Ok, this is going to be grousey post so you should skip down to the lovely pictures below if you want to preserve your good vibrations.
If not, you've been warned.
The speaker phone is one of mankind's most horrific mistakes. Users of the aforementioned agent of evil first dial a number, then sit back while enjoying the repeated purr of the ringtone. Then as soon as they hear someone answering and expressing a polite greeting, these inconsiderate users pick up their receiver and rudely INTERRUPT the person on the other line with a brash,
"Hello? Hello?"
This is utterly unacceptable behavior of barbaric proportions.
I can't count the number of times I've had to repeat my greeting simply because I was cut off in mid-sentance. Firstly, no one likes to be interrupted. Secondly, no one likes to repeat themselves. And finally, everyone hates it when both occur back to back. Trust me on this.
So if you are one of those people who have to endure a speaker phone on your desk or at home, and are forced to use it at gun-point, please WAIT for the other person to finish speaking before responding.
If not, simply pick up the receiver BEFORE dialing. Somehow that makes a world of difference.
They look like the trail of an aircraft.
Photo op!
Here, a rusted bicycle is chained forlornly to a lamp post.
Can you spot it?
My dad was allowed to return home yesterday afternoon. Thank you all for your prayers, visits and generous gifts during his hospitalization.
However, he has to return for 2 more follow up appointments to ensure that there are no unwanted aftermath effects. And it will be another few weeks before he fully recovers, too.
He's resting and picking up where he left off on his reading and violin-playing. I'm sure it's a nice treat after staring at the twirling fan on the ceiling for a week!
It was really raining cats and dogs in the late afternoon today. I was waiting in the car for my mom so we could visit dad in the hospital and I decided to snap some shots of the deluge to pass the time.
As it turned out, every picture was a unique work of melancholic "art" (I'm using this term very liberally here). With each water rivulet running down the window, a new texture and form was created in every misty shot. Here are some of my favorites:
What do you do when an exam's over? Well, DUH, you celebrate!
And in case you're trying to avoid reading what the description of the ice-cream is, here it is for you so you know precisely what you're missing right now:
Fudge-covered, peanut butter-filled pretzels in Vanilla ice-cream with Fudge & Peanut Butter
*goes into sugar overdose from just typing that*
I made a horrific discovery in the bathroom today. I realized my temples seemed unnecessarily 'spacious' in the mirror - which lead me to conclude that male pattern baldness has finally started to work its dreaded curse.
*stifle sob*
Well, I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later (though much, much later would have been greatly prefered).
*fatalistic sigh*
I wonder if it has anything to do with my bouts of insomnia?
A few days ago I posted a little entry while waiting for my racing mind to let sleep take over. And I'm sure everyone has 'enjoyed' tossing and turning during the unearthly hours of the morning at some time in their lives. Unfortunately, that seems to happen on a fairly regular basis for me now.
But who really knows? It could be anything from my diet to the tension of my glasses on the sides of my head to pure genetics.
Guess the bottomline is I'd better brace myself for an ebbing hairline over time.
*stoic tear glistening down cheek*
I'm ok, really. I can handle this...
I've mentioned in an earlier post about my American lecturer for the Romans class that was just concluded. One day he was sharing with the class about how complex names from different cultures can be a source of confusion for him. The other Caucasian in the class, a British gentleman who's married to a Singaporean Chinese, suddenly quipped:
British Guy: Well, I have a Chinese name.
Wide-eyed-in-warm-surprise-and-anticipation everyone: Oh, really?!
Earnest British Guy: Yes, my sirname is 'Foo'.
Warming-up-to-the-revelation everyone: Oh, that's so interesting!
British Guy: And my Chinese name is 'Ling-you'.
Enthusiastic everyone: Cool! Did your wife give you that name?
Deadpan British Guy: So I'm Foo Ling-you.
Clueless everyone: How did you come abou...
Grinning smugly British Joker: ...
Suddenly-catching-it everyone: !!!
** ** ** ** ** ** **
After the initial gasp of realization, we all broke out into collective peals of laughter at having been taken for ride! It was a corny ride (I was especially miffed at being out-cornied), but a fun one nonetheless.
