Changed da house,
Changed da look.
BTW, my bathrobe's usually pink
and we don't have a fireplace.
Other than that,
it's pretty accurate...
Psst...click the words above to navigate.
Best viewed, unfortunately, in Internet Explorer.
Changed da house,
Changed da look.
BTW, my bathrobe's usually pink
and we don't have a fireplace.
Other than that,
it's pretty accurate...
Psst...click the words above to navigate.
Best viewed, unfortunately, in Internet Explorer.
Work is still hectic, but I blithely left the office at a quarter past five, only to go back home and start preparing my application for a job as a writer. It sounds very similar to Kenneth Pinto's job, minus actually writing about technology. I get to simplify Geekdom for the minions - if I get the job.
Irony: I am totally sick of words at this juncture. (Not good for aspiring writer). And absolutely have a neckful of talking myself up and embellishing what I have done in my pathetic 2 years in the Singapore Workforce that is so wonderful that everyone should give me this job NOW.
Absolutely knackered.
Started working today. (Don't get all excited yet; it's just a casual full-time job. Am putting together marketing strategies for a company and FINALLY getting PAID to do so.)
Left office late. Bus came even later. Missed the connecting bus because of that. Called The Husband. Came back home just in time to cook rice and receive Kevin, Lover of Titanium and Useless Trivia.
Fed both baseball nuts Apricot Chicken - except I cooked it with mango instead of apricot and it still turned out very edible. Kevin decided to make tang yuan (Chinese sweet dessert) after that but without the peanut/red bean filling. Just the dough-ey stuff and the syrup. But being Kevin, he HAD to make half of the dough stuff a bright blue. The rest were white. Pictures will accompany shortly. It looks like we were boiling smurfs for dessert.
Going to join The Husband very soon in Symphony of Snores. G'night.
So the computer decided to get obsessive-compulsive on 1 miserable Windows Update file, thereby rendering itself totally useless. We spent Saturday reformatting the C Drive (oh joy), but not before panicking that the hard drive had just given up and gone home. Major grumps emanated from the husband for sure. Having crashed many PCs in days of yore, I was more resigned to the fact that I had to spend time prettifying my settings again.
We then spent the better part of today making it look as normal as possible - an interesting feat mind you, considering XP has managed to change ALL the fonts plastered on file names / folders / taskbars / younammit to something BEEG and SERIF. And we have no idea how to change it back, without switching to Windows Classic View. We can only make the darn fonts BIGGER or tinier and we're too tired now to plough through the most unhelpful Help and Support option that Microsoft had so graciously supplied us.
So in an act of total rebellion (and just so I could get RSS feeds with a new mail browser), I downloaded Mozilla's Thunderbird AND Firefox. Take that, stoopid Microsoft.
We are totally knackered and are almost declaring this Long Weekend a dud of sorts. It's ANZAC day tomorrow, and aside from WW1 veterans talking on TV about how the Turks and Australian trenches were only this much apart... and the Grand Prix... there really isn't much on telly.
This spate of bad TV and sports will continue tomorrow, because it's Australian television - secretly renowned the world over to be Quite Bad Most Times. (I've counted the number of Cop shows on just two channels: 9, without looking at the TV guide.)
First, there's gonna be a huge coverage of the 90th anniversary at Gallipoli held at the War Memorial in Canberra, interspersed with bad ads on mattresses and barbecues going for $99.99. After that, there's gonna be the Footy. Yes, you aren't truly a patriot of Australia unless you watch the Footy.
Hmm, let's see: War... Football... Sports Cars going round and round in circles. ANZAC day is a BOY'S Holiday, danggit!
Apart from the Zucchini Slice that still has one last helping in the 'fridge, I can't say I feel I've accomplished much this week.
Everytime Adrian and Doreen talk about their ang-moh (read: 'red-haired', to really mean 'caucasian') daughter-in-law, they talk about the fact that she actually googled the recipe so she could make Chris Teo his popiah - all the way in America.
They seem very proud of the fact that she made such an effort to serve her husband his Singapore savouries - even if they are totally foreign foods to her.
In the spirit of learning to serve my own husband's needs in my own interracial household, I took it upon myself to try and make a zucchini slice.
Nevermind that he didn't grow up eating the stuff.
Nevermind that he's never even had a craving for the dish.
