Loving Michael

I first saw him when I was 7. We were watching telly and some sort of a concert or an awards ceremony or it was just a video clip was on. This lad was singing “Beat It ! Beat It !”, dancing and striking poses with his posses. His dance moves seemed different and vastly superior even to my untrained eyes. I was memerised.

The next day went across the street to a neighbour’s house and there he was again, Beat It-ing and again I could not avert my eyes.

So that was when I saw him. And fell in love with him and his dancing and his very unique songs. I last bought his album last year, a collection of his number ones. I was surprised that Man In The Mirror wasn’t in it, meaning it had never reached number 1 in the charts. Funny because it is my absolute favourite.

No, wait. I think I Just Can’t Stop Loving You is my favourite. Nope… I think Thriller. No, no I am sure it is Smooth Criminal or maybe Dirty Diana.

No lah, The Way You Make Me Feel…

Hmmm….

So hard to chose, ain’t it ?

When he came over here, I was in no position to go. I had wanted to but I can’t, hoping that he would come again although when people started fainting before he even came I had a nasty feeling that he wouldn’t make it t our shores again. I was right.

He then started to look funny, changing his nose and the colour of his skin and he looked ghastly. I remember a picture of him with Debbie Rowe. Dear Debbie was smiling prettily, glowing with maternal pride. He was next to her, holding her bump and looking like a skeleton with eyeliner around his ridiculous looking eyes.

That was Bad.


But I love him still as who can dance and sing like him ?

Who had the talent to perform like him ? Who can entertain like him ?

Who can make me pee in my pants just in anticipation of seeing him on the telly ?

Sure there are better singers with superior vocal chords, but can they entertain like him, the inventor of moon walk ?

If say, the Fresh Prince lifted his leg then strike a pose with one hand on his belly and the other one extended, he would look ridiculous. But darling Michael looked smashing. Even his twirls are special.

Who could wear white socks and got away with it ? Who indeed ? Those glittery outfits and the hair and the sarung tangan sebelah. His penchant for militiray style clothes and well.... On other people it would look funny but on him, it screamed class and style.

To me, one of the most erotic and sweetest video clip was of him and his then wife Lisa Presley in You Are Not Alone. I don’t know why but that clip was amazing. He was sweet and oh so loving and she was beautiful with… he he… creamy shoulders. It was heartbreaking especially if you watch it after the child molestations allegations and the questions over his sexuality. The clip became more poignant when he became a recluse and disappeared from public view.

Nobody can confirm that he is Muslim. And it looks like even if he had converted, it is with The Nation of Islam which I heard aren’t allowed in Tanah Haram as they are not accepted as Muslims. Allahualam as only Allah knows best.

Whatever it is, we will only know in Akhirat. I hope when we are finally admitted to Jannah, he will be there to entertain us, much worthy than all the concerts that we have missed. I really hope he left this world as my brother.

Love you, Michael.

PS : My mom will surely say, “Kalau masuk syurga, dah nampak Malaikat, dah nampak Rasullulah, dah nampak nabi-nabi lain, tak daknya hang teringat kat Michael Jackson tu…”

“Dak !!! Sure ingat punya… !”

Keh keh…

More than meets the eyes... but the eyes went to the loo...

Waaaargggghhh !! Transformers best giler !!

Help ! Help ! I have to see it again.

I have to because it was that good. Adrenalin pumping, tear inducing. Action packed but with loads of emotions. Heh !

Also I have to watch it again because I couldn’t hold my bladder. Must be all that tea from morning. Valiantly tried to hold on but can’t concentrate. So rushed to the loo. Ran back to the theater and bumped into other people sprinting towards and from the loo, too ! Lekaih ! Lekaih ! Yah ! Yah !

Came back and saw Optimus Prime got knifed by Megatron then fell and died ! Optimus !! He looked so handsome 5 minutes into the movie when the more realistic, also equally delicious Josh Duhamel barked on his walkie talkie, “Release (or drop) the Big Buddha !” The back of a heli opened and there goes my handsome Optimus Prime, dropping in on the scene, killing the orang jahat in mere minutes.

Then, 30 minutes after that, he is dead ? What ? Eyes bulging, hands gripping my husband’s toned arms (they are quite delicious too, those arms) when, “Mummy ! I want to wee wee.. !”

Ha ? Biar benor ? Alahai… why the girl ? If the boy then Babah can take him, but it was the girl so I have to. So unfair. I just went.

Ran with her to the loo, ran back and immediately got caught up with it again. The bombs and the rain of bullets and the …. It was wonderful. My very limited vocabulary cannot, cannot describe it.

So now, I have to go again because, I have like a 15 minutes gap that I have to fill.

Am going without the children.

And will go to the loo 1 minute before it starts.

And no drinks whatsoever.

Or maybe will wear adult pampers… just in case.

Must have a good think.

Pembantu rumah..

