Happy 2009

May 2009 be a great year for all of us - and may it especially be the one we are wishing for ;)

A not-so-happy katak di bawah tempurung

It's that time of year when people clean out their cupboards and do a little housekeeping - and try to think up some new-year resolutions that are unbreakable.

I don't make resolutions anymore. How depressing is it to start off the year and not do what you've promised to do right smack from day 1?! So, no thank you, ma'am, I'll stay the sloppy jane I am lah.

Yennyways, while housekeeping - the cyber kind ;) - I came across a folder of my older blogs. The posting I reproduce below was written way back in 2006:

Katak di bawah tempurung

Someone recently called me a frog under a coconut shell. Because I like where I am. And I like the people around me. And because I am happy. And because I told him I didn't want to be sent stuff about bad-ass Malaysia. Because, most times, I already know.

But oh dear. I wonder if it could be true. And this little frog-me - what would I see under there? Not much at all, I guess. It must be dark and gloomy; a very small world, indeed. And it can't be very happy, eh?

Well, then. That can't be me, surely. You see, it's bright and sunny where I am - both literally and metaphorically. And my world is not small at all.

It is HUGE - extending far and wide: as far as my friends and family reach; as far as my books take me; as far as the net transports me. And that is very, very far.

And I am happy. Though not all the time, I admit. Some days are only OK. And some days are major sucky. But then there are some days that are oh-so-wonderful, I want to take my hat off and swing it into the air - like Mary Tyler Moore in the old sitcom: 'Who can turn the world on with her smile? Who can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile....' (I'll sing it for you when I see you, k. I still remember the tune!!!)

And Larnee says I am so Malaysia-boleh. You know what? Maybe she's right. I think I'll take that as a compliment. Cause that was the spirit in which it was said, I'm sure. (?)

So let the katak tell you about my tempurung, ok?

And I KNOW I am under my Malaysian tempurung when:

• I get to my floor and the lift stops - and the people outside rush in before I can get out

• I hold the lift open for someone - and they just walk in and alsmost step on my toes. Thank you? Oh puh-leese, get real will ya'?

• I stop and let someone come out at a juction - and he just cuts in front of me and drives off without even a nod of acknowledgement

• I wish someone 'good morning' - and they stare at me with their mouths wide open, thinking: huh?!

• I look up from my lunch - and see someone use the long fingernail on his baby-finger (oh why do people do this?) to dig out a piece of char siew that's gotten stuck between his teeth

• I signal my need to make a right turn - and the cars in the on-coming lane speed up, so that it is impossible to cut across. Gee thanks, guys

• I wait my turn patiently in line - and someone cuts in and demands that she be served at once cause she's in a hurry! Who in heck do I think I am for wanting to be served first???

• I get ready to move off when the lights turn green - only to see the biker in the red lane continue moving towards me, staring me down, and daring me to knock him off his bike

• I come out to breathe in the crisp air after the rain - only to see the smoke rising from the fires my neighbours have lit - to maintain the lovely hazey status quo, me thinks

• I walk out into my garden - only to see another neighbour has let his Rotweiler out to do his huge-ass daily potty right in front of my house

• I drive behind this car with Singapore plates - and see a huge bag of rambutan skins and seeds being flung out of the window

• I say "I'm sorry, I think you've got the wrong number?" - and I hear nothing but dead air and then, an engaged tone

• I call Astro and am told that I am number 35 in the calling queue - and have to listen to an inane voice tell me about the wonderful programmes I cannot see - because that's why I'm calling you damn it!!!

• I then wait summore and reach number two in the Astro calling queue - and my line gets cut off for no bloody reason! Astro and Telekom in cahoots, ya think?

• I go to the bank to withdraw my own money - and the cashier gives me a nasty look and snaps, "YES?!!"

• I go to the same bank and say I want to transfer money to Canada - and the cashier mumbles in a voice that's close to tears, "Kah-nah-dah? Macam mana ni...?"

• I reluctuntly go to the MacDonald's drive-in (I hate this less-than-food!) - and the guy at MacDonald's bellows, "Have a nice day!" --- after he's mixed up my order, forgotten my fries, and not given me the chilly sauce that Chuan asked for specifically!