And you all thought the kind of people who would study Romans would be witlessly serious, didn't you?
My dad's week-long fever had not subsided and the sudden outbreak of a red rash all over his body caused some alarm for my mom and I. So last evening, at 7:30pm, I drove him to Changi General Hospital for a blood test at the A&E. It wasn't long before we could see someone who asked a load of questions to determine the potential direction his symptoms pointed towards. Then my dad was assigned a number, and after another short wait, he was called up.
This time, the doctor (or at least I think she was a doctor) took a blood sample while asking him similar questions. She sent the blood sample for a test immediately. In the meantime we were to wait for the results. My dad was given a bed in the observation room where he was able to rest with other patients who were also 'in-limbo'. 
I had 90 mins before the test results came back. My mom stayed with dad so I took off to grab dinner and went home to pick up my notes for the Romans exam. I called her before heading back to the hospital and was told that they were ready to admit him - the prognosis was dengue.
From the observation room they transferred my dad to the ward. Most of the patients there were already asleep. A very pleasant and pretty nurse took charge, asked him nearly the same set of questions from before (!) while prepping him for the doctor assigned to the floor or ward.
"He'll be here very soon", she soothingly assured us.
It was about 10:30pm when he arrived. The doctor looked like he just stepped out of his JC uniform into the sky blue scrubs (maybe it was the dim and flattering lighting)! But he did some tests and, get this, asked my dad the exact same questions the nurses just moments earlier had gone over in cheery detail.
That made it, what, the fourth time that evening?
"Why don't you get the form that nice nurse just filled out and look through it?", I wanted to blurt out but didn't, of course.
Admittedly, I don't know anything about how a hospital should be run so maybe it's standard protocol to distract the patient by getting him/her to repeat themselves over and over.
Eventually, the doctor turned to us and filled us in on his diagnosis. Yes, it's dengue and they will have to continue to monitor dad's blood platelet count while keeping him on a drip to bring down the fever. Mr "does-your-mother-know-you're-out-so-late?" closed his file with a resounding clap and gathered his things before striding off to his next case.
We made sure my dad was comfortable (well, as could be possible) before leaving. When we got back I took a quick shower and settled down to begin my revision. The time was close to midnight.
I was worried for my dad, and also for my mom. She had been taking care of him the past week and was starting to come down with the flu and a bad cough herself. I knew that she wouldn't be able to rest if my dad had not been admitted to the hospital.
"I'm supposed to take the final exam in the morning! But I can't concentrate!"
I wrestled with the frustration at the bad timing of the bottle-necked events and the guilt of putting petty acadamia above my parents' well-being. The usual string of 'what-if's' played out in my melodramatic mind and coupled with my body's clamour for rest, I found it harder and harder to focus on what I was reading. By 1am, my eyelids felt like lead and I drifted off to an uneasy sleep.
I awoke at 6am to a swelling sensation of horror. The night is nearly over! I read what I could of my notes through bleary eyes before preparing to meet my doom.
"Oh well," I resigned, "not getting an A isn't the end of the world."
And really, in the big scheme of things, it isn't. My instructor overheard me talking about my dad's condition, found out about what happened the night before and graciously asked if I wanted to take the exam another time. A big weight rolled off my cramped shoulders.
In the afternoon, I spoke to my dad on the phone and he told me he felt a little better. The restful afternoon also did my mom good.
I am very thankful for how things turned out. And at the end of the day, it turns out to be the well-being of a loved one that always weighs heavily on the mind.
Shame it usually takes an illness or crisis to bring that thought to the forefront where it rightfully belongs.
It's happening again - past midnight and I'm still wide awake, staring at the computer screen.
My mind is teeming with incessant random thoughts. It nearly drowns out the soothing low murmur of the ceiling fan above me.
Was it something I ate earlier?
My body is tired. I need to be up just after sunrise, but willing myself to sleep simply has the unintended effect. I just have to let my mind grow tired of soaking in the dark shadows surrounding me.
