Lions! Tigers and bears! Oh my!!

Well, OK, not the tigers and bears but three lions. Enough to intrigue Rupert so much that he forgot to bark. He also backed away from the window as the lions advanced down the path, until he was all backed up against the sofa and couldn't retreat any more.

The lion dance was part of some festival for Kwan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, organised by our downstairs neighbour who's some sort of medium or devotee, along with a puppet show. The furkids were mesmerised by everything. I missed everything, I was at work. The pix were taken by L to show me what I missed. Not shown is a vegetarian meal, to which he was constantly shouted invitations to whenever the neighbours saw him standing at the window watching the goings-on.

Apparently I also missed the neighbour putting his hand to Rupert and Queeni's forehead (she didn't protest, and she normally would if she didn't know you and you tried to touch her) in a blessing. I've always been disappointed that no church in this country does a blessing of the animals service for St Francis of Assissi's saint day. But hey, now they've got Kwan Yin's blessing.

Lying in state

Here's how Queeni watches TV. Note that the royal head needs a pillow. All that's missing is Rupert peeling her grapes. I don't have to do the bit where I stand in attendance and fan her gently because she's lying on the part of the couch that gets the draft from the airconditioning.

3D puzzle

When we first moved in about two years ago, this lamp was a housewarming gift from C, who bought it in Thailand on one of his frequent trips there. It's actually comprised of flat little plastic rectangles with hook-like corners and you hook all the rectangles together and they somehow magically form a sphere. It's a really clever piece of design.

Knowing what a klutz I am and how anti-DIY L is, C had warned us that it required a little assembly. But by the time he gave it to us, he quite kindly took pity on us and put it together for us, complete with a light bulb. We were still renovating then and we simply handed the assembled lamp to the electrician who installed it for us. When we needed to change the bulb, we just had to unhook a panel, reach in, screw the bulb off and put a new one in, C instructed.

That was last week. It seemed simple enough. Only when I hooked the panels back up, the beautifully perfect sphere wasn't perfect and I know I messed it up somehow and a couple of panels aren't where they're supposed to be.

L, with his statistics background, says there's a mathematical formula to it. I'll be damned if I, the maths failure in school, needed to apply maths to changing a light bulb. I just slotted slats back where they could fit and let it be, beautiful perfect sphere of a lamp be damned. The statistician, being a non-DIY guy, didn't help beyond postulating mathematical theories. He'll fix it later. One very fine day. Or until the next bulb change.

So how many statisticians does it take to change a light bulb?

Fun at the supermarket

First, I couldn't find the Marmite. It wasn't with the bottled sauces and it wasn't with the soups. That's what I use the yeast extract for so I didn't knew where else to look for it. I finally found it by accident -- next to the bread. So that means that Marmite on toast isn't a solely British thing nor as cultivated a taste as I thought.

Then I came across breakfast flavoured milk. I didn't know breakfast was a flavour and now I'm curious as to what lunch and dinner flavours taste like.


But nothing can be as interesting as absurd seafood...

Wheels go on the road

I'd recently written about a pet peeve being cyclists on footpaths. They are an accident waiting to happen and L had a near miss yesterday. Someone cycled down the footpath behind him and he didn't even know she was bearing down on him till the mud-guard of her front wheel came into contact with the back of his leg.

He spun round, letting fly a torrent of blue words. The elderly cyclist responded just as vociferously as she pedalled off. She spoke in Chinese dialect, which L doesn't understand very well but enough to distinguish that far from apologising for hitting him, she was giving him what-for for giving her what-for. She's jolly lucky he didn't fall over or was hurt any more badly than a bruise on his calf. Or there'd be hell to pay. And that's just from him.

I think some cyclists don't want to go on the roads because they feel that they'll be at the mercy of *real* traffic. The result is that they ride on the footpaths and then pedestrians will be at their mercy. I'm sure we can compromise somehow. Don't ride up behind people who don't have eyes at the back of their heads. Or build more cycle paths. They're not unknown. We have them in parks. But the point is that a lot of people don't just cycle in parks for fun. In housing estates like ours, they cycle to the shops too. And more and more people I know are cycling to work. Our ministers who tell us to take more public transport don't seem to acknowledge that cycling is also an alternative fuel-free form of transport. And that as such, you need to provide for cyclists too.