Some tempurung, eh?! Welcome to my world :)

written on 26 October 2006 - and nothing's changed....

To you (on this page ;)

With lots of love,

Pat

xxx!

English medium, Malay medium, spritual medium

Ok, I've kinda jumped on the bandwagon and am giving my two cents here: I think we are in a mess, and I see no way out in the near future.

Which medium for our schools? I think we need a spiritual medium who'll go into a trance and tell us what the future holds in store for us. Cos I see it as very bleak from where I am sitting.

Honestly, speaking as someone who is a former English teacher, and therefore someone who knows what the standard of English out there is really like, I think the best thing would be to have a one-medium school: a Malay-medium school (Bahasa Malaysia is just too long a word, people!).

Why? Because that is the only language we can speak reasonably well lah! More importantly, that is the language the teachers out there speak and think in. Most of them. For sure. Trust me.

I know of schools where Maths and Science is not taught at all! The students are told to read their texts and the teacher sits in front of the class and does his own thing. Promise you, this is a true story. And this is not one class I am talking about. I am talking about many classes in which this happens.

And why don't they teach? Because these teachers don't speak English, or they feel their English is not good enough; and would be embarrassed to use it in front of a class.

I know that feeling. I was forced to teach in Malay when I was doing my Diploma in Education. It killed me to stand there and stutter in Malay, in front to the very class I would later enter, and then proceed to teach English! Sigh. I so feel for these guys out there.

But that is not to say that Malay should be the medium of choice.

I am from an English-medium school. Had to pass my Malay or I'd have failed everything. And I had to get a credit. And I did. And I can hold a conversation in Malay, thank you very much. I can even write in it very well if I had to - though I am a bit out of practice these days.

So if we're talking of druthers, then of course, the best medium would be English. That wins hands down.

We are a small nation, and at one time not too long ago, we were the place of choice for foreign investors because we had an educated and hardworking, English speaking workforce. But that's all in the past tense now.

Someone who should've known better decided to change us to Malay-medium while waving the 'nationalistic' card, and no one wanted to be deemed a subversive element and say, 'Oh no! Let's think about this!'

Then someone who also should've known better decided to make a bad situation even worse by decreeing that Maths and Science would be taught in English.

And all I could think of in reply to this wisdom was this: Taught by whom, oh wise one?

Because of that brilliant decision made in the 70s, I had hell in university: I listened to someone drone on in Malay, while I made instant translations - and so I had copious notes in English. Believe me, my notes were in demand!

This gets even better: I read English Literature in University Malaya. Two subjects every year, in this department, we conducted in Malay. Oh yah, you read right.

So there were these guys, fluent in Shakespeare's English, reading in Malay (badly, I may add), off their translated notes to a lecture hall full of English Lit students, all doing instant translations into English!!! Go file that under 'D' - for dustbin - I say!

So, what do we do NOW?

I really don't know. We are in a very bad place. Notice how I didn't even go near Tamil or Mandarin (mother tongue? who's your mama?). That's a bowl of venom I wouldn't dare venture near.

For a take of Tamil schools, and the product of a 'national' school - go here. I think Naga is worth a read, for he makes a lot of sense. And offers another perspective - as do the Commenters on his post.

This is a nest of asps - this place we are in. Anywhere Cleopatra puts her hand, she will be stung, and she will die - a slow and painful death, I hear.

A time for giving

Christmas is a time for giving. We all enjoy our presents under the christmas tree, and even non-christians and pagans like me love giving and getting them ;)

It is so easy to forget that there are many out there who are not as fortunate as we are. One such family is brought to light by Raja Petra - and you can find his post, and read all about them and their plight, on Zorro's blog here: A just and compelling appeal.

Contributions can be made to their son's Maybank account:

KEVIN A/L MICHAL JOSEPH, is 1124-4704-3083 (Maybank).

Like RPK says, it doesn't need to be very much; but every little bit will surely help.

The best time to help them is now. Surely that would make for a truly merry Christmas :)

10th vigil - Finally made it :)

So, yah, I finally got my ass in gear and made it to the 10th vigil in PJ.

It was raining, so Chuan was so sure no one would be there. 'Wanna bet on it?' I go, but he doesn't want to, cos sometimes ah, the man can be so no-fun, wan!

