KL is our favourite short-getaway destination.
It is about 5 hours away on a bus (unless you get the slow coach that we had or have to suffer 2.5 hours of jam at the Causeway which we did).
What do we like most about KL? The eating. It's such a joy to find such a wide variety of food which are halal. Yum yum.
I'm glad it's not my first trimester. I ate and I ate and I ate. And because I cut down my intake of water so that I wouldn't need to visit the loo too often, I was never quite full. Ouh. That meant, I ate and I ate and I ate even more!
But, of course, the moment I got home, I downed three full cups of water. I was that thirsty, especially because I only took little sips during the 2.5 hours in the jam as I didn't know when it would all end.
Now that we're home, I told Huda that she can body-slam herself against my bladder as often as she wants. She did that a lot on the slow coach to KL. It didn't help that the coach was just a rickety old bus given a facelift.
Every time after a trip, we'd have a post-mortem of sorts but we'd forget all about it by the time we go on our next KL trip because we are forgetful. So, here are our thoughts, just so that we'll have something to refer to next time.
1. Find out which bus company uses that bus station behind Concorde.
2. Never stay at Federal Hotel.
3. With Huda around, we cannot afford to go by Causeway on the way back. We can only take the train or the plane. For planes, it cannot be from KUL-JHB. It has to be from KUL-SIN. Cost is not an issue when sanity is at stake.
4. We shall never visit Berjaya Times Square. The places to go are Mid Valley Megamall, KLCC, Jalan Masjid India, Victoria Station, Bukit Bintang.
5. Bring a map and study the map on the way there. Not, when we are already there.
6. Speak Malay like Malaysians! Even to the Starbucks-Cafe-dude-who-called-himself-Fido-whose-real-name-is-most-probably-Apid-Bin-Leman who insisted on English. Never fall back to English. Where else can we use Malay to speak to people in the service industry. And, where else can I practise my poor command of the language?
Okay. That should be all. Unless I can think of a few more.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
For Whom the Bell Tolls
What is the last step in process writing?
Publishing.
For this blog, I take publishing to mean announcing to one and all that I have a blog and asking, begging, cajoling, forcing at gunpoint everyone and anyone to read all the sordid details of my life here.
But, I dunno leh.
I still very much prefer for this to be a quiet and private place for me to rant and rave about everything and nothing.
Other than The Husband and a few spammers, no one else knows about this page. And I think I shall keep it that way for now.
I suppose, for now, I write for me.
Publishing.
For this blog, I take publishing to mean announcing to one and all that I have a blog and asking, begging, cajoling, forcing at gunpoint everyone and anyone to read all the sordid details of my life here.
But, I dunno leh.
I still very much prefer for this to be a quiet and private place for me to rant and rave about everything and nothing.
Other than The Husband and a few spammers, no one else knows about this page. And I think I shall keep it that way for now.
I suppose, for now, I write for me.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Random Thoughts
1. I absolutely hate the people who do not line up at the bus interchange and board the bus before those who queue up do so. It's fine if you don't want to queue, but you cannot expect to be the first to board if you don't queue. They don't put those railings for decorative purposes, y'know?
2. The word 'stanchion' actually has a meaning. The Husband and I saw the word in a bus one day and were stumped by it.
3. I don't like using my Clarins stretchmark oil. It's supposed to help in reducing stretchmarks. Alhamdulillah, so far, there's none. But, it also has a firming effect on the skin. This can be very uncomfortable when I'm feeling bloated and my skin just can't stretch anymore.
4. I'm feeling so bloated but my throat feels parched and dry. I take sips of water which worsens the bloated feeling but doesn't help the parched and dry throat one bit. What am I to do?
5. My nice neighbour, Irene, who has given me a lot of baby stuff just came over to give me two bags of baby clothes. Huda, you'll have plenty to wear! However, this means that I have no excuse to go shopping for baby clothes. Then again, I'm bad at it. I might as well depend on hand-me-downs and wait for Huda to grow up and shop for herself.
6. At 6 months, some of my colleagues just noticed that I'm pregnant. The most classic response was from a male colleague whom-I-shall-not-name-for-fear-of-embarrassing-him. We were having lunch and another colleague asked when I was due. The male colleague almost choked on his meal and this conversation ensued:
AB: You're due when?
Me: April
AB: You mean you're pregnant?
Me: (laughing) Yes, AB, I have to be pregnant to give birth!
AB: (eyes wide open, seemingly unable to comprehend all the facts of the matter) You're married?
