The king of fragrance

This weekend, Malcolm came from the kitchen to find me in the living room and accused me of stinking up the bathroom and not doing anything about it (turning on the fan, lighting a candle, anything like that). I denied the allegation. He raised his eyebrows at me and we continued to watch the Jays game.

After another trip to the kitchen and back, Malcolm asked me again if I was sure I didn't forget about an odourous bathroom escapade and I again, denied being at fault. He narrowed his eyes at me, the doubt clear on his face.

After one more exit of the living room, I was ready for Malcolm to return and ask me again. He returned, but didn't ask me. This time I raised my eyebrows. He apologized.

"It was my durian drink."

A random Monday memory

Years and year ago, my dad went away somewhere and brought back a big notebook for me. It was covered in Looney Tunes characters on the outside, and the edges of the pages were gold. Dad told me that not only could I write in it like I was apt to do as a voracious reader and writer for my age, but I could also use the cartoons on the outside to trace and draw into my own artwork. What kid gets excited over a book with blank pages to write in? I did. 

Weirdly appreciated

I can be a little goofy sometimes. Sometimes my brain acts in really fast, random ways. I think this makes me a really good brainstormer, but I'll admit that sometimes the things it comes up with can be downright weird.

And yet.

It's me. That's just me and how I think and work. Sometimes these ideas will just tumble out of control and suddenly from just thinking something, I'm suddenly doing something and acting on my random ideas and being the type of person I am, I really like to see these things through right away and as fast as possible...I hate when I come up with an idea to surprise someone because I can't wait to do it. And unfortunately, I apparently like surprising people.

My brother went along with a surprise party for our parents where we hosted a dance, bought drinks and catered for 50 people with zero experience.

A large number of Malcolm's friends sent me, practically a stranger at the time, pictures of themselves wishing Malcolm a happy birthday because I didn't want him to feel homesick or lonely on his birthday.

My workplace let me build a fireplace display in the office for Christmas; photoshop, disseminate for signatures, and deliver ridiculous Valentine's Day cards; and run pot lucks and Oscar betting pools on the regular.

My parents let me travel on a whim, all the time, with people they'd barely heard of.

Malcolm lets me host gatherings at our place with little notice, but big guest lists and long itineraries.

For all of that (and likely a lot more I'm not thinking of), I just want to say "thanks." Thank you all you spectacularly supportive people for letting me be me and going along with my crazy ideas. For not telling me I'm crazy and that I should just get back to work. For not telling me my ideas are impossible or that it can't be done. For making me just as pleased to do these things as the person on the receiving ends might be.

I am weird and you're wonderful. You make my life better.

Cheese-string crisis averted

Part of my little guy's usual breakfast will include a cheese-string (lately, anyway). He likes cheese, it's easy for him to hold, and when he starts getting bored I start a little string-pull for him and he's happy to rip off the string of cheese to shove in his mouth which gets him to eat just a little more. 

The other day was not unlike any other. We got up, got changed and before I put on the coffee, I gave him his cheese-string to get him started on breakfast while I was busy. As was typical, he toddled off to wander about while I made coffee which took me all of 2 minutes. 

By the time I was done, he'd made his way back to the kitchen...empty-handed.

me: "Baby, baby where's your cheese-string?"

Baby: "Hah?"

me: "What did you do with your cheese-string?"

Baby: "Hah?"

me: "Show mommy where you put your cheese-string."

Baby: "Bup!" *puts arms up to be picked up*

me: *picks him up* "Okay, where's your cheese-string?"

Baby: *hugs me*

Great. 

I put him down and tried to retrace his steps from the last 2 minutes to see where this cheese-string had gone so I could re-claim it before it was forgotten and was left to rot in some random corner somewhere in the house.

I knew he'd come from his playroom so that's where I headed first. I checked the floor, I checked the chairs, I checked in his little pedal car. Nothing. I stood in the middle of the room to assess the situation.

If I were a toddler, where would I put my cheese-string?

Then I spotted it. 

Duh, obviously, mommy. What a thoughtful little monkey.
...

For those of you who don't know, this little dinosaur sings a song when you turn him on:
I'm a hungry dinosaur
Who likes to eat
So please feed me
a healthy treat!

I'm going to chalk it up to my little guy just following instructions.

The muffin (wo)man

In an attempt to be the wholesome, ideal mother save a couple of bucks every week, I've been trying to make use of my muffin tins by baking muffins once a week to serve as a quick grab item for breakfast. I've tried a couple of recipes so far and the best one to date was a banana chocolate chip muffin. Being banana, this recipe was great because it also allowed me to make use of all the overripe bananas I was prone to having at the end of the week.

So far, my plan was going well:
1. Muffins from home so I'm not buying muffins while at work.
2. Banana muffins mean I'm getting to use overripe bananas instead of tossing them out.
3. Chocolate chip banana muffins mean "yum, chocolate!"