Yennyways, I get there - early - having kinda gotten lost, cos I can be blurrr about directions and places sometimes. Not many people were around, but they were friendly, and two warm souls - Nanda and Sunny - came over and say 'hi'.

Then, things got going, and many people spoke: Richard Yeoh, Zorro, Haris Ibrahim, and quite a few others. Most made sense; some none at all; and a couple sounded like hecklers. Whatever.

Two speakers from the night, struck a chord in my mind:

One was Dr Cruz of CruzinThots, who talked about our need to overcome our fear.

He is right, of course. But, I think if I had to put my finger on it, I couldn't explain this 'fear'. It is intangible. And so the one reason I wanted to go for one vigil, at least, was to no longer know I wasn't going because I was afraid.

The other was Estralita Soliano Grosse (a cyber-pal whom I only 'saw' for the very first time yesterday), who said something that was true for me: That being there, at the vigil, helped us feel like we belonged. Together. As members of one nation. Malaysians.

That is something I felt as a child, growing up. But it got legislated our of our consciousness along the way. I don't think my children ever knew it, because by the time they'd come along, it was this mess that we call a plural society now.

But yesterday, I it was there again - for the first time after a long time. And it felt good. So, yup, that was my first vigil - So now I can use Crankster's words and say, 'So been there, done that, got the t-shirt,even!' Hahahaha!!

And here's a little pix to prove it! [Thank you, Lita!!!] That's me and my Chuan in the top, left hand corner of the pix. There's another one of me and my 'donated' candle (so malu lah, didn't remember to bring candle to a candle light vigil! Sigh.)

You can go here, to Lita's post, to see more pix :)

It feels good to have been for the vigil. It's taken us 51 years to get here, so I know it won't move mountains. But I hope it makes a good deep dent in one, at least.

In making-memories-mode now

Today, I picked up Jeffery Deaver’s novella ‘Forever’, and it begins like this:

An old couple like that, the man thought, acting like kids.

Didn’t have a clue how crazy they looked.

Peering over the boxwood hedge he was trimming, the gardener was looking at Sy and Donald Benson on the wide, back deck of their house, sitting in a rocking love seat and drinking champagne. Which they’d had plenty of. That was for sure.

Giggling, laughing, loud.

Like kids, he thought, contemptuously.

But enviously too a little. Not at their wealth – oh, he didn’t resent that; he made
a good living tending the grounds of the Bensons’ neighbours, who were just as rich.

No, the envy was simply that even at this age they looked like they were in love and happy.

The gardener tried to remember when he’d laughed like that with his wife. Must’ve been ten years. And holding hands like the Bensons were doing? Hardly ever since their first year together.

The electric hedge trimmer beckoned but the man lit a cigarette and continued to watch them. They poured the last of the champagne into their glasses and finished it. Then Donald leaned forward, whispering something in the woman’s ear and she laughed again. She said something back and kissed his cheek.

Gross. And here they were, totally ancient. Sixties, probably. It was like seeing his own parents making out. Christ …

How the story ends, I don’t know. Just started the book lah.

But here’s where my story starts….

By almost all young people’s standards, Chuan and I are oldie-moldies and fizzling out fast! We’re in our early fifties, kids away at school or working, and we have the home to ourselves mostly.

Irritating ‘friends’ will say silly things like, ‘enjoying a romantic weekend, ah’ or ask if I’m in lingerie tantalising him ala va-va-voom. Idiots. Sigh.

So sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t ever owned lingerie – too itchy lah! hahahah – and tantalising is something I don’t need to do – if you get what I mean.

Boxers and a tee, that’s me.

But we do enjoy being with each other. Just like Deaver’s old couple above – heavens, in their sixties?! what were they thinking?!

As a for-instance: last weekend we shared a huge tumbler of frozen something-or-other that was a violent pink! Hahahah! Because too much grenadine syrup, mah! But, for sure, eeeeenough arak lah: martini, cointreau.... ;)

So we giggled like idiots while sipping that, and we smoked the second half of a cigar we’d had the previous week, when we were out with Chits - me buddy, and partner in crime ;) who’s constantly leading me astray! Thank you, Chits!!!