Owww

I wrenched a muscle in my back. Again. This time, I did myself in when I dropped a slippery piece of soap and it skittered into a pail of water that was standing next to the sink. Almost without thinking, I bent over quickly to retrieve it. And that did it.

I'm very cross with myself because I know I should have squatted down instead of bending over -- all that stuff that the physiotherapist taught me.

And I thought I had been so good with the physio and yoga threapy exercises the past 10 months or so. Since the last time I stupidly wrenched my back simply by getting off the sofa. I do them at least three to five times a week and had felt my back getting stronger. Apparently not. Or maybe stronger but not strong, because at least this time round, the muscle pull isn't as bad as last time.

I think my body is telling my mind that I'm middle aged. Ouch. That hurts.

Sun dog

It's not just a bulge in the curtains. It's Roop sitting at the window in the sun that's streaming in when we get out of bed. This has become a daily habit for him now, he'll take a little sunbath while I have a quick cup of coffee before we go downstairs for the first walk of the day.

To me, it's a sign that he's become a little calmer at two-and-a-half years. Previously, he used to follow me about, watching my every move in case he'd miss something. It wasn't so much attachment as his acute need to be part of a pack.

Now, he's coming into his own and developing his own habits, and that's nice to see. What's also nice is that he's got enough control over his bladder now and doesn't need to be rushed downstairs the very first thing and I can enjoy a wake-up cup of caffeine first.

Sheer laziness

Getting three legs out of four up on the couch with you aint bad.

Desperately Seeking Mas Selamat

I took this pix a while ago and forgot about it. It is a bookmark that serves as an invitation to the launch of a new local search engine. At the bottom of the the bookmark, in the mock-up of the search web portal, some one had inked in the "Find" square, the name of the escaped alleged terrorist who is still at large.

Somebody is wicked. Very wicked. Delightfully wicked.

Digging up bones

This was what was found under the sofa. Twice as many bones as dogs -- and that's just what was kicked under the sofa, there's more scattered about -- in different varieties of textures, shapes and flavours, all for their chewing pleasure.

Dang, not only have they taken over the sofa, they've taken over the space under the sofa.

The good, the bad and the ugly

Two radio DJs have started this project where you're encouraged to video the good, the bad and the ugly side of Singaporeans and podcast it. It all started when one of them tried to leave a lift but someone else was adamant on entering it and blocked his way. It's a familiar situation for many of us, I think, and it also applies to train doors.

So that's why he thinks there are going to be more bad and ugly videos than good. Though to be fair, he emphasised that if you're going to shoot something bad, you should also shoot something good. The results would be interesting.

My only question is, how do I shoot cyclists who are coming up the footpath behind me, ringing their bell, scaring me out of my skin and then expect me to jump out of their way? (By shoot, I'm not restricting myself to video. An M-16 would do just as well.) That is one of my top peeves. It happens very frequently, and it did yesterday. I yelled at the cyclist that he has ****ing wheels and should be on the ****ing road and not the footpath. So if he'd whipped out his cellphone then, I would be the ugly one.

A couple of weeks ago, the same thing happened. On the same footpath to the train station. The cyclist came up from behind, whizzed past me, narrowly missing me. Further up the path, he wobbled where the path was uneven, veered onto the grass, tipped over and fell. He wasn't really hurt and by the time he was picking up his bike, I had caught up with him. And I laughed. In his face. Oh lord, I was ugly. But it felt good.

Been at the music store

I enjoyed the movie Shine a Light so much that I had to go get the soundtrack. And since I was at the CD shop, I also got the new Bryan Adams and the not-so-new Bon Jovi.

I had meant to get the Bon Jovi when it came out last year but dithered because nothing in it really grabbed me although it was all very listenable and in the end, I guess I sort of forgot about it. I liked Bon Jovi very much back in the 80s but then I was much younger. Now, it's one of those embarrassing 80s moments that you don't want to linger over.

L used to sneer at Bon Jovi, all backbeat and big hair, he said. At least, they've all got decent haircuts now. The backbeat is still there but they're sounding more subdued. I think the one thing that has made me stick with them still is that they're still straightahead rock 'n' roll. A bit sugary now and then but they have never condescended to slide into pop. They've still maintained that bit o f edginess.