The important thing is that it has cheese and bacon in it, doesn't involve using rice or noodles, and is therefore a bona fide ANG-MOH DISH. I've also been promised that it's dead easy to do.
As with anything I do, it never turns out as easy as it says in the book.
I had to grate the zucchini and the carrot. Having hardly used a grater since we got married, I soon found that our K-mart grater couldn't grate jelly if we tried. I ended up chopping everything into tiny, teeny bits using a CHINESE CLEAVER. See, even with ang-moh food, I had to resort to using something Asian. Pfft.
But yes, after that was done with, I followed the rest of the recipe, decided that we could do with more eggs and improvised, hoped for the best as I shoved it in the oven set to moderate, and voila!
Seeing how this week has absolutely bombed job-wise (I was just informed today that I lost out in clinching an interview because I don't have a driver's license), the least I can do is pretend that I can fall back on Professional Housewifery.
"LETHOLOGICA!"
"What?"
"That's the word which describes the state where you cannot remember the right word to use."
"Oh! Okay... why are you telling me this now?"
"Just in case I forget the word when I wake up tomorrow."
Called the MD (fully aware that I risk him "having a think" AGAIN, even with this casual position), and told him I'd be "able to help him".
ARE YOU COMPLETELY MAD, MADAM?!!!
Well, perhaps. But I also figure,
Who knows. Tomorrow is a new day, just like this one.
(I just forked out $134 for a dentist to tell me that the only reason my teeth hurt is that I brush them too vigorously with something akin to a toilet scrub.)
(Conversely, I could end up really mucking things up, and we'd both be thankful I didn't get the job.)
P.S.: I love The Husband. The Husband is a keeper.
On Saturday, I had gone for an interview and came out of it an hour later feeling pretty stunned because I had been offered a job. A GOOD job. A pretty kick-ass, feisty, black-stockings-and-sexy-court-shoes, no-holds-barred, goodness-is-that-the-time? kinda good job. And a permanent, full-time one at that.
Knowing instinctively that I shouldn't jump straight into the director's arms and scream YESSSSSS! three times, I asked if I could get back to him on Monday or Tuesday. We fixed the day of reckoning on Tuesday, whereupon if I agreed, we would let me meet the rest of his staff to see if they love me or hate me, and then the letter of offer would be written up by Friday.
I spent the rest of Saturday almost fretting that I wasn't up to it, and Sunday rather giddy and content. My plan was to call a friend and former manager up on Monday - today - to check if the salary bracket I had quoted was reasonable. The interviewer had offered me less during the probation period, and I was contemplating a renegotiation.
Then he catches me unawares and calls me today. And tells me "he's been thinking". And goes on to tell me that instead of a full time, permanent thing, he's changed his mind and wants to offer me instead a casual job. 4-6 weeks. "And after the 4-6 weeks?" I ask, not quite catching on how he'd changed his tune just like that, "What happens after the 4 to 6 weeks of this casual position?"
Then apparently, that's it. And by the way, it'd be good if I don't stop myself from looking for another job. Uh huh, uh huh...
There are a couple of reasons for this, apparently. Something about the work he has not being challenging enough for me in the long run. Something else about looking for a Uni student for the job he wants. Something about the 4-6 weeks actually being fairer to me in terms of what I'm looking for. I'm still not quite sure I understand. I ask to think about the (reduced) offer and promise to get back to him tomorrow, as originally agreed. I then turn the vacuum cleaner back on again to drown my sorrows.
Hey, it's better than drink.
I vaccillate between uncertainty and sheer bafflement. I wonder what I had done to change his tune. I wonder what I didn't do that made it all different. I try to replay the Saturday in my head, and almost tricked myself into thinking that I had gotten it all wrong, and I had imagined that he had put the offer on the table. But it wasn't a hallucination; we had talked about my salary expectations. He was also trying to do a closing on me, and it was only when I backed away and asked to think about it, that we talked about reconvening on Tuesday.
And maybe that was it.
What if I had accepted on the spot? Would it have made a difference? Or would it also have reflected badly on me?
And then finally I decide that I am angry. Because it is just bad ethics, I feel, to put an offer on the table, and then unceremoniously sweep it off "after a think". Legally, I have nothing on him. But deep down in my gut, I feel almost betrayed. "I dunno about you Australians, " I steamed at the poor husband while furiously scrubbing the dishes, "but as a Chinese, I can tell you that this is VERY BAD MANNERS."