Me: (laughing hysterically) Yes! Since 2003!
Somehow, it's very difficult for me to get offended by what people say. I'm saying this because another colleague who was around at that time was trying to soothe me. But, no feathers were ruffled. No soothing was needed.
7. At times, especially when I put on my glasses and am dressed in my loose-fitting long-sleeved T-shirts and trackpants and my no-ironing-needed tudungs, I'll look like a cross between a secondary school student and a maid.
With my bulging tummy, I look no more than a teenager in trouble.
So, when I got pregnant, I'm quite sure that I'm going to get THAT look from strangers.
True enough, a few days ago, a guy at a hawker centre gave me a certain look after staring at my bulging tummy.
2. The word 'stanchion' actually has a meaning. The Husband and I saw the word in a bus one day and were stumped by it.
3. I don't like using my Clarins stretchmark oil. It's supposed to help in reducing stretchmarks. Alhamdulillah, so far, there's none. But, it also has a firming effect on the skin. This can be very uncomfortable when I'm feeling bloated and my skin just can't stretch anymore.
4. I'm feeling so bloated but my throat feels parched and dry. I take sips of water which worsens the bloated feeling but doesn't help the parched and dry throat one bit. What am I to do?
5. My nice neighbour, Irene, who has given me a lot of baby stuff just came over to give me two bags of baby clothes. Huda, you'll have plenty to wear! However, this means that I have no excuse to go shopping for baby clothes. Then again, I'm bad at it. I might as well depend on hand-me-downs and wait for Huda to grow up and shop for herself.
6. At 6 months, some of my colleagues just noticed that I'm pregnant. The most classic response was from a male colleague whom-I-shall-not-name-for-fear-of-embarrassing-him. We were having lunch and another colleague asked when I was due. The male colleague almost choked on his meal and this conversation ensued:
AB: You're due when?
Me: April
AB: You mean you're pregnant?
Me: (laughing) Yes, AB, I have to be pregnant to give birth!
AB: (eyes wide open, seemingly unable to comprehend all the facts of the matter) You're married?
Me: (laughing hysterically) Yes! Since 2003!
Somehow, it's very difficult for me to get offended by what people say. I'm saying this because another colleague who was around at that time was trying to soothe me. But, no feathers were ruffled. No soothing was needed.
7. At times, especially when I put on my glasses and am dressed in my loose-fitting long-sleeved T-shirts and trackpants and my no-ironing-needed tudungs, I'll look like a cross between a secondary school student and a maid.
With my bulging tummy, I look no more than a teenager in trouble.
So, when I got pregnant, I'm quite sure that I'm going to get THAT look from strangers.
True enough, a few days ago, a guy at a hawker centre gave me a certain look after staring at my bulging tummy.
Friday, January 20, 2006
But, I'll still update once in a while.
(A while can be anything between 20 seconds to 20 days.)
Huda moves about actively around 10pm and 5am. Some people say that the time when the baby is active in the womb will also be the time when the baby is active when she is born. So, I hope this means that at just about 10pm, Huda will be up for her last feed for the night and at 5am, she'll wake up for her morning feed. That will give me a good 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Heh heh.
One of my friends told me that her sister wanted to name her daughter Huda but was informed by some informed people that Huda is a name that cannot stand alone. It must be preceded by a Nurul or something. I've never heard of such a thing but I asked my informed people, just to be on the safe side. My informed people told me that there is no problem naming the child simply Huda. So, it's still Huda.
Rashida, like The Husband, prefers the name Lutfiah. But, heh, I'm pretty adamant about this. It's Huda, Huda, Huda!
The Husband made a slip yesterday. He said, "You know, when Huda grows up -"
I immediately cut in, "You said Huda? Yayyyyy!!!"
Then, he immediately went back to calling Huda Baby.
(A while can be anything between 20 seconds to 20 days.)
Huda moves about actively around 10pm and 5am. Some people say that the time when the baby is active in the womb will also be the time when the baby is active when she is born. So, I hope this means that at just about 10pm, Huda will be up for her last feed for the night and at 5am, she'll wake up for her morning feed. That will give me a good 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Heh heh.
One of my friends told me that her sister wanted to name her daughter Huda but was informed by some informed people that Huda is a name that cannot stand alone. It must be preceded by a Nurul or something. I've never heard of such a thing but I asked my informed people, just to be on the safe side. My informed people told me that there is no problem naming the child simply Huda. So, it's still Huda.