I still have a few food induced memories to share but I was blog hopping just now (since kengkawan ku malasnya nak update blog !!!) and found this seriously funny one. Funny aside, this lady talked about government’s proposal to give maids 1 day off every week (my mom never use the word orang gaji, she always either say maid or pembantu saya... I should learn..) and her opposition to it.

Hmm….. I give my maid 2 days off every week. Saturday morning before I send my kiddies to piano class, I will send her to her aunt’s first, who happened to be my mom’s cook. Taking that into consideration, people would think that I agree with this move.

I don’t actually.

See, I send her away because she has a place to go. My mom’s cook has been with us for 14 years and is of sound character. She is honest, jenis tak bawak mulut and very, very principled. She has been with us for 14 years, so we trust her. We know her. She is one of the family.

Now my maid is her niece, so apart from myself, there is another person to look after her wellbeing. Another person who could lay ground rules for her to follow. Worse come to worse, if anything bad happens, I know where her family lives so I know where to look for her. I trust M and her judgements.

Anyway, when Kak M chose my maid, she did so with care. She looked for somebody that loves children, one who doesn’t talk much, one who is kind and to her wouldn’t give me any problems. She sort of did a match making kind of thingy here lah…

So that is why I trust her enough to go to her aunt’s every week, to get away from it all. To me, if I do not want to see my boss on weekends, then I am quite sure she harbours the same feelings too. She is young by the way and need people to talk to and laugh with. Dengan aku masih macam ayam ngan itik. “Awak tahu Neti semalam si Abang ni blah, blah, blah….” Jawabnya ? “Iya… ponaan saya pun segitu…” and she described something that is totally different from what I said. Pastu kan, ponaan tu kebenda. Sikit-sikit ponaan saya..

Furthermore I do not want her to get bored working with us. Diam aje… offer tv tak nak, nak beli kan radio tak nak. Suruh tengok tv tak nak… Tapi.. ada sekali tu I came home and both Abang and Adik followed me up. Usually it is just Adik so Abang ikut sekali was quite a surprise. Usually he would come and check on me after say an hour …. Anyway, when I looked at them questioningly, Abang said Bibik nak tengok Mr. Bean… That is the only time I heard of her watching telly. Oh.. semalam as I was channel surfing, I stopped kat Spa Q rasanya and she said the series is funny.

I have veered off the subject matter again.

Resuming my musings.. But, if a household takes a maid from an agent, who doesn’t know her from adams, how could you trust her to be out on her own ? You do not know this person. Admitting her in your house is already a risk. To give her access to your house keys, your children, your baju (the bajus will be exposed to heat, which could be dangerous to their wellbeing, okay… This is heavy stuffs..) to this virtual stranger yang baru lepaih turun kapal. You have no M to tell her off and warn her from doing stupid stuffs like I have (M once asked me to stop sending my maid to her as my maid banyak balik malam keluar ngan my mom's other cooks. So sebulan lebih pembantu ku itu (he heh) melawat aunty nya yang lagi satu at my mom's house. Yeap, my mom's pembantu is another of M's very efficient relatives)

Your maid could lie about her name, age and past experiences. She could be anybody, see… inventing a new image as we wouldn’t know really as to whom can we refer her to ? Is she really who she said she was and not some serial killer on the run ? People are afraid of the dark because we cannot see what is around us. Is there anything dangerous lurking somewhere ? The same thing with unknown and strangers, we are suspicious because we do not know who they are. We do not know if they have criminal tendencies. To know is all and everything !

Am I making sense ? Aku membebel apa nih ? Darn …

If we were to give her a day off well…to go where exactly ? If she has no friends here, then where do you send your maid to ? Drive her to KLCC and leave her alone ? Then what ? If she does have friends, then where do they meet ? How is this arranged ? What time will they come home ? And if they don’t then what ?

Before my current maid, I employed Bibik Lina for awhile. Bibik Lina is a relative of M too but she did a runner because her boss hit her. While waiting to process her passage home, she worked with us for awhile.

I let her out the house on weekends as usual and 1 weekend, she came home pregnant. Baguslah tu. She didn’t even know the guy and I suspect she was just a bit gersang. So dengan sapa pun jadik asal kena service… rude I know but that is fact. Husband away and all.

The thing is, household with maids are usually a household with 2 working parents. The kids are at home with this stranger (even after a few years, they can still be a stranger, kay because you still do not know her family and history), in a house with no responsible adults. She is the adult. She is the responsible one. But what is she brings home a man she met during the weekend ? What if that man decided to loot our house clean ?

I am not condoning maids’ abuse but please take under consideration that these people live in our house and have access to our lives. The horror and despair they inflict on us are very much real too. They can because they live with us. I am not saying all these Indonesians are bad but please also take into consideration of those yang memang hobby merampok, mengikat orang, membuat segala macam bentuk kedurjanaan. Cerita itu lagiiiiiiiiiiiii banyak dari cerita amah yang didera.

