Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
'I AM famished!' thought Vivienne, her stomach echoing her thoughts with a loud and embarrassing rumble. This, she noted with despair, despite having a hearty - though unhealthy - breakfast at McDonald's just before heading to the office.
Not that she wanted McDonald's; she wanted lamb and macaroni stew - the one that Nigella made on TV that day. She could think of no place else to get it (unless she went banging on Miss Lawson's kitchen door and risk getting stewed herself). Damn that woman for always turning her into a hungry monster each time she watches the show.
The more Vivienne thought about it, the more convinced she became that there was only one way to go about it: she would just have to cook the dish herself.
It didn't seem too difficult, really. She'd go shopping that night and pick up the essentials.
"All I need are a few things," said Vivienne over a long distance phonecall to her best friend, Joanna who lived in Singapore.
Vivienne had known Joanna since she moved in to the house next door back in the sleepy town of Ipoh 25 years ago. They warmed to each other the moment the bespectacled, bright-eyed Joanna introduced herself, and the two had been inseparable ever since.
"Viv. You haven't cooked in a while. Are you sure you want to do this? Plus, you're so accident-prone, what are the odds of you not setting fire to the kitchen?" her friend responded.
"Oh ye of little faith," Vivienne retorted.
She'd show Jo. One way or another, this cookout was going to be a success; life and death depended on it!
She drove to the supermarket with her boyfriend, Caleb, in tow. Good old Caleb who always did the cooking at home, and who did not bat an eyelid when she announced her (very rare) culinary intentions.
All she needed were onions, garlic, celery, some herbs, tomato, carrots, and macaroni.
"Are you sure that's all you need, babe?" Caleb asked doubtfully.
For a moment, she felt indignant that Caleb seemed to question her abilities. Then she realised that he was just being concerned. After all, she had decided not to tell him what exactly it was that she wanted to cook. She wanted it to be a surprise.
She recalled the phone call with her best friend.
"Does Caleb know? Do you think he's gonna let you conjure a disaster in the kitchen?" Joanna had demanded.
"He's not as critical as you," she replied tartly. "Besides, he doesn't know what I was planning to cook. I want it to be a surprise. He'll love it."
There was a short pause before Joanna responded.
"Just be careful in the kitchen, OK? Right, gotta run. Dinner. Later, babe."
**********
LATER that evening, Vivienne slaved away, chopping and blending alone in the kitchen at her apartment. Caleb had been banished to his own pad.
"This is easier than I thought," she mumbled to herself.
She took out the largest pot she could find in the kitchen and then heated up some olive oil in a skillet to brown the meat.
And then it struck her.
She had forgotten to buy the lamb! No wonder it seemed so easy.
"Aww...shit. No, no, no...how could I forget the main ingredient?" she groaned, sinking heavily on to a stool near the stove. And knocking the skillet handle in the process, causing the pan to fall on to the floor in a loud clang.
"Fuck!" she yelled, jumping to avoid the splatter of hot oil. This was turning into a disaster. Joanna was right. And Caleb probably figured this would happen.
At that moment, the phone rang. It was Caleb.
"Babe. You OK?" His voice was a mixture of concern and mirth.
"I'm fine!" she snapped.
"No, you're not. Open the door. I'm right outside."
"What? How did you...." But Caleb had hung up.
There was nothing else to do but to let him in. Caleb stared at the mess in the kitchen. From behind, Vivienne studied his profile. Tall, lean and with wavy dark hair, Caleb was a nice-looking bloke with a charming grin. She saw him take a deep breath as he surveyed the carnage. Caleb could be a little anal where cooking was concerned.
She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the rebuke - except that she could only hear a deep and long chuckle. She opened her eyes tentatively and saw Caleb looking at her with amusement written all over his face.
He held out a plastic bag.
"You forgot this," he said, trying to contain his mirth before dissolving into a fit of laughter.
She opened the bag and stared. Caleb had brought fresh lamb shoulder from the butcher's, all nicely cubed.
"You forgot this when we went to the supermarket that day. Hey, I pay attention, you know?" he explained.
"How did you know? I didn't tell you!" she spluttered.