Much to my surprise then, L took to the "new" Bon Jovi album. It had mostly to do with one of the tracks, We Got It Going On and everything to do with its lyrics: "We got it going on / We'll be bangin' and sangin' just like the Rolling Stones / we're gonna shake up your souls / We've come to rattle your bones"

The Stones are everywhere!

At home with Hockney

Photography courtesy of L

Read a good book lately

I'm a terrible fisherman, I don't have the patience for it and I can rarely bring myself to eat something that I've killed.

And that's why I never read Norman Maclean's A River Runs Through It. Fly fishing is pretty alien to an urbanised Singaporean. Even when Robert Redford turned it into a movie with Brad Pitt in it, I still wasn't interested.

And then I came across the book's 25th anniversary edition in the library. It had a quiet cover with a simple pencil and ink drawing of a fly on it. Always one to judge a book by its cover, I borrowed it. Actually, I took it because it has a foreword by Annie Proulx and I was more interested in what she had to say because I've always enjoyed her books.

And I was -- err -- hooked. Line. And sinker. Except that I don't think there are sinkers in fly fishing. Right from the opening line -- "In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing."

In my -- err -- book, that's an opening line that ranks up with Austen's "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." Funny how you can remember word for word a good opener of a book you first read 25 years ago. Guess I fall for a good pick up line anytime.

A River Runs Through It is one of the most beautifully lyrical books I've read in a long while. I just wonder how it was possible to capture it into a movie. Even if it's Robert Redford.

You know it's football season...

I was sitting next to an elderly Malay man on the bus when another elderly Malay chap got on. They obviously knew each other because they did that hand-to-heart handshake and the second guy sat on the next row and the two began a conversation -- none of which I understood.

sdsdfjwerrjkv ... injury time... poiuder werjkjkl; rerwlj kj;jwer ... free kick ... sdfwejk @#!@#!!!

Aah, they were talking about Euro 2008.

Being Singaporean

I think we've met the conservative greyhead of the estate. You know the type. Elderly retired gentleman, used to being in a position of authority, has a view on everything and his view is always right.

We were walking the dogs, Rupert on leash and Queeni trotting alongside offleash. She usually ignores everyone and goes about her business but our paths crossed Greyhead's and he muttered something at her so she snorted at him and went on her way. Snorted. Not barked. Nor even growled.

Don't worry, she's tame, L assured Greyhead. Greyhead then lectured L about the virtues of keeping a dog on leash, "they could go wild on you anytime," he emphasised. "Oh really, you're an expert on safety?" enquired a now irritated L.

We're always mindful that dogs are really domesticated wolves. Queeni does get leashed when there are children about and we're always mindful of the Muslim neighbours. So I guess L felt really unjustified about the impromptu lecture on dog behaviour.

Greyhead clearly wasn't used to people talking back to him and launched into a monologue, building up for the grand conclusion -- which was addressed to me because by then, he had drawn level with me as L had fallen back with Queeni who was busy sniffing at a tree.

"Singaporeans!" he thundered.

By which he probably meant that we were ill-mannered, inconsiderate, discourteous louts, the usual complaints one makes of Singaporeans.

What I don't get is that he obviously is Singaporean too. He's one of us. Unless he somehow thinks that he's better than us. Well, he's quite beyond me.

All that while, the elderly lady walking with Greyhead, probably his wife, kept her head down, ignored everything and stepped up her pace. I bet she knew too well what Greyhead is when he's home.

A Singaporean.

'It's Only Rock 'n' Roll (But I Like It)'

L and I went to watch Shine a Light yesterday evening. Great movie.

Only a few days ago, a colleague -- who had just recently discovered Scorsese's The Last Waltz but was dithering about watching Shine a Light because he had never been keen on The Rolling Stones -- had wondered if he should watch it on DVD or in the cinema.

Definitely the cinema. The big screen makes all the difference. It was like a front row ticket to a Stones concert. And at $7.50 for a movie ticket, it's definitely cheaper than the $500 for a front row seat to watch them when they came here a few years ago. (No, I didn't go. I didn't have $500. I figured I could spend that same amount on a whole, whole lot of CDs. L somewhat sourly said that he wasn't going to pay for a new liver for Keith Richards. He said it's been said that Richards gets a new one in Switzerland every year. Legacy of Jack Daniels.)