In the meantime, I try not to let my thoughts corner me into panic. Good night.
when all around is darkness
when all around is naught
then the soul can contemplate
the soul can contemplate
when all around is quiet
when all around is still
then the soul can shed a tear
the soul can shed a tear
for the colors and the textures
in the circus of our life
tug at every corner of our heart
and of our mind
we grasp them close so forcefully
to dull the sting of truth -
that these trinkets we so cherish
will one day slip right through
when all around is frozen
when all around is clear
then the soul can learn to heal
the soul can learn to heal
when all around is timeless
when all around is truth
then the soul can learn true peace
the soul can learn true peace
The course on the book of Romans has been pretty interesting thus far. We are at the mid-point of the course but less than a third through the book; mostly because the poor harrassed lecturer feels compelled to thoroughly field each and every question and comment posed by inquiring minds.
The lecturer is a young graduate from seminary in the US. I call him young because he's my age *smirk* It was his birthday today so after we surprised him with an impromptu birthday song during the first break of the morning, he was forced to divulge how old he was.
Going back to the course, it's great, of course, to be able to put what we merely read off the text into contemporary application almost immediately. Unfortunately that also slows the study of the book down by a fair bit. At this point, it looks like we're not going to be able to finish the book with the careful attention to detail that we started so fervently with. 
Still, there is undeniable value in that what we've covered has really helped to bring certain elements of the Christian faith into sharper focus for me and to blatantly confront me with the choice of anchoring on solid rock or sinking sand. Perhaps up till this point, only one foot of mine has been emphatically planted on the Rock.
I can appreciate why my pastor is so supportive of continuing education for without it one eventually hits a spiritual plateau and stagnates. This is true of all Christians, but especially so for those actively involved in the ministry as it takes a lot of emotional energy and spiritual sensitivity to rally those around them to keep pressing on.
Ultimately, this road will lead me one step closer to home. And for that I'm truly grateful.
Me: Good afternoon, _______ church.
Caller: Yeah hi. Can I inquire as to the price of your smallest fish tank pump?
Jaw-on-the-floor-Me: ...
Caller: I mean, if you know off the top of your head.
Trying-to-come-up-with-something-witty-Me: Erm, this is... a church.
Very-apologetic-Caller: Oh! Oh my, I'm so sorry!
Me: Haha, it's ok.
Caller: Can I check if the number I dailed is the right one?
Me: Sure.
Caller: Er, 12345678?
Me: Yep that's the one. But sorry, this is a church. No fish tank pumps here!
Caller: So sorry about that.
Me: No problem!
Caller: Thank you. Bye.
Me: Bye.
** ** ** ** ** **
That put a smile on my face.
German food has never been my thing. I've eaten at German restaurants before and my impression of their cuisine has always been mediocre. I don't mean I think poorly of German fare but its general taste and presentation doesn't give me the sense that German food is varied and exciting.
Well, until last Thursday.
The Paulaner Munchen (just don't ask me to pronounce it!) Restaurant and Brewery is located at Millenia Walk anchoring the strategic corner of its restaurant alley. If you make it past the cramped layout on the ground floor where the bar is, you'll be handsomely rewarded as you enter the dining area one flight of steps up where a spacious and sprawling space cheerily welcomes you.
I know you are simply dying to know what the munchies are like so I won't keep you in nerve-wrecking suspense anymore!
What you see on the right is an exquisitely presented starter of succulent grilled mackeral on fancy greens. The pesto sauce and the juice of a lemon wedge that's drizzled over it adds some zing to each bite of tender fish and crunchy veges. It's almost a complete meal in itself if not for the fact that consuming this only makes you very hungry for more.
This brings me to the main course. I ordered a large German sausage (bratwurst) that was twirled invitingly on the plate like a cinnamon roll. This was perfectly accompanied by a rich mushroom gravy and fragrantly grilled shredded potatoes (whose name irritatingly escapes me at the moment). Can you see how delicious this is!? 
It doesn't sound or even look like much but it was fairly substantial because of its richness. And any consummate foodie would caution that after a terrific start to the meal, one has to be careful not to overeat during the main course or face the dire consequences of having to, heaven forbid, pass over dessert - the undisputed point of any meal, right?
