FUNNYACCENT

Self

How many of us while surfing on the net and maneuver our ways through the web and come across the name you believe s/he was in the same class as yours 34 years ago? I, for sure would be delighted , excited and couldn't wait to say hello. Well, not this woman. Yesterday, I received a reminder from FaceBook that I had a message left by this woman.

I clicked the link and read her message. From her description in first paragraph I was positive we were in the same class: Form Four Science One (1973),and Form Five Science Two (1974). I tried to picture her face, her seat in the class in both years, but it came back blank. I just  couldn't remember who she was. I remember a bunch of names but for some reasons my memory couldn't locate her at all.

Anyho, as I was writing the response how excited I was to get her message, I noticed the second paragaph and when I read it all I could say was: Wow......

This is what she wrote to me:

Ribuan Salleh April 2 at 11:36am Report

aku ni mencari kawan-kawan KIK dulu tahun 73 aku 4sc1, 74 5sc2 sebabnya aku tak berapa pandai bahasa orang puteh.

Aku rasa janganlah mu pakai macam dalam gambar tu malulah, jatuh maruah bekas pelajar sekolah agama.

 

I was a little shaken after I read her message, then outrage at her audacity, but at the end it saddenned me more than anything else the way she reached out to a classmate she hasn't seen for 34 years. I thought the least she could do was a simple greeting: Assalamualaikum or Apa khabar. But then we  see ourselves in different light and angle. 

 

And I'm fully aware that when I put my pictures out on the web I couldn't stop anybody from making any types of comments. Thank you Puan Ribuan Salleh for your concern.

 

 

 

What Have I Given?-Self Reflection

When I was a kid Mak always said something like this , "You kids always want, want, want. What have you given?" when we whined about something. We knew perfectly well we weren't going to get them anyway, but whining was fun when you knew when to stop.

"Huh?"

"What have you given to me? to your father? to your sisters? to your brothers?"

In my head. Oh...no, Mak is getting crazy. She is not only different from other kids' mothers, now she wants me to give her money.

"But I only seven years old Mak, where do I get the money? Every day you only give me thirty cents." I thought I was smart. In a way I reminded her that thirty cents wasn't enough.

"You bring your lunch everyday.You don't have to spend your thirty cents."

"But you know I don't spend all the money."

"Good, don't spend them at all. By Friday you get $1.50, give them to me and I put them away, by the end of the month you get $6.00. When you ask me for money, I have them for you."

I was sure Mak was getting crazy. She spent too much time by herself. If she wasn't pulling out weeds from her little vegetable garden or searching for little insects on tomatoes's buds, she would be at her Singer sewing machine, sewing something. Why can't she be like other kids's mothers on the block? Sitting together, giggling and swapping stories?

"But that would be my money that you are giving back to me."

"No. It's not your money. You are not working. Your father does."

I got to come up with a better strategy.

Don't Know Much

Thinking that I know what was working and what wasn't for a client was the first mistake I made when I first dipped my feet into social work. I had read about it, they talked about it at the workshops, and during the staff/clinical meetings, it's one of the topics that we have talked about it. But like many of us, we learned the lesson by experimenting it, or in a blunt way, when we make a mistake.

 
It is a humble way to learn that despite the education, degrees and the books that I read, I don't know anything about the person who is sitting opposite me until he trusts me to open up. Until he is willing to share his fear, his anger, his disppointment, his joy and his dream. Until then, I don't know a crap about him except things he thinks I want to hear.

Something In the Air

I did some autumn cleaning last night after I got home from campus. I didn't realize the amount of cables, cords, and wires I've been collecting all these years: power cables, monitor cords, monitor power adapter cords, pc cables, audio cables, extension cords, universal power cords, splitters, fiber optic cables, duplex multimode fiber cords, duplex single mode fiber, converters not to mention keyboard, mouse cables, internal cables, hard disks and motherboards that I saved from my old, old computers. My goodness, I was horrified.

 I am a hoarder.

I was traumatized by just looking at the pile of junks I've been hoarding all these years.

Seriously, I'm still traumatized as I am writing this entry (shuddering).

Anyho, I put them all in a double layers industrial strength garbage bag and this morning I hauled the bag down to a dumpster for trash pick up this morning.

First I didn't feel it, but after I dumped the trash bags into a dumpster, I heard the hening-silence. It was an eerie feeling not in a frightening way, but similar to  bring comfort to my being. I felt the calmness of the morning, when the sun was still in fetal position under a warm old quilt. It was about 5 a.m. I didn't hear anything except the morning breeze glided between the oak tree leaves and whispered sweet love to the branches. 

 I dumped the trash bag into a dumpster and walked back to the front door. Then my nose caught a morning scent. I straightened my spine, as a string gently pulled up from the top of my head. I inhaled a perfumed morning air.

Dumb Ass

I like pureed summer squash so much I have it two or three times a week. The other day I bought a couple organic summer squash from the Farmer's Market at Copley Square. When I got home I skinned one of them, scooped out the seeds, quartered, and boiled them with minimum water until the squashed turned mushy. I drained the water, using the wooden spoon I flattened the hard-headed bits.

I sprinkled nutmeg powder, tossed a few cardamom seeds, a little of salt and a pinch of sweet potato starch. I stirred the mixture on a very low heat. I turned off the heat and left it overnight on the stove.

This morning,  I transferred the squash into a plastic container. I found the lid but the lid didn't seem to fit the container even they were bought as a couple. Then I realized the bottom part was very, very slightly out of shape because I used it to steam another dish in a rice cooker.