Rashida, like The Husband, prefers the name Lutfiah. But, heh, I'm pretty adamant about this. It's Huda, Huda, Huda!
The Husband made a slip yesterday. He said, "You know, when Huda grows up -"
I immediately cut in, "You said Huda? Yayyyyy!!!"
Then, he immediately went back to calling Huda Baby.
Bloggone
I started this blog last January.
And then, I promptly forgot that it existed.
Last month or so, I remembered this blog although I couldn't recall the name. When I finally did, I started updating this thing.
Now, I'm getting pretty tired of it.
Maybe it's Work. Maybe, Work is tiring me out so I barely have much reserves left to blog about stuff at the end of the Work day.
And then, I promptly forgot that it existed.
Last month or so, I remembered this blog although I couldn't recall the name. When I finally did, I started updating this thing.
Now, I'm getting pretty tired of it.
Maybe it's Work. Maybe, Work is tiring me out so I barely have much reserves left to blog about stuff at the end of the Work day.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
46.5
That's my weight. I'm a weight-watcher now.
I have finally gone beyond 45kg. My weight has always fluctuated between 42-44kg. In my first trimester, with all the vomiting and the inability to eat, I lost at least 3kg and was sub-40kg at one point in time. That was a horrid, horrid time. I was always weak and I found food and food smells so revolting. I would cover my nose if I had to walk past food stalls. If I could, I would avoid food stalls altogether. It helped that part of my first trimester fell during the fasting period. So, not eating was not a problem. Most of the time, for sahur, I'd have about 3 tablespoons of rice and when breaking fast, I'd just have a tiny portion of whatever that was available. That was all I could stomach. There were even times when I'd vomit my guts out immediately after eating, which just meant that I'd eaten nothing at all. Well, pregnancy's no bed of roses.
Now that I'm beginning my 24th week, things are a lot better than those first trimester days (which lasted right up to my 18th week). I remember the week after I was hospitalised - I was feeling so restless and listless. I felt like I needed to knock my head against the wall or pound my knees with a hammer. They were really strange thoughts and feelings. Then there were the insecurities I had about myself. *shakes head*
I juts hope that all these weird discomforts (that sounds like such an understatement) would not make a repeat appearance in my next pregnancy.
I intended to write more in this entry but am just too darn lazy to do it. This entry seems to be one long, rambling, pointless story anyway. So, I shall stop here.
I have finally gone beyond 45kg. My weight has always fluctuated between 42-44kg. In my first trimester, with all the vomiting and the inability to eat, I lost at least 3kg and was sub-40kg at one point in time. That was a horrid, horrid time. I was always weak and I found food and food smells so revolting. I would cover my nose if I had to walk past food stalls. If I could, I would avoid food stalls altogether. It helped that part of my first trimester fell during the fasting period. So, not eating was not a problem. Most of the time, for sahur, I'd have about 3 tablespoons of rice and when breaking fast, I'd just have a tiny portion of whatever that was available. That was all I could stomach. There were even times when I'd vomit my guts out immediately after eating, which just meant that I'd eaten nothing at all. Well, pregnancy's no bed of roses.
Now that I'm beginning my 24th week, things are a lot better than those first trimester days (which lasted right up to my 18th week). I remember the week after I was hospitalised - I was feeling so restless and listless. I felt like I needed to knock my head against the wall or pound my knees with a hammer. They were really strange thoughts and feelings. Then there were the insecurities I had about myself. *shakes head*
I juts hope that all these weird discomforts (that sounds like such an understatement) would not make a repeat appearance in my next pregnancy.
I intended to write more in this entry but am just too darn lazy to do it. This entry seems to be one long, rambling, pointless story anyway. So, I shall stop here.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Dry Mutton Bagged a Pimp
I'm getting sick of having to title each blog entry.
I want to talk about things which are totally unrelated.
1. The Bag I Bought
Lesson for everybody: Never buy something which you have seen for only 30 seconds but have been thinking about for 5 days ever since that 30-second encounter and therefore have been putting the object on a pedestal and thought it more beautiful than what it actually is. That was a very long, convoluted sentence but I am not going to bother trying to make it any clearer. Because I'm eeeeeeeeeeeevil. *thunder and lightning followed by evil laughter*
So, the bag turned out very normal-looking, not the off-white colour I thought it was but I bought it anyway because it was on a 20% discount. Let me tell you how much time I spent on my actual purchase: I stepped into Metro, saw the bag, put it on my shoulder, was approached by a sales staff, told that that was the last piece, didn't mind, went to counter, paid for purchase, went out of Metro. In total, I saw and touched the bag for about 1 and half minutes before I paid for it.