Last-last, cakap Melayu jugak best.

More on Italian food

After 2 weeks of driving the power of dreams, I am back driving the power to induce nightmare… Urrghhh

Anyway, to continue my trip down memory lane. This incident again happened in Florence. We stayed at the Holiday Inn, checking in on a Saturday afternoon after alighting from our train from Pisa. In Pisa Abang had his first ever taste of ice-cream, Hazelnut flavour, right in front of the leaning tower.

Anyway, on Sunday we woke up and joined the breakfast buffet. There were rows and rows and rows of bread in various shapes and sizes and colour and taste. I love bread and was in heaven.

But… the best thing was not the bread, but the presence of a cake stand with a beautiful gateau on it. I nudged Babah, open-mouthed and pointed at the cake. “Depa makan cake pagi-pagi, Babah !!” Kata orang Melayu yang perak ni.

The cake was delicious. Seriously, I have never tasted anything but delicious in Italy.

Biasalah, Babah and me. Little things can make our day, which is why the next day we woke up and thought about the luxury of eating cake for breakfast. It is not the cake really, but the novelty of it in the morning. I was picturing Italian mamas icing cakes at 7 am !

The journey from our room to the breakfast room was slow due to exchanges of Bonjorno and Ciao with the Italians and having to stop for them to admire Abang and pinch his cheeks and whatnots. But surprise, surprise… no cake ! Nada.

I thought we dreamt of the cake and Babah said maybe dah habis.

Okay.

But the next day and the day after, the cake was still missing which made me conclude that the Italians do not eat cakes during breakfast at all. Only on Sundays before church.

Or probably…It was yesterday’s cake and dah nak basi dah so bagi jelah makan for breakfast sebelum sempat basi tengahari. Dunno.

I was too segan to ask Ale (our friend, the loveliest, nicest person ever) about it though so it remained a mystery. Anybody knows ? (alah boleh aje kalau aku nak beli cake kat Concorde KL and belasah pagi Ahad ni… tapi tak best lah….)

Speaking of Ale, it reminded me of.. wow ! another food memory… He he… Our friend Tasren moved to Brighton for university after 2 years in Nottingham. That was where he met Ale. Anyway we missed him and he had been badgering us to come visit anyway. So one day, Babah and I packed our bags and off we went to Brighton, about 45 minutes from London.

Anyway, Brighton is lovely. I looooovvveee Brighton. The pebbly beaches, the cobbled streets with quaint shops lining it. I soooo love it. The houses were all built facing the sea and in perfect rows perching on top of hills.

I remember Brighton as sunny and bright and well, just plain lovely.

At the time of our visit, Ale had some friends from home with her, all with footballer’s name. Marco and Fabrizio and hmm…. Forgotten the other one. There was also Veronique who was French. That night, as a welcome to us, we had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant in town. The girls dolled up (I had to wear full make up because … well, I had to… keh keh) and off we went.

Actually, this incident should have better prepared us, Babah and myself, of what to expect when we go to Italy. At the restaurant we noticed that our new Italian friends (except for Ale) seemed to have ordered two plates of food each. One pasta and one meat or fish dish.

Babah and I checked out their impressive physiques and wondered where all the food will go. Tasren was baffled with the amount of food they asked for too. Since we were accustomed to the size of mat salleh’s food portion, as compared to ours, we just assumed the Italians have a bigger appetites than the Brits. But we still went, “Gila weii….” and “Boleh habih ka ?”

So when the pasta came, we were much surprised when the Italians were shocked to see their food. It was too much. Apparently, they were expecting the portion to be small, as an appetiser. Things are different in England though where pastas are strictly the main course.

(It appears that the pizzas are not the same either. We ordered some for lunch and Marco scrunched his face when he saw ours. He duly informed us that in Italy pizza toppings are usually tomatoes and mushrooms and pepperoni… Never chicken and pineapple…. Keh keh…. That man should try Pizza Express’ spinach and egg… Heaven..)

Watching them struggling to finish the veals and the fish was excruciating. But they did anyway. And ordered cappucino for afters. Amazing.

My Italian lunch

Babah took me out for lunch today, to a quite nice Italian bistro in Damansara Perdana. Now, today’s lunch reminded me of two dining experience involving the Italians.

The first happened during our trip to Florence. It was our so called honeymoon. So called because 1 year old Abang tagged along.

Anyway, after a nice visit to the Boboli Gardens, we decided to have lunch at this nice looking restaurant. Went in and it was full but we managed to get a table anyway. We ordered two Spaghetti Vongole (and it was delicious) and 2 crème caramel.