Chuan kept telling me idiotic stories and we were laughing and laughing – at what? Dunno lah. Just being stupid – like that gardener would have thought! For sure!

And yah, even though he is a bona fide 54-year old chinaman, Chuan has suppressed his shyness, abit lah, and will allow me to hold his hand in public nowadays. It took me quite a longgggg while lah, but success at last! Yay! Hahahaha :)

And I know that I am lucky to have this. We both are. Blessed, with what we share.

But I know many who are not like this. I am not saying they’re not happy. I am sure they are. But I wouldn’t trade this for theirs.

If you’re married, think about this:

When was the last time you held hands?
When was the last time you just stood in the dark and looked up at the moon?

When did you share a kpoi-o-ais and giggle about nothing in particular? Not talking about the children or next month’s car instalment – but just about you two, and having fun?

When did you just sit quietly and just enjoy being together?
When did you reach out and kiss his hand, and say: I love you?

I can say we have done all that. And recently.

Ok, people, get your head out of that monsoon drain right now, and don’t you dare equate any of this with the last time you tried to get some. Ok lah, read: sex!

Sex is sex. But bonding in ways other than sex is as important to every relationship.

So, I’m also talking to you young hump-like-rabbit-types out there!!!

When was the last time you walked arm-in-arm and just enjoyed the breeze?

One day, all this will be gone. And all we’ll have left will be these memories we make now. I doubt you’ll remember that twelfth orgasm you had in a row. Ok, strike that. Maybe you will. Hahahah

But you know what I mean. Get a room, by all means. But make some good memories now.

Go here, to see my daughter Larnee making memories with her William. Me thinks Chuan and I were good teachers ;) (both got Dip. Ed, mah!)

Cheers!

You can't take it with you: Antares

Did you guys see the mouthful Antares left me at the end of my last post? Hahahaha, that is so Antares lah, it will probably take me a week to decipher - along with help from an online dictionary, wikipedia, and a host of other things I'd need to Google to do it justice.

Here's how he opened his comment on my post:

Pat, as Osho once said, the most secure place in the world is in a wooden box buried six feet underground. It doesn't matter how rich one is or how much one has invested in "security." It only takes a nasty virus to kill you - and there's no way you can prevent a nasty virus from sneaking past your immune system!

And that got me to thinking about what he'd said. And I agree, I can't take it with me. And I wouldn't, even if I could.

Sometime at the beginning of this year, I realised that the one thing I wanted more than 'stuff' was people: my Chuan, my daughter Larnee, my son Daniyal, my mother, my friends .... You get the picture.

And for most of the time, that is what I do not have around. Chuan works all day, and especially so now that it is the end of the year. Both my children are away - and it doesn't look like they will be with me anytime soon. My friends I see once in a while - what with their work and their jobs and their own families....

The one constant is my mum. I was resentful when she first came to stay, and I felt my space being invaded by someone I'd lost touch with, and with whom I'd no longer felt comfortable. But now, close to a whole year together, I find that we can be friends after all, and it's all good :)

And that brings me back to my 'stuff'. So since I'd decided that people were all that mattered, what was I doing with all this stuff that was sucking the oxygen out of my air?

Easily remedied. And Antares is right when he says what he says. And that came home to hit me with a vengeance.

So I walked around my home and dug through all the 'stuff' we'd accumulated over the 28 years of living together. Most of it we didn't need; or want; or would know what to do with if we were to decide to keep it! A lot of it was bought; some of it given to us; and a whole bunch of stuff we have no idea of where or when or who about - how it got here is anyone's guess. Does your storeroom or house look like this?

Well, I decided that the best thing to do would be to make like Santa Claus (that's him with me in the pix on the top right. We met when I was in Canada last year. He arranged for lots of snow for me, and even 13 snow storms - while I was there ;)

So my maid got a lovely tea set from China; others got sarees (don't ask, I don't wear them, k); bowls and plates and assorted mugs and cups and saucers went to the guy who looks after my place in PD while we are not here; the Salvation Army got the rest.

And it feels good. Lighter.

