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Had attempted to post over the weekend but efforts were wasted - not sure if this was due to typepad, home broadband connection or internal techno gizmo gizmo wizardry gone wrong. Whatever it is, picture of Bubba D under pirate hat together with some words now missing, floating randomly in cyberspace. A bit like how I felt, latter half of last week.

Demolition men

Just when I thought a challenge was overcome (finding the nose drops and making the changes to clear Bubba D's airways), life throws another one straight at me: this one is in the form of the Demolition Men.

2 weeks ago, our elderly neighbour Mrs Sim told us that she had sold her house and that she would be moving into her daughter's house soonish. Last friday, we saw the movers heave her entire household into containers and Mrs Sim disappearing into her daughters car (when she said soonish she really did mean SOON). Then on wednesday, a project manager from urban ateliers (or something that sounds just as flash) came a knocking on our door and told Ms Surprise that there would be a bit of renovation work taking place next door. He was aware that we have a newborn in the house and didnt want to surprise us. We thought right, a bit of work on a small terrace house -how bad can it be. Then yesterday at 9am, Bubba D, Ms Surprise and I found out just how EXTENSIVE (and LOUD) = BAD the reno work is.

Basically, they are tearing down the entire interior of the house, living only the shell to stand before rebuilding it all over again. Demolition men have been hired to pound the walls down and sledgehammer the floors away between 9-5 everyday (except sunday). This is expected to take 6-8 (read 12-16) days. The building work is expected to take 3-4 (read 6-8) months. OOOF. The nursery shares a wall with the neighbour. DOUBLE OOF. Our house is so narrow that even after moving Bubba D's cot into the furthest room (ie our bedroom) the pounding and hammering can be heard as though they are taking place right next to us. OOOOOOOOOOOF MAJORLY. The NOISE IS SO LOUD that they can be picked up by the baby monitor. OOOOOOOOFE*(&%$&^RAMA.

It feels like we are living in the middle of the building site.

Am now looking at service apartments to move into - at least whilst the demolition work is being carried out. But this being Singers, land of seminars, conferences and meetings, all of them (save super luxury suites) have been taken up. Suitable (read reasonable, friendly) hotels are just too difficult to get at this late stage (amazing how fully booked hotels are). Not sure if we could get into the per hour hotels (Bubba D's cries would definitely kill all notion of romance haha) but am going to call them up to find out! Am also considering quiet cafes and bookshops that Bubba D and I can park ourselves in. If we werent living in a bloody hot/humid country, the park would be an easy option. But we are (damnit).

We're also looking at heading up to Ma and Pa Avis's in KL for the week. The only thing is we still have to sort out Bubba D's papers (we have the passport but dont have the dependency pass which he needs to go in and out of Singers) and we dont know how long this will take. Heading to the government office tomorrow to find out if they would be willing to do a swiftie considering the circumstances.

In the interim, I have resorted to putting cotton wool in Bubba D's ears.

If anyone has got any suggestions on alternative plan(s) of action that can be taken (apart from hiring the Demolition Man to take out the Demolition Men)?

Beautiful once

In Malay culture, post delivery, the new mum is required to undergo 'confinement' for 44 days. During this time, mum and bubba are expected to stay within the confines of the house so that they can both recover from the vigours of labour. It is also normal practice for the Malay household to procure the services of a 'confinement lady' (CL) to oversee mum and bubba at this time. The CL (typically ancient and very fierce) would then stay with the family (or visit daily) to provide mum with Malay treatment (which includes bath, massage, wrap and suitably healthy food) and bathe and wrap/swaddle the new bub.

Loads of people I know in La Malaysie have CL looking after them. On top of these oh so strict strict CL, they also have their own mothers/mother in laws hovering over their shoulders providing tips on the things they should be doing (to themselves and their bubbas) and tsk tsk tsking should they walk too quickly (horror if they were to go up and down the stairs!), eat the wrong food (veges/fruities deemed cold), wash their hair, and not wear socks day and night (body needs to be heated internally to aid reparation and failure to do so will lead to old frail body in later years).