Alas, when we were to be served our deserts, the waiter apologetically explained that they only have one left. We didn’t mind and assured the distressed waiter we could share. We wished we didn’t have to though because it was the best crème caramel served any side of the world, ever. So soft and milky, melted in your mouth kind of pudding. Not the Malaysian version which has an overwhelming eggy taste. This one was creamy indeed.

We paid the bill gladly, informed the waiter to compliment the chef on our behalf and left. As we walked, I studied the receipt and was shocked to find that we weren’t billed for the dessert. We turned around, entered the restaurant again, much to the surprise of the waiter.

Showed him the bill and explained and Babah took out some euros to pay.

The waiter shook his head. “No ! No !” with much gesticulating. People stopped to look. “It is on the house. You ordered two ? We have only one so we give you free !” He explained with a flourish.

Babah and I were very thankful “But….” I said. “Wouldn’t your boss mind ?”

He drew his head back, eyes went wide (I was rather alarmed at that time) and he announced, “No ! I am boss ! So I say in the house !”

I was mortified beyond belief and could feel the heat from my blushes. Luckily he laughed and patted our backs. “You very good ! Come back to pay !! No pay ! No pay !’ and ushered us out of the… correction, his restaurant.

He… malu wei…

Oh actually got three stories. He he..

Okay this one that I just remembered also happened in Florence after the above incident. We wanted so much to go back to that restaurant but being Malay, got quite segan. Takut Godfather tu ingat kita nak crème caramel free lagi… He he…

Anyway, this time we ate quite near to the statue of David (I think so… maybe if I ask Babah he would go, “Mana ada ! Punya lah jauh ! Kita pi makan kat blah, blah, blah….). Well, we entered this nice restaurant (the first restaurant I mentioned seems very orangey in my head and when I thought about this one I am talking about now seems to be filled with white and black. White tablecloth with white window panes. Black tiangs (what is tiang again, not poles surely…) with waiters in black aprons. Oh, and they have coloured blow glass bottles on the tables.

Anyway, pastas and pizzas were listed under appetisers which surprised us. I remembered ordering Crema e Funghi pasta and Babah ordered Pizza Margherita. And a bottle of Aqua Frizzante (Babah likes Aqua Naturale, so we took turns lah… 1 botol besar oii… kenyang minum air..).

After we finished ordering, the waiter didn’t go away. He was still standing at our table, pad in hand, pen waiting. Babah said thank you. He raised his eyebrows. He then asked about main course.

Turn aku ngan Babah pulak angkat kening. I thought language barrier, dia tak paham so I repeated our order. He nodded his head and asked again for our main course. I explained that was our main course and he was shocked. Again much gesturing and gesculating, explaining the portion will be small.

It took a few attempts to assure him that we would be fine. When we got our food, the portion was small, but it was okay. We weren’t overly full, but it was enough. I think if we ordered a main course, the waiter would have to wheel us back to our hotel. Seriously !

And was he a concerned waiter. He kept checking up on us and when we cleared our plate, he asked if we changed our minds about the main course. We didn’t. He offered us desserts and coffee and what nots. When we paid our bill, I think it took him all his strength and might not to secret a loaf of bread in Abang’s stroller, just in case.

Hmm…. Actually now I am reminded of a hundred stories involving food, so … to be continued !!

Reunion 3S4

It all started when some who couldn't go to the school reunion at Blue Wave Hotel grumbled and moaned. So I thought maybe it is a good idea to have a little reunion of my own SRP class, 3S4.

Voiced out the idea, everybody agreed. The date was difficult as Khairul insisted that we wait for him to come home. Suggested the 20th. But Shazad was upset because he had a wedding to go to. He is to be the best man so we took a vote. Sorry Shazad, more people voted for the 20th.

Pot luck was suggested and that one caused a bit of a fight, too. Farika and Azizi both wanted to bring cake. Well... fighting was a normal occurence when we went to school. After 18 years, we slipped into old habits easily.

Pictures..

The early birds. Can't beat Badely, Mashar and Farika though as they cpme at 12.55. Majlis start pukul 2... Keh keh...

Eating and chatting. Too many questions to ask since there were a good 18 years when we last met each other. Err... no... There were weddings...

Took out the ol' album. Embarassing really with the rambut and the geeky glasses and the antics. Funny, some were identified wrongly. They claimed Nicholas Yap was Badely.. Ada ko..

The album was taken outside where the durians were. Durian, courtesy of Abe who called me at 6.30 am from Pasar Borong, asking if I would mind him bringing durians. Don't like durians but who could say no to a very generous offer ? He arrived at the house 7.30 am to unload the goods. Mum came and saw and salivated.

Laughing at the pictures. Was I ever that thin ? Asked many, many people. Well except for Amelia and Anu, of course.

Durian feast. I joined them from time to time but kept having to run inside because tak tahan kena kutuk, kena usik and kena gelak...