So you're thinking we'll revert to form and start accumulating again? Hmmm, maybe - if I leave Chuan alone, we will. He says its in his genes. Me? I have a 'throw-out' gene: throw out first, ask you if you needed it later ;)

But if you haven't used something in the past 6 months, and you don't even know that it's there... that means you should get rid of it lah. Chances are, if you need the very same thing you don't know you already have stored under all your junk - you'll just go out and buy it anyway!

Oh, and the one thing I didn't do? Throw away my books ;) I did cull some stuff from the shelves - books I'd read and didn't want to read again. I gave those away. I also lend books I've read and ask that they don't be returned - just passed on to someone else to read and enjoy. So I'm cool with my books. No hoarding here! hahahah

But things are things. Just stuff. Maybe good to fill an empty space in your heart sometimes. But not anymore... and not for me.

Massive landslide at Bukit Antarabangsa

Given the days after days of heavy rain, this was a disaster waiting to happen. And it did.

The Star carries the story here.

Four people were killed in the landslide, and many others injured. It was reported that many had to be taken by helicopter to hospital.

I hear that our DPM has said that no more permits will be issued for hill development. Huh? I thought that was what was decided after the Highland Towers tragedy. Do I remember wrong?

I have watched the sheets of rain come down over KL and wondered at the houses I see perched pricariously on hillsides. Most of the houses I've seen from the highway, are in upmarket areas: in Bangsar or PJ - and I've thought: these are rich areas. I hope they've paid particular attention to the foundations when they were building.

Now I find I'm wrong again: who gives a flying fig about your foundation when the whole bloody hill comes pouring down onto your front door?! How do you prepare yourself for something like this? Aren't there supposed to be regulations that govern where and how you build your home? Isn't this the kinda thing that architects and engineers and the drainage and irrigation people look into? Before they say 'yah, go ahead and build here?'?! Is this going to be labelled another 'act of god'? Whoa, god seems to have been mighty busy here in Malaysia these last couple of months or so.

How do we console the families who have lost their loved ones, and their homes? Nothing can compensate for this kind of violation of trust.

I pray for the families who have lost loved ones, and for all those who are affected.

'Be kind to our bodies' week

Ok, I just made that up. Hahaha!

But the bits below just found me, and I thought it was useful for us to know these things about ourselves. ESPECIALLY since I find that most lah, no all, of my friends here are kinda oldie- moldies like moi ;)

So here's some stuff you may not already know (my asides in blue italics):

Different parts of our bodies, age at different times

WE all accept that getting older is inevitable, and now leading clinicians have revealed the exact age when different body parts start to decline, most alarming being the brain and lungs. French doctors have found that the quality of men's' sperm starts to deteriorate by 35, so that by the time a man is 45 a third of pregnancies end in miscarriage.

Here, with the help of leading clinicians, Angela Epstein tells the ages when different parts of the body start to lose their battle with time.

BRAIN - Starts Ageing At 20

As we get older, the number of nerve cells - or neurons - in the brain decrease. We start with around 100 billion, but in our 20s this number starts to decline. By 40, we could be losing up to 10,000 per day, affecting memory, co-ordination and brain function. (But there's nothing that says we should just let this be - and be bodoh. They also say that learning a new skill - like playing the piano, or learning French so you can talk with your son-in-law to be ;) and even playing games on the pc where you are required to think or be quick - all these can help us stave off what time has so unkindly pre-decided for us!)

GUT - Starts Ageing At 55

A healthy gut has a good balance betwee harmful and 'friendly' bacteria. But levels of friendly bacteria in the gut drop significantly after 55, particularly in the large intestine.

As a result, we suffer from poor digestion and an increased risk of gut disease. Constipation is more likely as we age, as the flow of digestive juices from the stomach, liver, pancreas and small intestine slows down. (Stuff like yoghurt - although Don't Play Puks says it's banned - is good here; but not the iffy stuff they sell in the supermarts. Get the good stuff - think Yindian restaurant here, no Knights? and start eating. Singhalese households finish their meals with really thick curd (yoghurt lah) with gaggery - gula melaka - or melted brown sugar drizzled over the whole. Never cold, but at room temperature. Oi! Don't knock it till you've tried it, k)