The only funny thing about watching a movie about the Stones in concert is that you get so caught up in the music, you forget you're not in a concert hall but a cinema -- and then you suddenly realise that nobody else is bopping around in their seats except you. The first five rows of the cinema were empty -- it was a weekday evening after all, and let's face it, it's a limited audience, you have to be of a certain age to want to watch the subject of this movie -- and I seriously debated if I should manouvre my way through all the people seated in my row and go sit in the empty rows where I could dance. Only having to move in the dark stopped me. And I had to stop myself from throwing my arms up mid-song or even clapping with the screen audience at the end of each number. It is not easy to sit to the Stones.

Just last week, another colleague laughed at me when I told her that Mick Jagger is my personal hero because he's proof that there's rock 'n' roll -- and hence, life -- after 60. The man is 20 years older than I am, and moves like he's 20 years younger.

There's something to be said for rock 'n' roll.

A conqueror's notes

When both humans are on the bed, try and wedge yourself between them. Then manoeuvre yourself to occupy the bed cross-wise. Make yourself as long as you can, stretch out your nose and your tail.

The humans will usually roll over and balance themselves on as little bed space as they can, without falling off the edge. Sometimes, you may even be able to prise one of them off the bed. They usually mutter something about going to the loo, and give you a sharp look as they stumble away. The loo is just an excuse. Victory is yours in terms of bed space.

When that happens, quickly occupy the vacated spot when it is still warm. But once it has lost its warmth, return to the remaining human and wedge yourself up against her. Take the spot between her legs if necessary, so she can't stretch them out properly.

It doesn't matter how much space there is left by the vacated human. The luxury of stretching out in that space is only temporary. The idea now is to take the remaining human's space.

And then the bed is ours!

O!l

Singapore's annual inflation rate stayed at 7.5 per cent in May, boosted by rising food, transport and housing costs, the government said on Monday.

As if to pre-empt that, the National Development Minister said on Saturday that fuel subsidies were not the way to go, and that even "neighbouring countries" are rethinking their subsidies. And recommended that people take public transport instead to cut costs.

I'm not expecting any subsidies. Hand-outs simply do not happen in you're-on-your-own Singapore. But I'm expecting a little less lip service from our ministers. This only looks slightly worse than the minister who, some years ago, drove to officiate a No-Car Day event.

I still haven't seen any of our MPs on the bus. But at least MPs in a "neighbouring country" have taken to biking to Parliament House. I've seen AFP pix so they must be somewhere on the Net too.

On yer bike, Mr Mah!

Queeni's turn

Just playing fair and following up a pix of Roop with one of Queeni. She's lying by L, belly-up, all the easier for him to give her a tummy rub. You'd think from the expression on her face that I was interrupting something.

Spa dog

L was using a piece to tissue to wipe his glasses and when he finished, he conveniently placed it over Roop's face. Roop just went to sleep, presumably assuming that someone turned off the lights.

Downward dog

It's easy. Just use the cushion as a yoga aid.

Oh, and all those bones next to Queeni do not belong to her. They're all Rupert's. HRH decided to annex them even though she doesn't really have the teeth for them.

His 'n' hers

And on the days that they don't want to share (read Queeni, really), he goes to his corner (in his crate) and she goes to her corner (on the sofa of course, she's the Queen).

If you can't make out what Queeni is doing, she is lying on her back, belly and all four legs up. Yup, she is revelling that the couch is hers, all hers. Queens are like that.

You take the high road, and I'll take the low road

... we'll put that stuffed dog between us and together, we'll share the couch quite nicely.

Down memory lane

My misspent childhood is coming back to haunt me. The Osmonds are here on a reunion tour this week and so are The Wynners. The Osmonds everybody knows. And even if they did sell out Wembley in an hour, I'm not rushing for tickets to their concert, I'm just too embarrassed. I'd rather forget about my Donny Osmond purple socks era. I plead juvenile ignorance, I was about 10 years old then. I still remember bolting through dinner on Saturday evenings so that I could beat my mother to the TV and could tune in to the Donny and Marie Show instead of her Chinese drama serials. And rushing to the music shop round the corner from my school when word went round that there's a new Donny and Marie album. And buying Fanfare magazine when Donny was the pin-up.