Luckily I thought of just laying the tikar on the porch. People were much more relaxed and mingling was easy. We fell to our normal camaderie easily after the first few shy hellos. Who was I kidding ? There were no shyness. Each attendance was greeted with a lot of screamings and whoopings of delight.




The wives. Well Zatul was our junior so she is already one of us.

Food was aplenty. But the durian was so popular people were mostly outside partaking the fruit.

Badely and Anu. Bad's comment when he saw this picture ? "Dulu aku lagi putih dari Anwar, kan ?" Keh keh...

Food was aplenty and grew with each arrival. Next time, each person will only prepare food for 2. He he

At the end of the day, the only durians left. Abe thoughtfully put aside 3 for Babah. Babah ate 1 and I gave the rest to my mom.

The girls. Extreme left is Ana Miraa who graciously attended the gathering even though she was with us for only a few months. Said Camel, as long as there was a table for you at one point, you are one of us. Nicely put, Camel.

It was so hard to organise everybody for this picture. I was hoarse by the time this was taken. Actually I had planned a little sukaneka but again, to organise them was so much work, I had to abandon it. Well probably not a good idea for our very first gathering since we were busy talking.



Or I should have bought a whistle.



Lesson learnt.



I had so much fun. Next one, my SPM class, EPA1.



Yeay !!



PS : Mashar said the next one is in 2 weeks time. When I protested he said I didn't do anything as all the food was brought by everybody else. Banyak le ko ! Jumpa selalu boring kang.....

Cekodok yang bawak bad memories...

I made cekodok on Monday. Can’t abide people calling it Jemput-Jemput. Too polite for my rude ears. He he..

Well when I made them that Monday, I was awashed with a few memories that has cekodok in it but this particular one got stuck in me head.

Memory yang tak best of course because we always remember the unpleasant ones, don’t we.

Anyway, Babah is my husband. And therefore I usually do things the way he likes it. Like I do not make gulai nenas anymore because he doesn’t eat it. Makan for my own consumption would only require ¼ of the said nenas. So the ¾ usually ended up in the bin or worse, I have to cook a more complicated dish in order to use it, i.e. laksa assam.

He also likes his cekodok with very minimal amount of tepung. Hence, if I am not careful the said cekodoks frying away in the wok would have a high chance of sticking to the thing.

(2 weekends ago Babah and Ian went out to buy pisang goreng and cekodok from the road side. Babah complained with every bite he took because they were rather hard. When I made the cekodok last Monday, he kept saying, ‘Why can’t people sell their cekodoks like this ?’ He he… Like I said, I know what he likes….. okay ?)

Bearing that in mind, he also likes his bananas to be frittered when they are bit matured. That is best he said because the pisang goreng would be really nice and sweet. Sure the pisang goreng would be sweet but to goreng pisang would be rather difficult.

But, I just do it anyway, per his preference well… because he likes it that way lah. No other reason. The story is coming, don’t you fret, now.

Anyway, this fateful day I fried some ripe bananas that were available in the kitchen. To fry a ripe one, you really have to make sure the batter is made of sterner stuffs in order to help the already soft bananas withstand the heat. However, it has to be light enough so that it wouldn’t taste so floury and ended up dense and heavy. As a result, I got some nice banana fritters which had quite a few burnt spots (because the batter broke) but crunchy enough. It just didn’t look normal, is all.

As I was frying the second batch, a person whom I would prefer to remain unknown, took a peek at what I was doing and exclaimed, “Ha ha ! Goreng pisang masak !!” and continued laughing like I was stupid. She left but turned around to look at me, shaking her head away, hand covering her mouth.

My blood definitely boiled and went upstairs and upstairs and upstairs. Dah lah panas mengadap kuali yang berapi. Saja nak naikkan my body temperature. Saja tau buat aku terbakar !! Waarrgghhh !

I was gritting my teeth when she re-entered the cooking area. Seizing the opportunity, I remarked to the maid who was washing the dishes. “Babah ni suka makan goreng pisang yang masak. Dia kata lembut, manis. Sedap bagi dia……”

Not much, but it told her that I did it on purpose. Sebab laki aku suka !

I think if she didn’t giggle or laugh, I wouldn’t have been offended. But she did laugh at me. And that what me wanna…. Haa…. Terlajak perahu boleh diundur, terlajak kata…. Lagi lah ada evidence ni ha…. Keh keh…

Nak muntah KFC

I was fasting yesterday. And the day was hot. Although I wasn’t hungry, my throat was parched and my mouth dry (took a sip of my tea, feeling grateful that I have tea to drink unlike the poor. So lessons Allah intended for me from fasting is duly learnt).

When I got back home, crashed on the sofa, valiantly fought to keep my eyes open while trying to hear important news from my babies. Then of course, “What are we having for dinner tonight ?”

“I am hungry… can we go out and eat ?”

“Mummy masak ke ? Can you cook right now ?”

Aduih lah….