BREASTS - Start Ageing At 35

By their mid-30s, women's breasts start losing tissue and fat, reducing size and fullness. Sagging starts properly at 40 and the areola (the area surrounding the nipple) can shrink considerably. (Also called 'flying south for the winter' by moi - if I knew what to do here, I'd be doing it. Invest in stainless steel underwires lah, is my best guess )

BLADDER - Starts Ageing At 65

Loss of bladder control is more likely when you hit 65. Women are more vulnerable to bladder problems as, after the menopause, declining oestrogen levels make tissues in the urethra - the tube through which urine passes - thinner and weaker, reducing bladder support. Bladder capacity in an older adult generally is about half that of a younger person - about two cups in a 30-year-old and one cup in a 70-year-old.... (sini saya ada idea!! hahahaha! There are pelvic floor exericses - call kegels - which can help with bladder control. All you need to do is to clench and unclench them whenever you remember. Clench 1-2-3-4-5, and release. Don't know where they are? Try peeing - and then stopping in mid-stream. THAT's the muscle you want ;)

LUNGS - Start Ageing At 20

Lung capacity slowly starts to decrease from the age of 20. By the age of 40, some people are already experiencing breathlessness. This is partly because the muscles and the rib cage which control breathing stiffen up. (so uncle/aunty, yif you're smoking, aiyoh, please lah, stop awreddy, k)

VOICE - Starts Ageing At 65

Our voices become quieter and hoarser with age. The soft tissues in the voice box (larynx) weaken, affecting the pitch, loudness and quality of the voice. A woman's voice may become huskier and lower in pitch, whereas a man's might become thinner and higher. (ok lah, I don't know how to help you guys who start soundling like startled mice. But my Chuan has a lovely deeeeeeeeeeeeep voice, that my girlfriends just lurve, so I'm thinking up a few octaves oso ok lor. But ladies, won't we all just lurrrrve sounding huskier - read that as sexier. Totally cool, no? At last, something that works for us :)

EYES - Start Ageing At 4

Glasses are the norm for many over-40s as failing eyesight kicks in, usually long-sightedness, affecting our ability to see objects up close. (Ok, here I have to ask Zaharan: he used to wear glasses, but not now. How come, Zar? The rest of us? Well, only when we have our cataracts out lah, and they insert new lenses. Then can bat our eyelids again, or raise eyebrows or whatever you like - without the glasses)

HEART - Starts Ageing At 40

The heart pumps blood less effectively around the body as we get older. This is because blood vessels become less elastic, while arteries can harden or become blocked because of fatty deposits forming on the coronary arteries - caused by eating too much saturated fat. The blood supply to the heart is then reduced, resulting in painful angina. Men over 45 and women over 55 are at greater risk of a heart attack. (estrogen helps us girls for a bit, but at 55 that's when it's kinda gone. One way I know to keep it strong is aerobic exercise. So I try to get on my eliptical trainer every other day and do at least 30 mins to an hour. I said, try, k. And when I feel lazy, I tell myself my children and Chuan will miss me if I croak, so I get off my bum and make for that machine, turn on the radio and sing with The Script about 'the man who can't be moved'. Hahahaha)

LIVER - Starts Ageing At 70

This is the only organ in the body which seems to defy the aging process. (I think mine's ok - with the gentle aid of my magaritas and daiquiris... MUAHAHAHA!)

KIDNEYS - Starts Ageing At 50

With kidneys, the number of filtering units (nephrons) that remove waste from the bloodstream starts to reduce in middle age. (Be kind to your kidneys and drink lots of water, to help it flush out the toxins. The water keeps things dilute and easier for them to manage.)

PROSTATE - Starts Ageing At 50

The prostate often becomes enlarged with age, leading to problems such as increased need to urinate, says Professor Roger Kirby, director of the Prostate Centre in London . This is known as benign prostatic hyperplasia and affects half of men over 50, but rarely those under 40. It occurs when the prostate absorbs large amounts of the male sex hormone testosterone, which increases the growth of cells in the prostate. A normal prostate is the size of a walnut, but the condition can increase this to the size of a tangerine. (Men can do a psa test to see how well their prostates are doing. And start doing it by at least 50. Forewarned is forearmed, no? Please note the spelling, it is NOT pRostRate. Got it? Prostrate is what the chinaman did before his emperor, k, before he went, 'Off with his head?!)