Being a determined person I am, I refused to let some slightly-out of shape- three for $1.00 -container to distract my mission.

In my kitchen at 5:00 am, the  sound of gurgling coffee brewing in the background, I wrestled my stupidity with a plastic container full to the rim with pureed  cardamom and nutmeg scented summer squash in my left hand, and the lid in my right hand.

Within a minute, the container flew out of my hand and landed on the kitchen floor. The container hit the corner of the kitchen sink and the golden pureed squash splat on the side of the sink. Now it looked more like a baby poop.

If somebody else did it, I won't hesitate to say, "What a dumb ass thing to do."

Who is the dumb ass now?

I don't  know the name of these plants, but I like the lavender and yellow flowers. They grow on the front yard of the church on Boylston Street.

The flowers remind me of the plants that produced a similar flowers on the front yard of grandmother's house in Penang  47 years ago.

She Had Bubur Kanji I Had This.........

 

During Skyeping session with my sister, KakNgah yesterday morning while I was having a yogurt and a cup of coffee for sahur, she told me they were going to have bubur lambuk for buka puasa. I knew if I wanted to have a wicked good bubur kanji for my dinner later in the evening I needed some ingredients which I didn't have them in my kitchen.

We had a long clinical meeting, when I got home it was already 6:30 pm. When one hungry and fatigue one could come up with amazing ideas!!! :))

I peeled, cored and sliced a Fuji apple and baked for 30 minutes in the oven. When it was baked, I topped it up with two scoops of Butter Pecan ice cream.

Signs of Full Blown Summer

There is a lot of truth when a wiseass sage or something came up with, "We don't fully appreciate what we have until we lose it," or something like that.

In my case, I do not lose it but I no longer have a luxury of having it all year around:

Warm weather all year around.

Picnic and BBQ cookout at the park

Blooming flowers (Ginny's garden)

 

Walking along Boston Harbor and share the water front view with the angsa-geese.

Another cookout at Jane's place.

Surprise and joyful findings at open flea market-monkey pitcher plant at Raynham Flea Market.

 

fresh tomatoes from the Jane's garden :))

Break dance

Can You Flex This?

Last Saturday I managed to run 8 miles, 4 miles on Monday evening and another 4 miles on Wednesday. I wanted to do double loop at Castle Island on Wednesday evening, but I didn't get home until 6:00 pm. And boy I hate it when somebody messed up my running plan.

On Wednesday, around 2:00 pm the supervisor returned to the site from Directors meeting. He told us due to some important information he had to share with us, the staff and clinical meeting would be held in an hour instead of the next day. When he saw my expression, he knew I was upset with it. He asked me if everything was okay.

"Ohh.... I just need a cup of tea." What do you think, you sob, you'd just ruined my plan.

"I know you are mad at me. You're planning to run this evening."

"You got me. Yeah...I'm mad at you, but it will go away." He knew I told him the truth.

The thing is he is an of endangered species. That's how good he is as a boss.

And when people say things happen for reasons, I roll my eyes. But the one hour run which I started late on Wednesday evening got me thinking hard of my emotional reaction on some events that took place in the past.

I've always considered myself as a flexible, spontaneous, bla, bla, bla....., but when thing didn't go my way, I became upset, angry or annoyed at the person I wanted to belief that ruined my plan.

"Ana, you are full shit. You said you are flexible. Flexible my arse!!!" I told myself out loud as the sand crunched under my feet and the salty air brushed my face.

When I reached the Castle Island, I slowed down and ran uphill toward the fort. I wanted to put my finger on the subject that I wasn't flexible about. What were the subjects that I was flexible about and what were not? I looked at my watch when I reached to the top. Then it hit me.

It was all about TIME. I couldn't detach myself from time.................I'll be back.

Later, after the shower I had fried cempedak  for dinner.

Poof

I thought we'd never get warm weather after a long stretch of rain, cold, windy, rain and cold , cold and rain since the beginning of spring. Except for my heavy winter jackets which I took to dry cleaner last week, the rest of my winter clothes are still within my reach in the drawers. I think tonight my winter and spring clothes will get busy switching places..... or perhaps not.

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Two days before the weekend I experienced an unpleasant situation with one of the upper management staff. Nothing serious but it was something I've come to understand that some of us are more or less like animal when we are pushed to the corner. Some people will do anything to save their asses. I was angry and disappointed when I learned about it, but when I went home, I changed clothes and went out running. By the end of 7 mile, all the negative feeling I had earlier was washed away with my sweat. I had a clear perspective of what I need to do. Nothing is more important than my peaceful mind. Let the dead bury the dead.

If Aging Makes Me Wiser, Why Is Facial Cleanser is In My Hair?

I like to wash my face when I am in a shower. I'll stand under a shower for a few minutes and let the water washes away a day dust, dirt and fatigue. Then I step away from a shower head, grab face cleanser, squeeze the foam onto the tips of my left hand. With my right hand I divide the foam into halves. I close my eyes and bring  my hands to my face and gently lather the cleanser onto my face.

About an hour ago after I got home from the class, I did exactly the same thing except I lathered my hair and not my face. And the worst part was I thought I was shampooing my hair with shampoo. With my eyes closed, I was wondering, "What is wrong with this shampoo?" Before I knew it (and my eyes were still closed)I had started a long string of cursing at the shampoo manufacturer for making suck shampoo. Then my nose caught a whiff of faint sandalwood. Then it hit me I was shampooing my hair with my face cleanser.