He smiled and put his finger to his lips, then drew her to him. "Let's clean up; we've got to get ready," was all he said before leading her to the kitchen and ignoring her frantic protestations. Fifteen minutes later saw the kitchen back in shape.
And then the doorbell rang.
"Who's there?" Vivienne spoke into the intercom a little edgily.
"Open up," came a brisk - and familiar - voice.
With a little yelp of delight, Vivienne opened the door to find her best friend standing outside. There was an expression of wry amusement on Joanna's face. Vivienne looked at Caleb and then back at her best friend.
Joanna had arrived in Kuala Lumpur early that morning. She had wanted it to be a surprise and had called to inform Caleb of her plans.
"So. You didn't kill yourself in the process," she said with a grin after a round of hugs. "But my money is on Caleb helping you clean up some mess or other. Looks like you didn't manage to get round to the cooking after all."
Vivienne smiled ruefully before giving Caleb a mock accusatory stare.
"Well, that tells me I'm right. C'mon, let's go out. I am famished," said Joanna.
'Yeah, so am I,' Vivienne thought. "Except that all I really want to eat is lamb and macaroni stew. Like the one Nigella made on TV that day.'
'Just as well,' thought Caleb. 'I hate lamb anyway.'
***********
Note:
Here's a recipe for lamb and macaroni stew:
LAMB AND MACARONI STEW
Ingredients:
Lamb shoulder, cubed and lightly seasoned. White onion Garlic Celery Bay Leaves Dried Oregano 2 cans tomato Carrots Fresh Oregano Macaroni Feta cheese Bottle of white wine
Method:
1. Brown lamb cubes (don't fully cook), then set aside. 2. Blend chopped onion, garlic and celery, then fry mixture in lamb oil. 3. When slightly translucent, take out half the portion, throw in lamb cubes and cover with remaining mix. 4. Sprinkle in dried oregano and bay leaves, and pour in tomatoes. 5. Stir. Pour in white wine. 6. Add a jug of water. Mix, cover pot with lid and leave on low fire for two hours. 7. Later, bring the stew to boil, then pour in the macaroni. 8. Dish out.
Garnishing:
1. Chop fresh oregano and knead with feta cheese. 2. Sprinkle on top of stew 3. Serve
I PAID dad a visit yesterday. It's been more than a year since I had shown up at his house without my brother in tow.
Funny, I didn't dash off in an hour as I had initially expected; by the time I left his place, it was already 2pm. I had spent almost three hours chatting with my old man. What a wonderful surprise.
It's rare that our visits extend beyond the two-hour mark, even with Colin around. My brother is a busy man and has to juggle his visits with dad (and me) around his business appointments. I, too, am usually stuck with work, but if I have to be honest, I would admit to feeling rather awkward during visits with dad. Often, I would not know what to talk about, preferring to let Colin take the lead.
I'm not sure how this awkwardness came about. We had always been close. Dad used to be the first person I turned to when I needed advice and when I was sad. We used to have long conversations on the phone when I was in university. Yes, dad was - and still is - a very wise and funny man. But, things happened along the way, resulting in a split family, lots of anger on all sides, and resentment on mine. That's in the past, but I guess we all carry hurts from our past to our present lives.
Dad has a new family now, and I have a half brother and half sister. It's hard for me to reconcile with this fact; I keep thinking in terms of the original family. Perhaps that is a contributing factor to the "strain" (for want of a better word) that I feel where my relationship with dad is concerned.
Colin seems to be more at ease around our dad. Then again, my brother is quite a remarkable guy. Put him with the King and he'd have no problems; they'd probably be best buds within the hour, given my brother's brand of charm.
Looking back, I think I have allowed my own negative perceptions to get in the way of my relationship with my father. Yesterday's visit was a confirmation of that: I had a pretty nice time and was reminded of all the wonderful and not-so-wonderful things about him (which just proves that we are all human, and shows me that there is a lot of my father in me).