Remembered the bananas from our tree and decided on pengat pisang for sahur. But alas, Neti had mashed them all up. Ants, she said.

Okay lah. Cekodok lah nampaknya. Neti made hot tea without asking. Alhamdullilah.

Kids pestered for KFC. Not really my cup of tea, but the things you do for your kids, eh ? Immediately after Maghrib, Babah reached for his keys. I went with a heavy heart because my tummy is replete with the cekodok. And knowing my husband, he would go “Ini je you makan ?” if I order, say coleslaw so asked for Dinner Plate.

However still looked longingly at the jelly ala mode. Babah saw me looking and said we could tapau.

Food stopped entering the stomach and settled on my throat. I was that full. Only managed one and a half piece. Bread and side dishes polished off by Abang. Babah also didn’t finish his food because he was still poorly. Kesian sangat dia. “I nak muntah.. kenyang sangat…” He said.

On the way home, at Sek3 McDonald’s roundabout remembered the jelly. “La… Babah… kita lupa beli jelly !”

“Nak pusing ke ?” Offered my husband. Bile crept up. Gosh, I think if I burped, some bits of food would fly off. I shook my head. But being female, as soon as Babah took the road to our house, I changed my mind.

“Bahhhhh….”

He has been with me for 16 years, that man so he knew what was up. “You nak ke tak nak nih ?” He asked. “Cakap betul-betul…” My grins made him turned a sharp left, through Caltex, pass McDonalds and taking the roundabout again. But by then I changed my mind again but dared not tell him. I will have to eat it tomorrow.

“Kita nak pegi mana ni ?” Asked my daughter before we passed McDonald’s.

“McDonald’s lah. Nak makan apa ?”

“Wow ! Saya nak Happy Meal !!” She ordered happily.

Babah and I looked at each other. “Tak kenyang-kenyang lagi ke ?” and we started laughing.

The kids saw us going to the new KFC drive-through at Sek 2.

“Bukan pegi McDonald’s ke ?”

“No… I changed my mind. KFC balik lah….”

When we got the window, waiting for our turn, Umar and Elsa started ordering.

“Drumstick !”

“Saya pun nak drumstick !!”

Crazy. Tadi makan ke apa ? Tergelak jugak lah kita orang, looking at our kids. He rolled down the window and the most unpleasant sensation hit us. It was nauseating, people. The smell. Chicken… urggh !

My stomach started heaving. I looked at my husband and he actually went, “Uweekk…” The real one, not pretend. The smell… ! Under normal circumstances, the aroma of fried chicken would have made me hungry, but last night… I had wanted to hurl. The thought of chicken and bananas swimming together…. Oh man…..

“I nak muntah !!” He complained. Quickly ordered and rolled the window up again. Babah braced himself for the incoming onslaught when he drove to the other window, grabbed the bags and sped off.

I almost collapsed on my sejadah as sujud on a full, nauseated stomach was agony.

Burp !

PS : My colleagues took me to KFC today for my birthday treat. Last night’s episode does not affect me today. However, as a precautionary measure, only took the small Colonel Burger.

Nasi Tomato and Cupcakes

Finally, my niat tu buat nasi tomato and feed my family sebab Adik dah naik Quran menjadik. Actually I had wanted to bagi my friends sekali but because my mother tak larat, so retsricted to family only. And Ustaz, of course.

Friends I will have to do a second round. Thank you for your understanding (Sat kena kira ni.. Sheik & Kamalia – 3 orang, Min & Farid – 4 orang, Amelia & Sib – 3 orang, Noreen – 3 orang, Jubei – 4 orang, Nuyui and Konot jauh sangat so am just sending you guys my thoughts filled with nasi tomato, okay… he he…. Errm… sapa yang tertinggal ?)

Sempat pi jogging dulu with Tini and Noreen and Melia dulu. Jogging mulut je lebih, Amelia tak berpeluh langsung and sempat kena mengorat sket kami berempat.. Keh keh….

Funnily enough my entrance to the tasik near the masjid was not known by my friends. Had to wait at the gate for Amelia. Keh keh..

Went to my mom’s afterwards and packed the food. I had a sneaky taste and it was heaven. Raced home and forced my husband (and poor Ian Rashid Macquistan) to follow me in my rounds to distribute the food.

Came home to discover the house keys went awol. While Babah searched loudly, I ran to the bathroom to mandi, and escape. Luckily he found it in the car.

I so love rice. Tomato rice made by mom ? Bloody love it. I scooped a little amount though initially but it was sooo good, I scooped a bigger one the next round. The result ? Seriously bloated tummy almost 2 hours after eating. Which continued to the next day and the day after and the day after. Yessshhhh………

But I am Melayu and Takkan Melayu Tak Makan Nasi ? (Or Hilang Di Dunia as Hang Tuah puts it…). Babah ate a little because he was unwell. This viral fever is seriously doing his head in. Pity him. He is tired all the time.