That is how I buy my things. Told ya I'm a lousy shopper.
2. The Pimp
There was a huge mother-of-all pimples on my forehead. It's been there since LAST YEAR. Would you believe such insolence?
It was drying there, high on my forehead, for all to see and ogle at.
One lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon, I was reading the papers and my itchy fingers had nothing better to do so they started to travel up my forehead and fiddled around with my pimple. Before I could stop my fingers, I could feel blood on my hands. Oh yes. My dear Pimp was just half the Pimp it once was. So, I had to flatten it.
Now, I have a red scar in the middle of my forehead. It's really lovely - only that it's at the wrong time. It would have been really apt for this to appear on Deepavali, not the eve of Hari Raya Haji.
3. Mutton
Why do I always feel that mutton is the less healthy alternative and beef is better? Is my thinking based on any sound scientific research? Or is it based on the smell of the sheep?
4. Dryer
I have gone and done it. I got myself a dryer from globalcreative.com.sg because I just can't stand the damp smell that clothes dried indoors have. I couldn't get a regular dryer because when stacked on top of the washing machine, it will block off the sunlight into the kitchen (not that I use the kitchen much).
The dryer that I got (which will only come on Wednesday), is portable and foldable. But, it will be a permanent fixture in my living room from December to February (or whenever the rainy season starts and ends). So, there shall be no guests to the house between this period.
Of course, there is a possibility that this purchase is similar to that mistake-of-the-century Turbo Tiger.
Therefore, in consultation with my siblings, we have agreed that should it fail to be as functional as it's supposed to be, I will use it to make kebab and dengdeng. Yum yum.
Okay. That is all that I have to write for now. I'm hungry and I feel like eating Sambal Goreng with Ketupat.
I want to talk about things which are totally unrelated.
1. The Bag I Bought
Lesson for everybody: Never buy something which you have seen for only 30 seconds but have been thinking about for 5 days ever since that 30-second encounter and therefore have been putting the object on a pedestal and thought it more beautiful than what it actually is. That was a very long, convoluted sentence but I am not going to bother trying to make it any clearer. Because I'm eeeeeeeeeeeevil. *thunder and lightning followed by evil laughter*
So, the bag turned out very normal-looking, not the off-white colour I thought it was but I bought it anyway because it was on a 20% discount. Let me tell you how much time I spent on my actual purchase: I stepped into Metro, saw the bag, put it on my shoulder, was approached by a sales staff, told that that was the last piece, didn't mind, went to counter, paid for purchase, went out of Metro. In total, I saw and touched the bag for about 1 and half minutes before I paid for it.
That is how I buy my things. Told ya I'm a lousy shopper.
2. The Pimp
There was a huge mother-of-all pimples on my forehead. It's been there since LAST YEAR. Would you believe such insolence?
It was drying there, high on my forehead, for all to see and ogle at.
One lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon, I was reading the papers and my itchy fingers had nothing better to do so they started to travel up my forehead and fiddled around with my pimple. Before I could stop my fingers, I could feel blood on my hands. Oh yes. My dear Pimp was just half the Pimp it once was. So, I had to flatten it.
Now, I have a red scar in the middle of my forehead. It's really lovely - only that it's at the wrong time. It would have been really apt for this to appear on Deepavali, not the eve of Hari Raya Haji.
3. Mutton
Why do I always feel that mutton is the less healthy alternative and beef is better? Is my thinking based on any sound scientific research? Or is it based on the smell of the sheep?
4. Dryer
I have gone and done it. I got myself a dryer from globalcreative.com.sg because I just can't stand the damp smell that clothes dried indoors have. I couldn't get a regular dryer because when stacked on top of the washing machine, it will block off the sunlight into the kitchen (not that I use the kitchen much).
The dryer that I got (which will only come on Wednesday), is portable and foldable. But, it will be a permanent fixture in my living room from December to February (or whenever the rainy season starts and ends). So, there shall be no guests to the house between this period.
Of course, there is a possibility that this purchase is similar to that mistake-of-the-century Turbo Tiger.
Therefore, in consultation with my siblings, we have agreed that should it fail to be as functional as it's supposed to be, I will use it to make kebab and dengdeng. Yum yum.
Okay. That is all that I have to write for now. I'm hungry and I feel like eating Sambal Goreng with Ketupat.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Bimbo Rabbit
Imagine a ribbon.
It has two rabbit ears and two tail ends, yes?