LUCKY then that I do not have one of those CL staying with us. Nor do I have a Malay Mother In Law. Or an old fashion Mum staying with us. Which means am able to go up and down the stairs as many times as I need to, wander around the house with and without sockaroos and wash my hair whenever I feel like. And for my sins I will probably suffer in my 90s ; )

xxx

Having said that, I did however have a masseuse come to the house to provide me with 10 sessions of 2 hourly traditional Malay Post Natal Massage spanned over a period of 2 weeks. It was painful but goood. She pressed, kneaded and slathered all sorts of herbs and spices on me before wrapping me up silly in 1.5 metres of blue tartan cloth which I had to keep on overnight. I swear its because of her that my water retention is (almost?) sorted and my body feels lighter than it has ever been in the past 6 months.

xxx

The Masseuse is indeed talented. She is not just gifted with an extraordinary sense of feel and touch but also of some serious gab. Suffice to say post the 10 sessions I not only feel like I know her life history but also that of her siblings, her spouse and her spouse's siblings (beat that!)

xxx

During the 9th Session, Masseuse Extraordinare (ME) spotted a portrait picture of me dolled up and asked me who that was. I laughed and said, oh that is actually me though I know it doesnt actually look like me normally. I also told her that mum liked the picture so much she had it enlarged framed and insisted we put it out for display downstairs but that I was too embarrassed to do so and that is why its shoved in the corner of the bedroom.

She went ooh aah. wow I dont blame her for loving the picture. You looked gorgeous, like a model here. If you didnt tell me it was you, I would not for a minute have worked it out... not at all what you look like now. I suppose its just as well that you have that picture here in your bedroom. At least now, you can look at it daily and think, never mind, I was beautiful once.

xxx

!?!
and that &^@* Tom Cruise reckons that post partum blues are self inflicted?!

lost and found

yesterday was quite a day. not only is work still hectic but the wedding #3 and 4 countdown pace has inexorably picked up. 

whilst waiting for mrs scott at lunchtime, noticed 4th finger to be bare of wedding band. mad blind panic. not only have i managed to lose the ring within 6 months of marriage, but have also done so days before we need it again (and again!) wondered how to explain to MIL who told me that in her 30(?) years of marriage, she only took off her band once and that was because she was forced to at her sculpting class and how upset she was too.  crickey and there i was slipping it on off on off at spas, manicure, bathroom visits etc. the last being on sat morning when tonto and i were at the jentayu spa. could i have lost it then? but recalled putting it back on and hearing words of MIL as i did. could it have been when i was busy bee trying out 100 backup dresses at klcc? or is it in the wadrobe somewhere when i was busy looking for shawl to drape on the outfit, on the bed where was fitfully sleeping, in the sink where my toiletries are being organised, at the garden where my half attempts at weeding were postponed due to concerns about the music list?

wondered whether it was an omen (oh no) but felt reassured after finding out mr. scott has technically lost his ring twice (though found the second one) and know that mr and mrs scott together with bubba scoot are happy as can be and therefore loss of ring bears no portent to state of marriage.

rushed home to hunt for missing valuable. turned bedroom inside out.  was working the bathroom when chanced on newly procured bodyshop bathing gloves. pounced on 4th finger and voila found it found found it. phew.

thank heavens for this.

am now paranoidly looking at finger every 3minutes to make sure its still there. people at work are starting to think that am smug married or acquiree of new nervous tic.

xxxx

ps: HUGE thanks to those who have left comments/emailed/called to wish me good luck for the no3 and no4 wedding. sorry i havent managed to send return your call/reply emails etc. i cannot log on to yahoo from work and have difficulty replying from home these days because  the connection is tooooo slow and i have gazillion of things to deal with at the moment but yes, i do appreciate all your thoughts and best wishes.

pss: Zim is on the front page of this week's Guardian weekly. I said to SFM yday surely now that its made so much news globally, somethings will change for the better. He is not too sure as its been going on for a while.  I guess he was feeling tired, normally he's ever so optimistic that the country will turn itself around. May the people there continue to have the courage to fight for what is right.

The KL Taxi driver

i was required to attend a very important meeting last week at 1530hrs.  to ensure that i got to the meeting on time, i arranged for a taxi to take me there. the taxi and driver are regulars hired by the company i work for and they very often ferry me around the city for meetings. 