That was Thursday. Sunday we were supposed to go out for a little cupcake in Damansara but had to cancel because Babah was so weak. Pity him, eh ? Only… well we didn’t have lunch in order to partake the cupcakes, so I was rather hungry by 4, the supposed hour we were suppose to go.

I was dreaming of cupcakes when my mom came which was a nice surprise, taking out herbal tea from her bag for dearest son-in-law. Then my sisters came bearing cupcakes and cries of Happy Birthday. I was touched. And a bit relieved because had we gone, I would have missed my own birthday party.

Hyrul came all over from Seremban with keropok leko which was really good and crispy apam balik. Since Seremban is rather far, mom had to bake the apam balik again to restore them to their crispiness glory.

We ate and tengok cerita hantu, Jangan Tegur which sucks.

What a day.

PS : I am still waiting to go to the cupcake place, though. Ha ha

Why you so like that, ah ?

I read an entry in a blog just now bout one mother’s son’s answer to teacher’s “What do you want to be when you grow up ?” (If you want to know, the little dear answered NINJA, much to the teacher’s consternation – cikgu, please lah… He is 5. I wanted to be a Jedi when I was 5… to 15…ha ha….).

Anyway, her entry reminded me of my own ‘What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up’ moment. Annually, from when we were 7 to about 9 or 10, cikgu would call us one by one to ask that question and we have to give 3 answers. 1, 2 and 3.

Well, I remember this once, right where cikgu actually warned us that she will be making enquiries of that nature the very next day and wanted us to think long and hard about it. Okay… Don’t know about you but I was mighty excited. See, I love being asked bout that. Usually the teacher would call us one by one to the desk without any warning. If your name started with an A, then you really were ambushed. But by M, words spread and you could have a quick think. But it was never enough ! I would frantically think one glamourous job after another, not knowing how much time I have and when my turn came, I would be so flustered (at least I was, not sure about the rest of you), I could only remember the boring ones. Which would result in my stewing over my bad choices for days.

Like teacher, police, lawyer, doctor… Standard answers. Errmm… to those people who read this and actually menyandang the occupations that I just mentioned.. errmm… jangan marah…. At that time it was boring le…. Sekarang ni reality keeps me in check… He heh..

Anyway, that year, to have one whole day for leisure berangan of what I want to become was heaven sent. I was giddy with happiness. The class was buzzing with our discussion and I remember Astronauts, Gymnasts, Scientists were thrown about at a speedy rate.

I remember Azmall and Ami Mokhzani…. maybe Darjah Tiga kot…

Anyway, went home and had another glorious think, pulling out all the exotic occupations my 9 year old (kalau Darjah Tiga lah) 3 pounder could think of. I was having the time of my life.

Pegi sekolah, of course it became the subject of the day and we talked to everybody, proudly listing our choices and quickly canceling them if a friend has a better choice. Keh keh… budak-budak namanya.

When my turn came, I was so damn excited. Pathetic life I must have at that point in time if soalan bangang macam tu pun can be so… orgasmic… Don’t mind me…

However… well there is always something to deflate me, ain’t it ? Again, however when I was actually there, my chest puffing with pride (seriously, I must have such a dismal life).. hmm… teacher was, God… how can I put this ? Uninterested. Blasé. Indifferent.

She didn’t even ask me, people. She just looked at me, pen poised on my card (like identity card, maybe half of A4 size for student’s particulars), eyebrows rose. For some reason, pride turned to shame. Why was I being so perasan (remember aku paling pantang kalau orang cakap aku perasan… apa lagi thinks I am perasan…), thinking that she is actually interested to know, barring the call of her duty ? She was just doing her job. If Kementerian Pelajaran tak suruh tanya, she wouldn’t have cared less. I could remember my upright posture fell and I slouched.

I was embarrassed beyond believe. I mentioned my first exotic choice and she just wrote it. She didn’t ask why or say anything. Hell, she didn’t even look at me. So for the second and third, I just gave her the normal, boring safe ones.

When I turned to walk back to my desk, she called the next person on the list in a bored tone. I remember thinking why didn’t I notice her fed up tone before ?

He he… why am I me ? Why am I like that ? Eh… shouldn’t I write ‘Why WAS I like that ?’

Hmmm…..

Cuti budak-budak

What was supposed to be a holiday for us Mummy and Babah to take the kids out for the obligatory school holiday trip (trip apa… just to KLCC) turned out to be a sick day for us.

Sunday the house was filled with relatives, which I absolutely love. My Uncle Mat called at 9 pm on Saturday to say that he and family are praying at Masjid Shah Alam and asked for the direction to the house.

We were in Kelana Jaya, at the till paying for dinner so asked Uncle Mat to stay put. Fetched them and started making sleeping arrangements. Malam when all the lights were off, I walked throughout the house relishing in the fact that the blue room was occupied by Maksu and family, the pink room by Uncle Mat’s, Uncle Mat himself was sleeping in front of the telly upstairs. Only the actual guest room downstairs was empty. Ha ha.

