of vintage cookbooks!

Yeah, they smell kind of musty and the slightly yellowed pages have splotches of brown stains. Some even have dog-eared pages. But I simply love the quirky illustrations of the 50s era. They are so cheerful and optimistic!

And the cakes! I love how the cakes are decorated in sweet pastel florals which you rarely see at cakeshops nowadays.

Some recipes crack me up with their funny titles. I couldn't stop giggling in utter delight. Hmm, cook book authors of the yesteryear sure have a whimsical sense of humour.

This is indeed a sure sign to take baby steps to get started on the cake thingy.

Wondering

I came home today after a client's briefing, frustrated and bored at the same time. I'm getting tired of working for the money. I don't exactly like what I do but I'm good at my day job.

My job doesn't excite me like it used to. When I first started, I'd wake up in the morning all charged to increase my clientbase. Yeah, I was THAT motivated.

Today, it's a different story. Now that I don't need to worry about work coming in, I'm so so so bored with what I do for a living.

But.

Yeah, there's always a big fat 'BUT', I need to pay off my mortgage, insurance, etc

I just wonder if I could give it all up and start baking and selling cakes from home.

Close encounter of the maternal kind

Me - You know, I had this strange dream at the hospital the other day.
Him - What about?
Me - I dreamt you came to visit me with this woman.
Him - Oh.
Me -Are you...?
Him - I brought my mum to visit you, remember?
Me - Your MOTHER?!
Him - Yeah.
Me- Oh-uhm...

And up until then, there was no mention of his mother and she came to visit me!

Good lord! I still don't know how to react.

Better not think about it.

Mozzie fever

Hello, all. It's been a long while since my last post. I've just recovered from a bout of dengue fever.

After the last stage of the flu, I was alright until I coughed up blood and discovered, to my horror, purplish bruises on my back. That's when I dashed to the hospital for check-ups. Upon getting the blood test result, my doctor immediately admitted me to the dreaded hospital ward.

It was my worst nightmare as I absolutely detest hospitals- the antiseptic smell, the low energy from ailing patients, the worried looks from visiting relatives and friends.

I was weak, weepy and moody most of the time. After 3 days of seeing me at my lowest depressed state, Mr. J whisked me out of the ward and wheeled me to the newborn nursery. It was the only thing that kept my sanity. Seeing tiny wrinkly babies cocooned in their blankets upped my mood. And it became my daily highlight during my illness. Every evening, I'd eagerly wait for Mr. J to appear at the ward door to wheel me to the nursery.

I got really depressed until I had a visitor list which was created after my annoyingly supertitious eldest aunt ('tai yee' in Cantonese) asked if I saw any 'hungry ghosts' at night. I could only replied weakly in self-defense, " Yeah, Ah-Tai Yee. Don't you think there're roaming spirits around you, right now with dying people in this hospital. Better not visit me lah. " I had seriously wanted to add, "Oh and by the way, I see one very hungry female spirit hovering by your side."

Boy, was I glad for that off-handed enquiry because, later, my mum couldn't argue with me on my visitor list. Ah, well. The older generation need to be taught a courtesy lesson, sometimes. Just because you're older, that doesn't mean you can say anything you want without any repercussion.

Anyway, I'm glad it's all over - yukky bland hospital food, awkward sleeping position (due to drip needles on both my arms), daily blood tests, countless medicine dosages, freezing air-cond in the ward.

So happy to be back.