45minutes before the meeting, as i got into the car, i discovered that the regular driver was not able to make the journey and in his place was a mate who was covering for him. the replacement bloke was very chatty.  we spoke about the tough conditions in KL and how little taxi drivers make.  he was very happy to be able to take on the job as he had not made enough for the day and the company was a generous paymaster (they pay per hour).  he also told me about his daily schedule, his kids and their schooling.

he dropped me off and said he would wait for me in the building till i was ready to head back. the meeting ended at 1830hrs. i was exhausted and decided to head home straight instead of heading back to the office. style doyenne who conducted the meeting offered to give me a lift. 

i went out to inform the driver that he could leave for the day and to invoice me for the 3hrs of wait. as i took my briefcase out from his car, he slipped two pink/red papers into the side of my case and said, heres something for you to look at.  i caught a glimpse of the word 'marriage' and 'happiness' and thought  oh how nice a phamplet on how to have a successful marriage. i smiled sweetly at him and said oh thank you, thank you very much.

i cleared my case of junk and organised it yesterday. i found the phamplets. and YES the title does say happiness and marriage. but inside it says:  sensation oil and creams; ring vibrator, vacuum pump, v-gin lotion, v-gin drink and bodylicious medication. complete with description of what they do and testimonials of those who had purchased.  at the bottom of the phamplet under the title of representative agent was his name, the replacement driver.

i am seriously considering taking the bus from now on.

junkie

that decision to juggle-and-balance tomes as opposed to stack-them-orderly-in-box during the warehouse sale was obviously the wrong wrong wrong one, for my back has been suffering since. (i do have a weak back but lately its become ridiculously weak).

the ache from my back has travelled down all to way to my ankle and the only way to relieve the pain is to either raise my legs so that they are higher than my head, or to swallow lots of painkillers (on top of my antihistamines). given that these are busy days at work, the latter is the only real option available.

sigh.  i should really get back into yoga.

the mad and the bad

As most of my mates know, I hardly ever watch tele and am v ignorant of the happenings in the celebrity world. My only pipeline to the latter is Azuredec; old magazines at the hairdressers; and articles commenting on recent star events in the Guardian Weekly or Guardian online. 

Hence I do know who Shilpa Shetty (thanks Guardian weekly) is but am not familiar with Jane Goody.

Do know who Britney is, aware that she walked out on Fed-ex and became Paris Hilton's NBF (thanks to Dec Heat) read in Jan but did not know about her baring her bottom and falling out with Paris (thanks Azuredec). 

Am aware that Kylie and Olivier is no more after 3 years and that Olivier is rumoured to be romancing 2 dishy brunettes on the same day (thanks Guardian Online).

Its a mad bad world out there.

xxx

Talking of mad and bad, six months ago SFM and I were caught up by the series 24, purchased at a good dvd shop near us.  not wanting to be addicted to serial shows, we rationed one episode per one 'nothing happening' weekday evenings.  We got through the first season in 3 months, had enough of Mr and the late Mrs Bower afterwards and decided not to venture into the 2nd season.

Our lives without any tele watching resumed.

Then about 2.5 months ago,  SFM got a-talking to my younger brother azle rose who highly recommended Prison Break. On the way to Jozy, instead of watching The last kiss , a film about 30year olds facing middle life crisis and commitment issues, he decided to opt for the pilot episode of Prison Break, a series about shorn haired men trying to break out of hell.  On the way back from Jozy, SFM managed to convince me to watch Prison Break and he watched The Last Kiss. Interestingly enough,SFM was cringing and hiding behind his hands much more  during the flight home, than the journey to.

We decided to purchase Season 1 of Prison Break when we got back.  We started viewing the series shortly after and sad to report, we are now hooked on it. Last friday night,  we broke the rationing rule and watched 3 series back to back.  We were so disgusted with ourselves that we didnt watch another series till last night.

We have got over our selfabasement. However,  now after watching the episode where schofield burns his back where the tattoo for plan B rests, our disgust is targeted at the producers of the show for draaaagging the show; for coming up with all sorts of obstacles and worst of all for keeping us hooked even after 3 dvds.  (3 more to go).

Damnit.

Hectic city

Spent 80% of the weekend attending a marriage course in town - to obtain the much sought after attendance certificate that would enable us to apply to get hitched.  sat in a classroom with 9 other couples listening to the challenges faced by married folks.  the social, physical, financial minefields ... areas of potential conflict that could be made more complex with cultural issues thrown in. 

yeowzers i was thinking.  how well  i know it. and how much i have talked and discussed 'issues' with sunflower man so that e-v-e-r-ything is out in the open: dosh priorities, our expectations of each other, family expectations, sunflower kiddies (should they come into the picture) not being fed sweets nor fastfood, geographical location, etc etc etc.

praying hard that we've covered all contentious areas and all will be well.

xxx

there is quite a lot of red tape to get through in this getting married malarkey.

amongst others, the need to get a letter from the embassy stating that he is single and that there is no impediment for him to get married here.  in order for him to get that letter, SFM first has to make a statutory declaration that he is single, submit this document and pay RM295 (41quid!)

then the embassy issues a letter (a standard document they say with a sigh which has been accepted by the marriage registration department) which i kid you not, states:

"Mr. Sunflower man  has stated to me that he intends to undergo a marriage ceremony with Ms Rara Avis and has been requested to obtain a statement to the effect that the embassy has no objection to the proposed marriage.  He also stated to us that he is single and never been married before.