BONES - Start Ageing At 35

'Throughout our life, old bone is broken down by cells called osteoclasts and replaced by bone-building cells called osteoblasts - a process called bone turnover,' explains Robert Moots, professor of rheumatology at Aintree University Hospital in Liverpool . Children's bone growth is rapid - the skeleton takes just two years to renewitself completely. In adults, this can take ten years. Until our mid-20s, bone density is still increasing. But at 35 bone loss begins as part of the natural ageing process. (so those humungous tonnes of calcium supplements Amway and the other multi-level companies tell us we so NEED, we don't lah. Just the stuff in our veg, and in milk cukup lah. And if you're not convinced, maybe one multi-vit, or if you do supplement cos you don't eat well, or digest stuff well, then a normal dose should do, no? Too much of anything in your system just taxes your kidneys and makes for nutritiously-expensive pee, man!)

TEETH - Start Ageing At 40

As we age, we produce less saliva, which washes away bacteria, so teeth and gums are more vulnerable to decay. Receding gums - when tissue is lost from gums around the teeth - is common in adults over 40. (my dad died at 79 with most of his teeth, and mum has most of hers too, :) so I figure I have good genes, so I can be cocky! MUAHAHAHA!)

MUSCLES - Start Ageing At 30

Muscle is constantly being built up and broken down, a process which is well balanced in young adults. However, by the time we're 30, breakdown is greater than buildup, explains Professor Robert Moots. Once adults reach 40, they start to lose between 0.5 and 2 per cent of their muscle each year. Regular exercise can help prevent this. (I don't think I ever had a muscle, only fat holds me body to me skeleton, so it doesn't bother me that they die or are dead now.)

HEARING - Starts Ageing Mid-50s

More than half of people over 60 lose hearing because of their age, according to the Royal National Institute for the Deaf. (I think men fair worse than women here, but I could be wrong. But there are things called 'hearing aids' - I'm being facetious, k - and if you don't have any hangups you can put them on and hear again :)

SKIN - Starts Ageing Mid-20s

The skin starts to age naturally in your mid-20s. (I think lines and little wrinkles on a face are not a bad thing. I'm 52, and I really think I'd look odd if I didn't have any. Have you seen Priscilla Presley or Joan Rivers? they're in their 60s or older, and their faces look like young girls' faces, and they speak like marionettes - someone's pulling their strings, I tell ya' - freaky, man - so, no thank you very much.)

TASTE AND SMELL - Start Ageing At 60

We start out in life with about 10,000 taste buds scattered on the tongue. This number can halve later in life. After we turn 60, taste and smell gradually decline, partly as a result of the normal ageing process. (I think if you're a smoker, this is only hastened. So that will explain why oldy-moldies like extra salt or tauyu on their food. Very no-the-taste lah, hard to makan ;)

FERTILITY - Starts Ageing At 35

Female fertility begins to decline after 35, as the number and quality of eggs in the ovaries start to fall. The lining of the womb may become thinner, making it less likely for a fertilised egg to take, and also creating an environment hostile to sperm. (Oi! This is a bad thing? How? Why? I don't want to be no mama when I am 65 lah, so thank you again, man!)

HAIR - Starts Ageing At 30

Male hair loss usually begins in the 30s. Hair is made in tiny pouches just under the skin's surface, known as follices. A hair normally grows from each follicle for about three years, is then shed, and a new hair grows. Most people will have some grey hair by the age of 35. When we are young, our hair is coloured by the pigments produced by cells in the hair follicle known as melanocytes. (Being a confessed sexist, I must admit to finding bald men damn attractive; also men who are greying, or all grey look really cool to me. Though, I think it is not the colour or lack of hair - is the older-so-wiser idea, you know? I cannot stand bodoh-people, and young boys are mostly bodoh. hahahah. I know there are no young boys reading my blog, and if they do, they've not stayed with me till here ;) So me thinks I'm preeeeety safe )

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So there's no need to crawl into your coffins and wait, people. No need to sigh, put your hand over your forehead and say: 'Kill me now already!'

We're ok lah - a little bit here and there, and we're good to go for a few years more, no?