Dad usually comes across as a very intimidating man (tall, strong and assertive - you know the type), but get to know him a little more and you will find a wicked sense of humour lurking beneath the cynical exterior. He is intelligent and has a very sharp and analytical mind. He also has a very sharp tongue. I admire his sarcasm and hate it (when it is leveled at me) in equal measure. Don't attempt an argument with dad unless you are damned sure of yourself. He is a perfectionist, and a downright expert in the guilt-trip department. He can be a tad touchy and cantankarous at times, but that, I guess, comes with age. Dad can be bossy: he is always right. He can also be very persuasive and you can get fooled by him if you don't know your subject well enough. Case in point: he once convinced me that MJ had changed his name to Michael Ross because of his close relationship with Diana Ross. I only discovered that I had been duped when I found dad in the kitchen, totally convulsed in laughter. But, that's dad with his practical jokes. He is very protective of his family, especially the women: all my boyfriends were afraid of meeting him and I was not allowed to go out for gatherings (especially if there were boys around) until I was much older. He still gets annoyed when I travel to late on my own.
Although my mother played a bigger role in bringing me up, I cannot deny my father the acknowledgement that he deserves in my upbringing.
I love him and I know I would not be half the woman I am today without him.
Boring day today. Hot all day, and now, it's suddenly pouring cats, dogs and their relatives. It's been work, work, work all the way, now that we are down to only two staff on the desk and we're both on leave for Chinese New Year. Gonna miss working with Sarah. She's so efficient!
Had pork sandwiches for lunch, made by Mister Sandwich Maestro. Oh, so sedap gillerrr babi!!!!!
Can't wait to leave the office and rest for the next four days!
IT MUST be wonderful thing to be an artist, because even the artistically challenged know how to appreciate creative genius and beauty.
Aesthetics do count for plenty, no matter how much intelligence an artist wants to inject into his work. Doesn't matter if the audience doesn't identify with the emotions motivating those painterly expressions, or do not make suitable academic comments on the artist's style, etc.
If you look at my profile, you will see a painting of a woman with her hands behind her head. The generous view of her cleavage is enhanced by the way her head is inclined to her right. The only colour used in the painting, aside from black and white (which is supposedly a non-colour) is a vivid lime-ish green.
This is Reena - both the name of the painting, and the muse. She is the wife of artist Khairul Azmir Shoib - one of Malaysia's upcoming contemporary artists, and one of my favourites (I do admit the heavy influence of Tim Burton and other artists like Dave McKean can obscure his own personal touches to some of his work, but he's good, no doubt about it).
I love this painting. I love the way the woman is depicted in a tardy gown, her wings tattered and her face bearing a slightly world-weary expression; yet in spite of it all, there is a sensuality emanating from the picture.
For me, Khairul, or Meme, as he is known, is a consummate artist, constantly telling a story in all his works. He speaks not only through colour and stroke, or the expressions and movements of his subjects; the diminutive and soft-spoken chap occasionally pens his thoughts, words and phrases on his paintings, to sort of guide the viewer along.
Meme is not known for the ubiquitous landscape works, neither is he a portrait artist in the most conventional sense. His works are quirky, although often exuding a dark and sombre feel resulting from the choice of colour and imagery. Think Dave McKean, and you will know what I mean. Yet, they are compelling -- at least to me.
There are many other artists (or rather, their works) that I totally adore (Jai, Bayu and the entire Matahati outfit, I-Lan, Kok Hooi, Eston, Marvin, Latiff, Kon Yit, Nadia, Ivan, Bee Ling, and the list goes on...) but the reason I have chosen to highlight Meme in this post is because credit must be given to the creator of my profile picture.
Incidentally, 'Reena' was the first painting by a local artist that I had wanted so badly to acquire, but lacked the funds to do so. I found out eventually that Nabil (of NN Gallery) bought it.. oh well, at least it is in good hands.
This, I guess, is as close as I can get to owning 'Reena'. That's good enough for a poor woman with sometimes expensive tastes.
Check out more of Meme's work and thoughts at http://verame.blogspot.com/
I STILL haven't installed the site meter yet, but at least I've figured out what I want this blog to be about.
It's about life - mine, anyway, and the people and incidences that revolve around it.
Like our 12th general election, for instance.
Yesterday was certainly a historic day for Malaysians. Finally, the people have spoken - the ruling government, BN, no longer has 2/3 majority, and the opposition has been given a bigger mandate. Looks like Malaysia has had enough of the lies from Badawi's regime. Serves the BN right for being so complacent and cocky and for playing dirty.