The Wynners are only a vague memory. They were a Hong Kong pop group that a cousin was into. I listened for a bit, maybe even bought a cassette (yes, those things) or two. My uncle used to take the mickey by calling them The Whiners instead of The Winners. I could name the members of the group once but not now. Same like how I've forgotten the names of the rest of the Osmond brothers. Funnily enough, the Osmonds names and songs came back quite readily when I saw them on Oprah.

And now, Get Smart has been made into a movie. I'm as enthusiastic about it as the Osmonds in concert. It just feels so wrong to sit through a movie-length version and in colour. It's just not Get Smart if Max doesn't walk down a long corridor of doors closing on him, uses his shoe phone and the whole thing isn't black & white (look, I'm not that old; when I started watching Get Smart, it was in afternoon off-peak reruns).

This lack of enthusiasm must mean that I'm old and jaded.

Bearing fruit

Somewhere in the housing estate across from my office is proof that teddy bears really do grow on trees.

Hitting the wall

No real reason for this picture, other than the fact that I was still playing with the new cellphone's camera. It takes sharper photos than the old one. This is a shot taken at the office rooftop where I eat my packed dinner.

At first, I wondered why anyone would place a park bench facing a wall, instead of facing the flowers at the other side of the rooftop garden. Or facing the view of the surrounding rooftops.

But then I realised that staring at a wall is not so daft after you've been staring at a computer for hours.

Weighty things

Just testing the new cellphone camera again. This tree stands by the path to the mall and I pass it all the time. Today, I realised that its low branches have been so weighted down by the rain that they are touching the ground.

L says that he's seen a guy stand under it in the evenings, practising on his trumpet.

iPhooey

I'm an Apple fan, having always used Macs -- unless I'm at work and then the Windows PC is really my employer's fault. I still have Macs that I'm not using, like a dinky Mac Classic that is still in working condition -- only there's not much you can do with it in this day and age. I mean, who even remembers black and white screens these days?

But I'm going to pass on the iPhone. First, it took too long time to get here. Second, it wasn't until yesterday that the mobile service provider which clinched the deal with Apple announced that it was going to offer the new 3G model. Third, it costs way too much.

And more importantly, it's because I already have a 3G phone. So I don't need to be among the first in Asia to have a 3G iPhone. On top of that, my 3G phone came free. OK, so I had to extend my mobile contract for two years to get that but it was no hardship. My mobile service provider offered this lure last month when it probably already knew that it didn't get the iPhone deal.

For the first time in a long while, Apple has stepped in with too little, too late. Phooey.

Meme

1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning

2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.

3. At the end of the post, the player tags 5 people and posts their name, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they've been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

What was I doing 10 years ago?

Pretty much the same thing, just at a different place, for a different publication and a different pay.

Five snacks I enjoy in a perfect, non weight-gaining world:

1. Ice cream sundae with all the works -- hot fudge sauce, whipped cream. And a cherry on top, of course.

2. Cake with ice cream on the side

3. Cookies

4. Prawn crackers

5. Potato chips

Five snacks I enjoy in the real world:

6. Tapioca crackers with chilli sambal

7. Ice cream -- it has to have bits of stuff in it, like chocolate chips or marshmallow bits. Plain flavours get boring after the second mouthful.

8. Yogurt -- "normal" or frozen

9. Fruit -- freshly cut or a fruit sorbet

10. Popcorn

Five things I would do if I were a billionaire:

1. Cut down on my working hours. I wouldn't quit, I like my job too much. But I would persuade my boss to let me work part time or just come in on the busy nights.

2. Buy some land and start a no-kill animal shelter. It pains me that Noah's Ark had to ship out to Johor because they couldn't renew their lease. Or maybe I'd just give the money to them, I don't think I have the resources to actually run a shelter.

3. Buy a car. L would have to drive. I never learnt how. Or I guess as a billionaire, I could get a chaffeur with the car.

4. Buy a weekend home in Bali. It will have to come with a private jet or at least membership into one of those pilot-and-jet services.

5. Set up a trust fund that will go towards funding Aids medication. If the government won't help people obtain live-saving anti-retrovirals, then dammit, I will.

Five jobs that I have had:

1. Salesperson in a book shop

2. Teacher

3. Reporter/journalist/staff writer -- different places, different designations, more or less the same job.

4. Sub-editor -- which is my current job. Good grief, I haven't done enough in my life to cover five jobs.

5.