How to stop cussing

A young man named John received a parrot as a gift. The parrot had a bad attitude and an even worse vocabulary. Every word out of the bird's' mouth was rude, obnoxious and laced with profanity.

John tried and tried to change the bird's attitude by consistently saying only polite words, playing soft music and anything else he could think of to "clean up" the bird's vocabulary.

Finally, John was fed up and he yelled at the parrot. The parrot yelled back. John shook the parrot and the parrot got angrier and even ruder.

John, in desperation, threw up his hand, grabbed the bird and put him In the freezer. For a few minutes the parrot squawked and kicked and screamed. Then suddenly there was total quiet.
Not A Peep, was heard for over a minute.

Fearing that he'd hurt the parrot, John quickly opened the door to the Freezer. The parrot calmly stepped out onto John's outstretched arms and said "I believe I may
have offended you with my rude language and actions. I'm sincerely remorseful for my inappropriate transgressions and I fully intend to do everything I can to correct my rude and Unforgivable behaviour."

John was stunned at the change in the bird's attitude. As he was about to ask the parrot what had made such a dramatic change in his behaviour, the bird continued, "May I ask, what did the turkey do?"

WINDsong in December

Here's a slideshow of my garden, in Port Dickson... Enjoy:

The boy in the striped pyjamas

Every once in a while, a book reaches out to me from its dusty place in a corner of a bookshelf, in the middle of one of my regular book haunts. And when this happens, and it chooses me, I never say no.

Boyne's The boy in the striped pyjamas did just that - when I was innocently shopping for Christmas gifts - books! :) - for my nephew and nieces now in Labuan.

So if I wasn't looking for a book on Rowena's list, I wouldn't have been in the middle of the kids' section, and I would never have seen this book, and it would never have caught my eye, and I would never have read it.

First off, the back blurb didn't help me at all. This is what it said:

The story of 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' is very difficult to describe. Usually we give some clues about the book on the cover, but in this case we think that would spoil the reading of the book. We think it is important that you start to read without knowing what it is about. If you do start to read this book, you will go on a journey with a nine-year-old boy called Bruno. (Though this isn't a book for nine-year-olds.) And sooner or later you will arrive with Bruno at a fence. We hope you never have to cross such a fence.

So that's how it got me.

I took my oh-so-heavy purchases home that day... and just chucked the entire lot on the dining table. But not before rummaging for this book. I took it upstairs, lay down on my bed, and began reading ....

I have studied history, and heard about the horrors of what man does to man. But this time, in Pyjamas, I saw the world through the eyes of a nine-year-old - just like it says on the back. I thought I knew it all - but I've never been so wrong.

As I turned the pages, I thought my 'universe-speaking-to-me' feeling had sorta got cross-wired. I mean, here was this little fler, living with his mum and teenaged sister, in a house with servants, and good things, and parties....

And then, as I read, I wonder at the names he 'gives' to people and places: his dad's boss, whom his mum seems kinda afraid of, he calls: 'The Fury'; the place they have to move to, in the country, where his dad will be the new commandant, he and his sister talk of as: 'Out With'. Oh, and did I mention that the city they had to leave, to move to the country? Berlin.

I haven't given that much away - but a little more than the back blurb does. After the first couple of chapters, which will take you like maybe ten minutes? ... if you're a slow reader ... and you'd be guessing yourself already. And correctly.

This book is meant for kids. Maybe a tennish or so upwards? Rowena is eight - but Rowena could read a 15-yeaer-old under the table! So she doesn't count. But if you think you're too old for this book - you're so not right.

The subject matter of the text is such old news to us. No one among us does not know a little, or a whole lot, about it all. Or so we think.

The horror of the book, the way a frisson ran down my back - that comes from the innocents and how they look at the world around them. Bit by bit, Boyne prepares you for what eventually happens. If you are a worst-case-senario reader like me, you'll guess the ending.

But even though I guessed correctly... I still sat and stared at the last words on the page ... my lips slightly parted ... tears welling in my eyes.

This is one book I want back on my bookshelf. But I don't have it anymore. I'd bought it for me, but I included it in the bundle I sent off to Labuan with the 'Merry Christmas' wish.

It was too special, and too beautifully haunting, to not share....