Now, the state of Selangor has fallen into the hands of the opposition.
And, amazingly, PJ Utara - with perhaps the largest constituency of voters in the country - fell wholesale into the hands of the DAP.
The last two weeks saw me working the campaign trail. Each day, despite having to devote more coverage to the BN, I still witnessed how the opposition increasingly drew more supporters to its cause - not that they had to try too hard; too much had happened in the country for the rakyat to ever look at the government with the same rose-tinted shades again.
It tickled me that the company I work for - always known for being extremely right-wing - has now become a left-wing paper, considering its location on what has become opposition soil. The ball-carrier of the Barisan Nasional, particularly the MCA, has now found itself on the other end of the stick.
Now that Chew Mei Fun and her posse are out, and Tony Pua (winning by a thumping 20, 000 majority!) and his band of merry men are in, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the best.
Truly, PJ Utara has taken the lead for a change, with all three seats falling into the DAP's hands. I'm dead certain the Barisan is still reeling at the shock of their bitter defeat.
Then again, the whole nation is recovering from the shock of the landslide change in the overall scheme of things.
Ultimately, all the people want, as a result of good governance, is peace, justice and equal rights for all, regardless of race and creed.
I've taken another baby step towards blogging today, and it's all because of Jaya.
Jaya's quite a bundle of fun, and although it doesn't seem like it, this flirtatious chick with the coy smile is quite a blog whiz.
What really surprised me was that she even blogged at all!
Unsurprisingly, though, Jaya's blog is titled For Vain and Valid Reasons. Very apt, specially where Jaya's concerned.
My first impression of Jaya was that she was a vain pot. I wasn't wrong. But, her vanity is justified, valid, even, considering the expert she is in the beauty department.
Jaya has great complexion, is always flawlessly made up, and never leaves home without make-up in her bag. We sometimes catch her preening or checking her make-up in her compact mirror. Some people might think that's excessive, but I think that fully explains why you'll never catch her with running mascara, smudged eyeliner, unevenly rouged cheeks or untinted lips. How many women can even look like that? I'm still trying to figure out how not to look like a raccoon at the end of a working day! Maybe I'll ask her for tips on which mascara to use.
That she was a flirt, was something I found out eventually. But that just adds to her allure, I think. And speaking as a woman, I find her flirtation rather amusing simply because she applies age-old tactics, such as the naughty little girl smile, the sidewise glance, and the cute giggle. It's not too overdone, I feel, not like some other people we both know (maybe someday I'll blog about her - I know Jaya will).
For all that flirting expertise, she seems to attract the strangest men. There's this dude in the office that comes round to hover behind her when she works - a real geeky looking chap whom we never in our wildest imaginations thought would even get the slightest whiff of Jaya's attention. Then there's this this Bengali dude that's gone out his way to get her attention by volunteering to help her out when her car stalled in the Pavilion parking lot for more than a day. In a twist of events, his car then stalled, and she had to bail him out. Poor dude, he doesn't know how far off the mark he is. And her former landlord?..quite sleazy, I have to say, and an old sleazebag, at that.
There are more weird men in Jaya's list, but she's got her share of the nicer ones, too. For one that complains about not feeling loved, our friend recently came to the office only to find that she received a huge bottle of Kenzo perfume from some bloke in the UK. Very nice. But then we suffered the permeating reek of Kenzo for the next few days after that.
Today, she got poked by quite a yummy looking guy on Facebook. Not bad.
She seems demure, but behind the sweetie-pie facade lurks a firebrand that ignites easily with the right trigger. Just about a month ago, she put a certain missy in her place for making false claims about her assets (some people can be a little too full of themselves). We thought they were going to get into an argument.
Today, she gave that same missy a piece of her mind for royally insulting her. Needless to say, the young missy (who, incidentally tries to act too old for her age, and thinks too highly of herself) shut up immediately. Good ol' Jaya. I wouldn't have been able to do it.
But, back to my baby steps.
Thanks to Jaya, I now have a clock on my site. Tomorrow, I'll see if I can put in a site meter. If I fail, I'll know who to look for for some advice.
.JPG)