Five of my habits:

1. Must have coffee first thing in the morning. Tea on a day off.

2. Must cuddle the dogs in bed before I can settle down to sleep.

3. I need separate shampoo and conditioner. Can't abide the two-in-one stuff, it makes you wonder if you should rinse it off straightaway (you don't want the shampoo on your hair that long) or leave it on for a while (or how will the conditioner have time to set in). The bottles of shampoo and conditioner have to be at the same level.

4. I use bar soap in the shower on the alternate days that I wash my hair and shower gel when I'm not. I'm just required to list habits, not explain them.

5. I use facial scrub on the days that I wash my hair and a gel cleanser on the days that I don't.

Five places I have lived:

1. Coventry, UK

2. Hong Kong

3. With my parents. In Singapore. I'm out of places as in countries.

4. Small cosy rental house in Changi Village by the sea -- one of the nicest rental places I ever had.

5. A rental flat in Sengkang. We liked the township so much, we bought our own flat in Sengkang two years ago.

Five people we should all get to know better: (A nice way of saying TAG!)

1. Funny the World

2. The Dahn Report

3. E-Hung

4. Benedict Says

5. Compaunmeri

Littlest member of the household

If I didn't point him out, you would miss him. He's that tiny speck of a lizard. There, on the floor. Between the edge of the table and the chair.

All the lizards in the house are called Jimi. This stemmed from the early days when we first moved in and I found a lizard overhead, clinging onto the recessed part of the living room ceiling that is painted to look like a cloudy sky. You know, Jimi Hendrix's "Kiss the Sky".

It was Roop who alerted L to Tiny Jimi on the floor by performing springing goat-like leaps around the chair under which Tiny Jimi had tried to hide. He was lying still, squarely under the chair where Roop couldn't reach him, however hard he tried to poke his nose under the chair's legs. Even a little lizard has more brains than That Dog. Who had to be sternly told that little lizards aren't live food.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Is this bag me?

L was putting away the grocery bags when he decided to put them on Roop instead (don't ask me why). Then he filled one with toys and slung the handle round Roop's neck. Roop, of course, managed to contort himself to get the toys out.

This probably means that it's a bad idea to have Roop carry home the shopping, he'll only get the stuff out of the bags and eat them on the way home.

Drats. Back to the drawing board.

There isn't enough room in here for the two of us

OK, I know, this is really Rupert's crate. But as Queen, it's completely natural that I can annex it and roll around in it. Why should he have a crate that is bigger than mine? Even if he's bigger than me? I'm the Queen! And then that stupid serf has to barge his way in. How's a royal to get her beauty sleep?

Security

... is a dog sleeping on your tummy.

And a human to lie on.

Portrait ... with food

The only way to get a picture of the two dogs together is when somebody else is eating.

Psst, look behind you

It's that impostor again, isn't it?

Sofa, so good

What, you want to sit on our sofa too?

"And I think to myself, what a wonderful world"

The same week that Nasa revisits Mars, somebody else makes an equally intriquing discovery in our own planet. Which only goes to show, there's a lot of wonder still in our own backyard.

Royal disdain

None of that hoi polloi cab sauv stuff for me, thank you. But a bordeaux, perhaps a Chateau Lafite, would be nice.

Queeni's experiment

If I sleep with my butt elevated, will all the blood rush to my head??

The Masked Avenger strikes!

As a follow-up to the previous post, the score, 48 hours later, is now:
Poop: 1
Pee: 2

All thanks to Rupert, Double-O Blur, licensed to poop.

The Masked Avengers

L was bathing the dogs (one after the other -- two together is impossible!) yesterday when he realised that the washcloth he uses on their faces was full of holes.


Go ahead, laugh, humans. We will avenge our b*ths yet! Poop is a solid weapon!!

Yin and Yang

The men don't get it

This is a poster for the annual Eat With Your Family Day and it's directed at the fathers. It's almost pathetic. It has to spell out for them what to do -- cook (one dish it says, not even a full meal is to be hoped for), or take your family out, or at the very least, bring home something they'd like to eat. And if the dads register their participation at a website, they stand a chance to win prizes.

What about mums? Shouldn't they win something for doing something they do all year round?

To absent friends

As the motto of this year's Aids Candlelight Memorial says, "never give up, never forget".

Leaping tall buildings in a single bound etc

It's not easy taking pictures of a jumping fox terrier...

