Faramir, Gimli, chocolatine

November 22, 2017

A well-made chocolatine is a thing of happiness; a well-made chocolatine with a well-brewed cup of tea, well, is cause for great satisfaction. I tried to find a previous post on the viennoiserie, but ended up scrolling through sad, difficult records of France; misunderstandings and distance; i had forgotten.

A child on the train is wailing and struggling; his helper trying her best to hold onto him. His continuous cries are distressing, until us commuters discover he is crying because he wants to sit on the floor. I don’t know whether to laugh or fear.

It’s evening now. The weather has been rainy and cool, my favourite kinda feel. I wish the monsoon lasted nine months of the year. Yummy rain.

Daddy told Nat something sometime ago, which makes me think that the time to return the debt of love is coming soon. I’m not sure I’m ready but we can take it one year at a time, and also we have resources. It’s hard to peer into the crystal ball but that’s not what we’re called to do, anyhow.

Also, these two quotes make me want to read lotr again:

For myself,’ said Faramir, ‘I would see the White Tree in flower again in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace: Minas Anor again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves. War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men may fear the dignity of a man, old and wise.
‘So fear me not! I do not ask you to tell me more. I do not even ask you to tell me whether I now speak nearer the mark. But if you will trust me, it may be that I can advise you in your present quest, whatever that be–yes, and even aid you'”

Book IV, Ch. V

Another bed was set beside him for his servant. Sam hesitated for a moment, then bowing very low: ‘Good night, Captain, my lord,’ he said. ‘You took the chance, sir.’
‘Did I so?’ said Faramir.
‘Yes sir, and showed your quality: the very hightest.’
Faramir smiled. ‘A pert servant, Master Samwise. But nay: the praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards. Yet there was naught in this to praise. I had no lure or desire to do other than I have done.’
‘Ah well, sir,’ said Sam, ‘you said my master had an elvish air; and that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of–well, Gandalf, of wizards.’
‘Maybe,’ said Faramir. ‘Maybe you discern from far away the air of Númenor. Good night!'”

Book IV, Ch. V


November 10, 2017

Today, facebook reminded me of an event five years ago. A photo of my chin nearly resting on your shoulder, an album titled 动物园。we looked different five years ago. you are handsomer now; I am surprised at how skinny I was.

Nearly resting on your shoulder, yet not quite- you still had more of the day planned. We would walk changi along the setting sun as you waited for news from your siblings that the candles had been set- then drive to pasir ris park and me following as you strolled nonchalantly down a path before pointing out some lights amongst the grass. Then the bench nearby, where you sat me down and explained that this was in your eyes as certain as a proposal, and indeed, three months later we were engaged, after you invited my parents to tea and asked for my hand.

hullo, dearest, you were my first boyfriend, the only one I said yes to, although others asked and I led them along till they dropped, or I did. No regrets with you, ever, even in the loneliest days of the past three years when we were still new, our marriage already weathering testing.

Five years, and who we were then could not have imagined the journey and who we are now, together. But darling, you are my joy, my laughter, the one I love most in the world.

My belly is hicupping

October 27, 2017

1. This week, I have been trying to diet (read: not do the usual free-wheel indulgence that has been my life). It’s been remarkably unsuccessful.

2. We’re getting things together, but there’s getting things, and together. Need to get the nursery in shape; it’s currently a series of plastic bags on the floor. The storeroom, too. There is no light in the storeroom.

3. And medicinal herbs- how is it possible that one little thing can generate so many completely new items for its arrival, and why isn’t the world more up in arms about the phenomenon. I mean, “preparing the nursery” just doesn’t cut it. “Requires a university degree” would be more accurate.

4. Either it didn’t take much for me to acquire my degree, or things are as complicated as I say. Or, I am just weak and the list is too long for me.

5. This weekend is too full of baby stuff. Hopefully we’ll be able to squeeze in a paktor.

6. Final comment: I didn’t intend to post anything vaguely angsty. But I sound grumpy.

Up till now/30 weeks

October 18, 2017

I have not felt any wonder, awe of silence, at what’s happening, at this child, what I’m growing inside me. This is the first post in which he appears. A newcomer to this space.
My belly moves independently, this way and that; I watch dispassionately.  Sometimes i place my hands there; I do not know why.  When the movement is too human, too undeniably sentient, I quickly move my hands away.

We haven’t settled on a name for him. My other friends fret and accommodate their growths; no lifestyle change too inconvenient for their offspring’s sake. Mine has been too polite to require any obligation on my part. I sit and watch my belly move. Children’s music doesn’t play in our home. John checks in with baby more than I do.

My husband snores gently after dinner, long legs hanging off where heads are designed to be placed. His family sleeps in any, every position. I call it their superpower. I hear him sleeping, and my heart loves him more than baby.

I wonder if my parcel to France got delivered; I believe it did. I suspect they’re sending a parcel in return, but worry my handwriting was too atrocious, that my address will be incorrect and it won’t make it back to me and it’d be my fault.
I need to reply to an Australian letter too, with news.

I didn’t do much today. Had lunch with a heavily pregnant friend, impressed by her patience for her toddler. Closed my eyes at home while John watched something about apes. Lying beside him now while he naps, snores gone because he turned his head. It has been a hot and lethargic day; I am thankful that air-conditioning exists. Perhaps in the crazy years to come when energy sources deplete, the earth will be baking hot and no respite forthcoming for the love of money.

Why create then? Since it’s going to get worse. I remember a conversation years ago- there were two reasons. I forgot the first, but the second because creation reflects God and since even our worst selves are redeemed in Him, we have hope. We always have hope.

Rereading my words, I feel a tad guilty.  Others sing to their stomach, try to form a relationship with the next generation.  Me, my friends talk to my child more than I do.
The way i currently see it: this child isn’t mine, not really. he’s a gift. I’m a steward. I desire to raise him right. I hope that’s good enough. And then maybe the rest will come.

Hello, October

October 2, 2017


You bring with you my favourite man,
brunch memories,
and the promise of Christmas


September 1, 2017

I was surprised and dismayed,
when I realised that coming to an empty house bothers me.
It never used to matter, in Australia, France, or Singapore.
I accepted that the places I lived in were meant to be silent.

Six months of you and your animation, interaction and life between the two of us
Changed my understanding of home
Home is lively and home is seeing your smiling face turned towards me

So I’m finding it difficult to go back to where I was before
Comfortable with stepping into a still apartment, filled with objects that will not move.

Most nights I’ve walked the house in darkness, perhaps stopping by the kitchen for a drink before heading to the bedroom
There’s no point in turning on the lights when there’s nobody to see.


Are you free for a call?
Hello, my pillar of support’
‘Hello, the roof over my head, and foundation of my heart’.


August 29, 2017

Yesterday, i swept the floors, mopped them, washed the bathroom, did the laundry, cleared the laundry, sent the sheets and duvets to be cleaned. When i rattled off the list, you commented I’m more productive when you’re gone.  Perhaps, but not quite; it’s true i hadn’t done them much just before you left, but that was because I wanted to be near you.

Today you flew in the back seat of an F16, it’s 1547hrs on your side. What are you doing now? I sound like a lovesick teenager and this is your fault. How did you get so close; under the skin of my beating heart.