And very soon after that statement, I cried and cried because I was so disappointed and so upset. I felt I wasn't only disappointing myself, I was disappointing a household in losing a job I might never have had to begin with. I was also secretly ashamed that I had taken my anger out on the one person who is my immediate cheerleader on this, only because he was the only punching bag I have because Canberra is too small to make enemies. What a terrible thing to do.
It's only week 3 of the Job Search. I know I am terribly blessed to be called for 2 interviews within such a short period, but rejection always sucks anyway.
I'm in the midst of packing for a mini-break with the husband. We're going to Melbourne for Sarah and E-gene's Wedding! They're finally getting married after a 2 year engagement! Boy that girl is patient. At our wedding with Sarah and Charles. Egene couldn't make it. So yes, come this weekend, Tony and I will play witness to one of the sweetest matches I know. Sarah's already gorgeous in normal clothes. She's gonna be drop-dead beautiful in a BWF. It's also gonna be a bit of a mini-reunion, really. Lots of people coming far and near to Mt Dandenong. My mother's going for the reception in Singapore, next week. Note to self: pack da camera! My heartiest congratulations, girlfriend!
I remember the long-distance phonecall from Sarah, one weekday in February 2 years ago. She asked me to guess what had happened.
"E-gene proposed!"
"HOW DO YOU KNOW!"
Only because we're all been secretly waiting for that to happen one of these years.
She recounted the proposal with loving detail, right down to the bit when NRIC numbers were declared so as to make no mistake of the parties involved in this monumental moment. The question was humbly asked a day after Valentines Day 2 years ago, and we've all been waiting with bated breath for the wedding invitation since then.
But after the date had been moved twice due to a variety of reasons, I came to a point where I had my own phonecall to make. My exact recollection is hazy, but it went something like this:Me: Don't kill me, okay... but Tony and I are getting married before you and E-gene are.
Sarah: (Squeal of excitement) CON-GRA-TU-LA-SHUUUUUNS! WHEN IS IT?
Me: 18th December this year.
Sarah: WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?! TELL ME E-VE-RY-THIIIIING! Man, everyone's getting married before E-gene and I are, all our friends, everybody! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOOOOOOOU!
Me: Hee hee!
(Charles is gonna be Sarah's Bride's Mate.)
When we first moved into Palmerston, I had unpacked the boxes in the bedroom while Tony had unpacked in the study. It made perfect sense; Tony's a minimalist, which means most of his clothes fit on a single mobile rack and a Tall Boy, while my clothes take up the entire built-in closet, and then some. Meanwhile, one of Tony's few pride and joys is his bookcase, and his 150 or so volumes.
The bookcase is one of a kind, in that it was handmade by a friend and is sturdy as a tree. (It also weighs like one.) He almost-ritually arranges his books in a certain order, with certain shelves designated for certain topics only. I sit facing this bookcase now and am slightly embarrassed by my meager contribution, content-wise. I am, nevertheless, proud of him in this insipid my-boyfriend-is-SO-smart way. Obviously, I've not outgrown this since we married.
We're now part of a small group in church that is undergoing an EYE (Energising Your Evangelism) project. In an effort to help a group member address some questions a non-believer has asked, Tony brought out a book from The Third Shelf. I read the book jacket and have decided to hijack it before turning it over to the small group. I've blogged some stuff from the book here, so go read if you're interested. It's turning out to be a pretty engrossing read. I have to set the timer on my new phone so I remember to cook lunch. (Excuses! Hah.)
But what I love the most, is our shared love of books... and our hunger for Christian apologetics. Gosh, I love the man. MUAH!
Singaporean Chick embarking on
Adventure of Lifetime with
Cute Aussie Bloke.
Crazy turn of events officiated
18th December 2004.
Online Communications Officer
~ Accomplishments So Far ~Still Married After 13 months
Attained Driver's License!
Manual one, too!
On my first try!
Found a Real Job
BOUGHT A HOUSE
Bought a coffee table
Climbed part of Mt Kosciusko
Chilled with Mum
Organised a house warming party
Good health
Good friends
Renewed relationship with God
"A house is a machine for living." -- Buckminster Fuller, designer/architect/inventor
Check out back entries,
predating the emergence of Mrs Velle