... you end up taking shots of the baby gate instead ...


... but once you get it, it's spectacular!

Puppy love

You know your dogs love you when they lie down by the clothes that you've left out on the bed when you were in the bath, guarding them.

You know you love your dogs when you unhesitatingly put on furry underwear.

A drive down memory lane

Last night, when the company transport van pulled up and the door opened to let us in, a solid wall of Deep Purple spilled out. Most of my fellow passengers were rather taken aback but I flashed an appreciative grin at the driver and he didn't make any attempt to turn down the volume.

A couple of nights ago, there weren't many people on the bus so when I was the last passenger left, the driver gave me a somewhat apologetic smile and cranked up the music.

He needn't have worried. Santana (the early years) came on, followed by Deep Purple, Ritchie Blackmore/Rainbow, The Eagles, Eric Clapton, Gary Moore.

He wasn't just driving me home, he was taking me back to my misspent 20s in a basement pub called The Cellar. I had just landed my first job after graduating and it was as a reporter covering the arts (simply because I had an English Literature degree) and nightlife (because nobody else wanted to do it) beats. I had an editor who considered sitting in the office a waste of time if you weren't filing anything, so he made me go sit in a pub instead. Like that was hard work.

I still have all that music stashed in a box in my mother's house somewhere. Only thing is, they're all in -- gasp! -- cassettes. Now to find them all in iTunes.

Crazy old world

Q: What sort of goverment expels aid workers who have just flown in when 100,000 of its people are feared have to died in a cyclone?

A: The sort of government that closes its embassy in Bangkok for a festival so more aid workers waiting there for entry visas will have to wait at least four more days.

Q: How many more cyclone victims will die in four more days if they don't get help soon?

A: ...

So the international community is leaning on China, Thailand -- countries with ties to Myanmar -- to get the junta to open up the country to aid workers. That's where I think Singapore should step in. As the Asean chair, it has been gentle with Myanmar during the crackdown on protesting monks. As a country, it has business ties to Myanmar; its hospitals has treated junta members; and it has very probably sold arms to Myanmar. We shouldn't be part of this shame.

'The Bitch Is Back'

The last time we went to a concert -- the Police reunion tour -- L complained that we spent $350 on tickets for seats that we hardly sat on. Let's just say that this time round at Elton John, we made full use of our seats.

Not to fault Sir Elton or anything. This is the third Elton John concert we've been to and he's, well, 'Still Standing'. (And that was the song that got the audience on their feet -- other than the one soul in the $500 seats up right in front who danced a lonely dance all by herself at the beginning of the concert).

Sir Elton opened with 'Funeral for a Friend' -- much to L's consternation. I had no problem with that, it never sounded like a requiem to me anyway. And then, the other requiem, 'Candle in the Wind' came later. At which point, I think we were all unconsciously holding our breath to see if he would do the Marilyn Monroe lyrics or the Princess Diana version. L, the rabid Elton fan, said later that he would have gone off Elton if he did the 'England's rose' version.

Also from the 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road' album, he did the title track and 'Benni and the jets' (which must've made our friend with that name also at the concert very happy, L leant over to whisper) so he had that album more than covered.

Nothing from 'The One' -- which probably was the first Elton John album I really got into (I can only console myself with memories of 'The One' concert which wsa the first time I saw Elton live). I don't know his early stuff, I'm an Elton John fan only by marriage. Nothing from 'The Lion King' -- that's a soundtrack, not a definitive hit, sniffed L. And noticeably, nothing from the last two albums 'Songs From the West Coast' and 'Peachtree Road' -- which yielded no hits whatsoever. Which is probably a sign of a waning star. And the reason why this tour is touted as the 'Rocketman -- the definitive hits' tour. Rocketman should be so lucky that a 30-year career has yielded enough definitive hits for a three-hour concert (he really earned his pay last night).

I thought it was going to be the usual white crowd and the usual middle-aged crowd and so was surprised to find two expat kids next to me that were probably around 12 or 13. They were kinda lost at the beginning with 'Madman Across the Water' and 'Levon' (to be honest, so was I) but perked up considerably as Sir Elton went through the years and leapt up to 'Crocodile Rock'.

Unlike the Police concert, I didn't see much recording -- until 'Sacrifice' came on and the whole stadium was lit with the glow of LCD screens of mobile recording devices.