I certify that this office has no authority to issue such statements nor does it have authority to issue certificates of No Impediment in connection with local marriages.

I should therefore be grateful if you could provide the necessary assistance to Mr. Sunflowerman to enable him to contract his marriage in Malaysia."

We were hysterical when we read the letter, we were even more hysterical when the officials nodded their head in seriousness and ticked off 'letter from the embassy" of the required documents list.

xxx

we also have to obtain letter of approval from the immigration department since SFM is a foreign citizen - a law introduced only recently. and so we drove like maniacs all the way to Putrajaya (the new adminstrative capital built because we do not have enough space in the city of KL for government buildings haha) during lunch time . one foot meddling the pedal, two minds boggling at the sheer grandiose of the place and wondering how much it must have cost.

we were very lucky that the queues were not long and that the Man In Charge seemed to know what he was doing.

not so lucky when he decided that the letter from the embassy was not sufficient

very lucky when he grudgingly accepted it after we told him it was standard format and that we had paid FOURTY QUID = TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY FIVE RINGGIT for it.

not so lucky when he said we needed passport pictures and SFM didnt have one.

very lucky when we found out that there was a shop 2km drive away which could do instant passport pictures.

not so lucky when he said he needed my divorce certificate.

very lucky when ma and pa avis could fax the document directly to them from their home.

not so lucky when he said we both had to drive back to Putrajaya in 3 days to collect the document. but perhaps an arrangement could be made.

sooo very lucky that we do not understand backhand codewords and were effusive in thanking him for his kindness and understanding.

not so lucky for the couple next to us who understood the nudge nudge wink wink language and thus forked out some dosh to get their letter within the day...

so lucky that we could drive home with the letter in our hands and not have to worry about going back there again.

not so lucky when Man In Charge called me  on my mobile phone from his mobile phone, outside his office,  later in the day to ask me why i was marrying a 'foreigner' for the second time and not a Malaysian; asked me whether I was a contract bride? and pestered me for information on when the wedding was, where it was going to be and then wanted to chit-chat.

Suffice to say, SFM is more amazed than I am with all of this. 

Lets call it cultural differences.  Unfortunately for me, my culture today consists of severely underpaid backhander requestors who most times also happen to be sleazoids -  resting against the backdrop of wide boulevards and majestic buidlings.

xxx

a sty in my eye

can you believe it?  i have a sty in my eye!  it hurts like mad; is ugly to look at and has  had negative impact on my social life ! (have i covered all the punctuations in a sentence?)

it surfaced on monday morning: just before the start of grandprix and bang on the day sunflowerman arrives on these shores after being away for 3 weeks.  only my luck to appear as missy stycyclops and remind him of what he's moved across oceans for. sigh

its only wednesday but it has been a looooooooooooooong week. the days are short but the nights seem to be very long - suspect this is due to my hiding in darkness, behind the comforts of my burberry shades (which by the way i have been informed is a fashion faux paux thanks to essex woman (i cant remember name of but that one who had to have her nose reconstructed after having too much coke) who wore burberry from head to toe and caused all posh totties to denounce burberry)  be it office, restaurant or home.

worst is the looks i have been receiving by others in the mall and the chuckles emanating from restauranteurs as they ask whether madame is ok today after the late night out?

roll on sunday and sty i say...

think pink

the exam was gruesome.

i thought i knew how to calculate ratios until i  saw  the paper.sigh
so much for understanding formulas, my scratchings on bond yields werent too hot. though i reckon may have cracked the  annuity in perpetuity calculation.

xxx

post paper, cheered self up by signing  my soul  away in a cakehouse.
i didnt pay for the  cup of coffee but nevertheless  bought into the capitalist system today.
all 178.368square metres of it. gulp.

xxx

my new-ish scanner is peeving me off. it casts a pink light on to every damn thing i scan. i have tried to google for a solution but find no-thing.  except 2 others afflicted without an answer.

abit like that damn  exam  really...