Pagi-pagi after sending Abang to his tennis class, went to Cili Merah to buy breakfast. Ian called to say that he is coming. So breakfast was a lively affair, at our rarely used dining table.

Uncle Mat left for KL around 11, Maksu went off to Bangi soon after. Mum came over with Kari Ikan, her famous Ikan Masak Kicap and other lauks to compliment the very plain rice.

We ate and be merry again. Mum went home and we settled for a long chat with Ian when Babah complained of feeling unwell. He baring on the carpet but continued talking to Ian.

By 8, tummies started grumbling all around and so we went to look for food. Ian belanja. Thanks.. ha ha.. When we got home, Ian stayed for awhile but left when he saw Babah looked less than peachy.

Monday, I woke up with a migraine and Babah feeling worse for wear. Okay, DEMC jawabnya. Punya lah ramai, rasa kematu pungkok dok tunggu. At one point we ran away when a girl with spots all over her body sat next to us. Ha ha… Measles tuh.

“Adik, don’t think we can go to KLCC today..”

“Ohh.. it’s okay. Sebab Abah demam kan ?” She said, good naturedly.

Went home and Babah crashed on the tilam in front of the telly upstairs. I slept off my migraine on the day bed next to him.

Budak-budak ? Main lah on their own, doing their own things. Kesian. Pity the kids for staying home all cuti.

Uncle Kamal

Tak payah lah I write the story of my accident. Buat menyakit kan hati aje.

Anyway, when I got home my maksu and paksu were back at my house after 5 days in Perak, our kampung, with Wan in tow.

He he, fortunately the bed for the guest room came before she did, so I was lucky.

Next morning when I woke up, my mom was already in situ so I got a lot of sympathy. Wan beckoned me over and started massaging my body. It was painful but it helped. So, thank you, Wan.

While we were talking my Uncle Kamal called me. Where is your house ? I am in ITM Shah Alam ni, he said. In less than 10 minutes, he was there, right in front of me with his family.

Happy sangat-sangat.

They came to tumpang sembahyang and for a little rest before attending my cousin’s Fathiah’s graduation ceremony.

The house was really nice when filled with people. It is rather too big for us.

Aunty Anna before leaving for ITM whispered to me, “Ajak lah your uncle tidur sini. Aunty penat lah….”

Erkk ! I love my uncle but he is a bit on the garang side.

“You are his favourite…. Pujuk lah dia….”

Double errkk !

Berpeluh – peluh memikirkan cara, mengarang ayat berbagai but I think the suspense made me blurted an unsophisticated invitation. He refused nicely and I so hate to disappoint my aunt.

“Apa lah ko… tak convincing langsung…” He he….

Petang they came back for Asar and mandi-mandi to freshen up. Pastu they left. He did say, “Tak pe girl. Lain kali uncle datang and I will sleep at your house…” He smiled. My uncle is very handsome, thanks to his Malay and Pakistani heritage. I love it when he smiles because that is when his true colours shine through. He is garang sure, but he is kind and helpful too. He loves children. I love the way he is with his grandchildren (well Umar, Elsa, Esya and Anna je lah) and us (his own 6 children and us his nieces and nephews) when we were little.

Up until now, he will be one of the first people I call to mengadu dumba...he he

Okay, uncle. I will hold on to your words. But really it is up to naught because if next time dia ngelat jugak, I wouldn’t dare to remind him of his promise.

Keh ! Keh !

Mummy And Babah

Yesterday Babah and I were on our bed, listening to the radio. He was clipping his nails and I was reading, fresh from a very cooling shower.

My ears caught Michael Buble’s (is that how his name is spelt ?) The Way You Look Tonight (I think that is what the song is called), my absolute favourite so what did I do ? I pulled my husband for a dance.

We haven’t done that in a long time actually so I was so thrilled when he was all game. As he pulled me close to him, I felt so safe. I think because it reminded me of my parents, who always did the same thing when we were smaller.

My reverie were broken however when the door was flung open and we heard Adik’s shrieks of delight. “Abang! Abang ! Come up ! Tengok ni ! You have to see this ! Quick ! You HAVE to see this, Um !”

I looked up at my husband (not an easy feat as I was admiring his toned shoulders) and saw him rolled his eyes. Abang ran up and hooted when he saw us. Then Babah did what I love best. He twirled me away from him, then he reeled me back in (macam pancing ikan je..), twirling all the way. Good thing he expertly caught me because I was starting to get dizzy.

We danced a bit more before he dipped me, much to our children’s delight and yanked me back to him.

Then…. “Mummy ! When are you going to cook ? I am hungry !”

Urrghhh…. Apa ini… Kacau je…. Sigh…