Only two cigarette lighters came on at 'Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word'. Instead people were waving their mobiles, their cellphone display screens making little arcs of light as they did so. Either no one smokes any more or the era of waving cigarette lighters is well and truly over.

Playing footsie

The most powerful muscle in the world is a dog's chin. When a dog rests its chin against any part of you, you're stuck in that position till it decides to move and release you.

Hmmm...

I think I need to get to know a politician.

People become discriminatory, bigoted even, because they form ideas of what they don't know -- whether it's a different race, skin colour, religion, sexual preference. And education, exposure even, is the first step to curb discrimination because the more you get to know a person whom you at first think is different from you, the more you realise how similar you both are.

So maybe I'm distrustful of politicians because I don't know any.

I am nothing

We're no strangers to Milo the Jack Russell and her mummy -- they always stop to say hello when we see them on walks and Milo gets plenty of play time with Rupert.

Yesterday, I was alone, walking towards the train station when Milo and her mummy crossed my path. No hello, no nothing, no sign of recognition.

I am nobody without my dogs!

I am even lesser than chopped liver. Had I been chopped liver, Milo would have at least stopped for a sniff!

Fashion statement?

I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw this tshirt in the window of a store that's known for selling cheap ladies' clothing.

Where would a girl wear this to?

I can only think of nights at my uni's student union after the rugby team won a match.

Or a Red Hot Chilli Peppers concert. Even so, they don't seem to do that sock thing any more. The last time I went to a RHCP concert, they'd gone respectable and Anthony Kiedis even had a hair cut.

Overheard

Sometimes you don't mean to eavesdrop but some people do talk so loudly on their cellphones.

"If you commit suicide, the problem is this, it would leave me dead."

I would have thought the problem is that it would leave the person who committed suicide dead.

The guy on the phone was black, and speaking with an African accent. I've had Nigerian friends who would be spitting and snarling at each other till you think that it was a blood feud involving the virtue of their womenfolk when actually they were having a conversation about the weather. It's just the inflection of their speech that makes you think they're having a fight.

So I don't know if this African guy was joshing with whoever he was talking to or if he was having a serious existentialist problem.

Further adventures in the kitchen

Why is it when Jamie Oliver roasts peppers on the stove top gas ring it looks so cool but when I do it, it looks ugly, bumpy, pimply and the kitchen stinks of charred flesh?

It's my blog and I'll rant if I want to

So Singaporeans grumble about taxi drivers (and a whole lot of other things) all the time...

The cabbie waiting at the taxi rank at the shopping mall saw us coming out of the mall because he made eye contact with me. He watched as we made our way to the taxi stand, both burdened by lots of heavy grocery bags. He continued to watch dispassionately as we juggled the bags about so as to get a hand free to open the taxi door.

And he was driving a taxi with an auto door -- which meant that he could open the passenger door without getting his butt off his seat. He didn't say a word at all on the ride, no response to L giving him directions. We could have been driven by a robot. Although I think a robot would be a little more personable.

Maybe if he actually said something, I could have videoed it and uploaded it to YouTube.

Beer bread

Pix for the Catswhiskers who was curious. This is the easiest bread I've ever made because it is one of those no-knead recipes. But unlike the usual no-knead recipe, this one didn't take 24 hours to proof because there's a bottle of beer in it, maybe all that yeast in the beer sort of kickstarted the bread.

I put a bottle of Corona beer in it, I couldn't find Miller Lite or any light American beer at the supermarket and I think that hale and hearty local brews wouldn't suit the cheese in the bread. You can also add in bits of chives, ham or bacon. But I put cheese instead because I have a vegetarian coming for dinner tonight and one of the reasons why I made the bread (other than out of sheer curiosity when I came across the recipe in the Sunday paper last week -- I'd never heard of beer in bread!) was that we could have some with the lentil stew I plan to make.

Half of the cheese is grated and the other half cut into bite-sized cubes so you can actually bite into a piece of cheese as you eat the bread. The recipe also called for drizzling melted butter on top of the dough before putting it in the oven, and that has resulted in a golden brown crusty top.

It's more like a cake bread, like banana bread for instance, than an airy kneaded loaf. There's still nothing like thumping the hell outta your dough when you make bread, but this one was so quick and easy, it may just win me over to no-knead bread.

And that's not the beer talking.