I like being adventurous with desserts, but if apple pie (or crumble) is tantalizingly beckoning from the menu I find it nearly impossible to resist. How anyone can say no to apple desserts is beyond me. Anyway, this particular apple pie had a very unique crispy crust. Besides the generous scoop of the always reliable vanilla ice-cream, the moist and tart baked apples were also drenched in sweet vanilla cream with crushed pistachios. I didn't know what was right or wrong anymore when this was set down in front of me.
*trance*
Fortunately, concepts like calories, sin, fat...etc all fade conveniently away into oblivion during the savoring of such a delightful pleasure. Guilt and desserts are simply not meant to exist side by side.
The only gripe I had with such a heavenly close to the meal was that it was a trifle too sweet overall. But it couldn't lessen the enjoyment of a meal so well prepared and appreciated.
The tastebuds say, gimme gimme gimme gimme more, more, more!
But, sigh, the waistline looks a tad prosperous. Who's up for a grueling game of badminton?
(edit: it's rosti! the name for the shredded potatoes hit me about half an hour after posting! phew, now I can sleep in peace)
I had several things happen to me since last week which would make for great blog fodder, but of course, as it so happens, some unknown technical glitch is preventing me from posting them in full glorious detail.
To clarify, it's not that I am completely unable to post anything (as evidenced by this entry) but that I am unable to post anything properly if I am including pictures. In other words,
pure text = good
pictures and text = no good.
Got it?
So I'll just have to make do with the power of words to paint you a vibrant myriad of colors and textures of the eventful moments from the past 7 days.
First off, there was an attempt on my life but I managed to escape with only slight injuries. I was the last one leaving the church and one of the things you gotta do is to lock up. So while closing the ramp gate, my heel got caught under the metal bar and basically tore a flap of skin off. Ouch! Thankfully there was no blood but the injured spot was raw and naturally left a big angry bruise.
The fun part came whenever I had to wear shoes because the added pressure on my heel would make the wound sting and I ended up compensating for it by walking in a weird way to alleviate the pain. I don't think anyone noticed; but then again, that might mean people are used to me walking in a weird way - which is not too good.
Ok so that was what the foiled assasination attempt was about (yes I'm being overly dramatic, I know).
Now all of you know that I'm course this week at ABTS, right? So yesterday morning I'm all ready to leave the house and raring to go to get some knowledge and all that jazz. I put on my shoes, like I always do, said good-bye to mom and walked to the door. I reached out to turn the knob and froze. In my left shoe, it felt like my sock had bunched up at the bottom, which is strange since I had just worn them. So anyway, I wriggled my foot a little and the sensation was gone.
Good, I thought.
Then as I shifted my weight back to the left foot, the same feeling returned. This time, I moved my foot inside my shoe more deliberately and the bump seemed to move from left to right.
Great, I fumed, there's something alive in my shoe with my foot in it.
So I sat down again, ignoring my mom's bewildered expression and took off the left shoe. I peered into it with a sense of dread and there sat a big fat cockroach. Every muscle in my body gripped for a torturous second as I fought the urge to scream and fling myself out of the nearest window.
The moment passes.
Very calmly, I shook that big black bug out and it dropped out of my shoe, not dead, but seemingly stunned (or maybe appalled). I guess I would be too if I had just been rudely half squished by a foot 10 times my size.
So anyway, I didn't want this little buggy saga to make me late (you remember how I am about punctuality) and I quickly left after wearing the same shoe that temporarily housed the ill-fated cockroach. However for the rest of the day, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was another cockroach or lizard or something inside both my shoes! It was awful, really. It was pretty hard to stay focused in class because of that. I should have just worn sandals and given the injury to my heel as an excuse if anyone complained.
So the moral of this story is - if it's not a foot, keep it out of your shoes.
Ok so I lied about the "colorful events" from the past week. Nothing else has been that out of the ordinary. The class at ABTS on the book of Romans is currently going well. I'll post more on that after it ends next week and if I survive the readings and exams. *sigh*
Also, when blogger.com finally fixes the bug (no pun intended) I'll be able to post a mini-review which includes tantalizing pictures of an excellent lunch from last week. I hope you all like German food.
Stay tuned!