Now, I have a pair of shoes which has a ribbon on the front part (of each side).
For the right shoe, the rabbit ears will always get smaller and smaller which means that the tail ends will get longer and longer and touch the floor. I don't like anything other than the soles of my shoes touching the floor. So, often, I have to bend down and pull the rabbit ears so that the tail ends will not touch the floor.
You understand the situation so far? If you don't, you can stop reading now because it will just get more convoluted as I explain further.
For the life of me, I just can't tie ribbons properly. When other people tie ribbons, they'll get it to look so perfect. When I tie ribbons, the rabbit ears will be alternated with the tail ends, ie the two rabbit ears will be diagonally opposite each other and likewise for the tail ends. So, untying the ribbon on my right shoe to tighten it is not an option.
I was waiting for the bus yesterday (which took just about forever to appear) and realised that I had to pull the rabbit ears yet again.
In my sheer boredom, I decided that I should just pull the tail ends and tie the ribbon myself and make sure it's nice and taut.
Immediately after I pulled the tail ends and the ribbon was unravelled, I realised that I cannot tie a ribbon nicely.
The next thought that struck me sealed off the bimbo moment nicely.
I told myself, "Okay, Irah. Don't touch anything. We can always click Undo."
It has two rabbit ears and two tail ends, yes?
Now, I have a pair of shoes which has a ribbon on the front part (of each side).
For the right shoe, the rabbit ears will always get smaller and smaller which means that the tail ends will get longer and longer and touch the floor. I don't like anything other than the soles of my shoes touching the floor. So, often, I have to bend down and pull the rabbit ears so that the tail ends will not touch the floor.
You understand the situation so far? If you don't, you can stop reading now because it will just get more convoluted as I explain further.
For the life of me, I just can't tie ribbons properly. When other people tie ribbons, they'll get it to look so perfect. When I tie ribbons, the rabbit ears will be alternated with the tail ends, ie the two rabbit ears will be diagonally opposite each other and likewise for the tail ends. So, untying the ribbon on my right shoe to tighten it is not an option.
I was waiting for the bus yesterday (which took just about forever to appear) and realised that I had to pull the rabbit ears yet again.
In my sheer boredom, I decided that I should just pull the tail ends and tie the ribbon myself and make sure it's nice and taut.
Immediately after I pulled the tail ends and the ribbon was unravelled, I realised that I cannot tie a ribbon nicely.
The next thought that struck me sealed off the bimbo moment nicely.
I told myself, "Okay, Irah. Don't touch anything. We can always click Undo."
Another Attempt at Shopping
Today, I wanna go and get myself a decent handbag for work. I also need another nice-looking tote bag (similar to that of Harrods' plastic tote bag) should there be a need to bring extra work home. The realisation that a second bag is needed came yesterday when I decided to leave work early so that I could have ice cream with Yingchia and Ai Li and the only bag that Ai Li could give me was a crumpled old NTUC plastic bag. How absolutely glamorous - especially when I'm trying not to look like an Ah Soh. I don't want to get Harrods' bags though, unless I buy it from Knightsbridge. So, no Takashimaya-bought Harrods' bag for me, thank you very much.
Doesn't this just make me sound so snooty. Icks.
Still, I need a sturdy plastic tote bag which will not enhance my Ah Soh image. Of course, knowing how I'm such a failure at shopping, I don't harbour hopes of getting that sturdy plastic bag today. As for the handbag, I've already shortlisted what I want so it's just a matter of summoning enough strength on this cool rainy Saturday afternoon to get out of the house.
P.S.: In the past, I have always brought a big bag to work so I could stuff everything plus 10 chickens into my bag effortlessly. But this year, I've decided to look less of an Ah Soh and more of a working girl ergo, the tiny little handbag to work. Thus the need for another bag for everything else and the 10 chickens.
Doesn't this just make me sound so snooty. Icks.
Still, I need a sturdy plastic tote bag which will not enhance my Ah Soh image. Of course, knowing how I'm such a failure at shopping, I don't harbour hopes of getting that sturdy plastic bag today. As for the handbag, I've already shortlisted what I want so it's just a matter of summoning enough strength on this cool rainy Saturday afternoon to get out of the house.
P.S.: In the past, I have always brought a big bag to work so I could stuff everything plus 10 chickens into my bag effortlessly. But this year, I've decided to look less of an Ah Soh and more of a working girl ergo, the tiny little handbag to work. Thus the need for another bag for everything else and the 10 chickens.
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