However, this week, the batch didn't turn out so hot. I was trying to convey that the muffins weren't "throw immediately into the garbage" no good, but they just weren't tasty. Some couldn't understand how they could be bad when there was chocolate involved, some just thought I was being modest. But the conversation I had with Malcolm last night perfectly relayed why they weren't so hot.

Me: Sorry the muffins this week weren't so great.
Malc: Oh, honey, don't be hard on yourself, they're good!
Me: No they're not, you can barely taste the banana.
Malc: These are banana muffins?!

See? Chocolate chip banana muffin fail. Accidental chocolate chip only muffin win.

After the show it's the after party

And usually the after party (of the party, that is...I'm not exactly putting on any [free] shows at my house) involves a mountain of dishes, a buffet of leftovers, further party-activity coordination, table and floor clean-up, simultaneous guest entertainment, not to mention baby-watching. Is it worth all the trouble, just to have a few hours of socializing with friends?

Always.

Besides, many hands make light work and none of the guests could be coerced to sit down and enjoy themselves. Dishes were washed, leftovers were packed, tables and floors cleaned and swept, and the baby not just watched, but bathed! With all of that so quickly out of the way, it was no time before we jammed a candle into a box of doughnuts and called it a cake for the birthday guest amongst us (despite the actual cake sitting a little further away on the table).

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I had a good time with good friends and family last night. That's all.

Like Chandler's gum

One of the most ridiculously coldest days out ever (-42°C) and I was struck with a moment.  Freezing cold as it was outside, the sun was streaming in the windows, warming all of the rooms it touched. I was in the kitchen with the sunshine pouring in through the glass patio doors. A pot of congee was cooking on the stove, steaming up the tops of the windows. Ed Sheeran softly played from the radio and the house was quiet as Malcolm was upstairs putting the baby down for a nap. The dishes were done and all plans for the day had been cancelled due to the extreme cold outside, and yet there I was having a perfectly warm and cozy moment inside. It was good.
...

This was what was playing during my moment:

Father's Day

On Father's Day - the day that was supposed to all about him - my dad ran out and chased down the neighbourhood ice cream truck to buy a twist cone for pregnant me. I didn't even ask him to. :)  That's why we have a day for dads.

Afternoon laugh

I forgot that I had Malcolm's wallet in my purse last night, so today, he had to go without.  When he called me to let me know that he'd gotten through the day safe and sound without it, we had the following conversation:

him: "Oh, and honey, if you find any phone numbers in my wallet, I just want to let you know that they're not mine."

me: "Well, I figured that you wouldn't have to have copies of your own number in your wallet."

him: "Hahaha. Yes, of course.  But if you find any other numbers in there, they're not mine either. They're, uh, client phone numbers."

me:  "Ah, and the ones written in lipstick are just the ones that you wrote down after your pen ran out?"

him: "Of course! See, you know me so well!"

...

Unbeknownst to me, my coworkers were able to hear most of that conversation (my ears are clogged today) and had a good laugh too.

What did the fox...wait, fox?!

Slacking in any area is getting blamed on baby brain. :)  Oh yes, we're having a baby!

As with other big events in my life, I've started yet another journal just for this one.  I'll probably share more of those posts later, but there was one thing that took place last night that I just can't skip.

With being pregnant, I've been having amazingly lucid dreams. So lucid, that I'll wake up in the morning (with some crazy difficulty every time) and wonder...was that real? From things like attending SilentR's wedding, to cooking cocaine in an RV à la Breaking Bad, they're pretty hilarious, but surprisingly detailed and convincing.    However, none are probably as convincing as Malcolm's dream was to him last night.  He told it well in his own words, so I won't ruin it...

The big day

It really was the happiest day of my life.  While there were more tears shed that day than any other, they were tears of joy and happiness.  It went by so fast as I was told it would.  It felt like it was happening to me, rather than as as planned--not to say that it ran wildly out of control--it definitely didn't.  I don't even have any words. Perhaps I'll just capture pieces at a time.
...

Find the pieces under the wedding label.

Music to my ears

Last night I was washing dishes and cooking - multitasking, as usual.  Macklemore was playing to keep me company.  Coming up to the chorus, a familiar voice joined in softly next to my ear as warm arms slid around my waist. 

And I can't change

even if I tried

even it I wanted to

My love my love my love

You keep me warm

you keep me warm

He hadn't sung to me in so long.  It threw me back to one of our first nights in together.  We lay on the couch, my head tucked into his neck and his arms around me; his fingers trailing lazy lines up and down my back.

The lights were turned down low and the music was up loud, but not too loud that I couldn't hear him singing along with the song.  The words were sung quietly to my ear while the tones hummed straight from his chest into mine. 

I fell for him in that moment, years ago, and I fell a little more in that moment last night too.

...

As a side note.  I can't get enough of Macklemore.  Each of his songs is a story and I love stories.  Some are serious and some are just for fun, but in the end, they're all good stories.

Did have a cow

In January of last year (2013) I attended a conference and one of the giveaways was a little plastic piggy bank. Except it wasn't actually a piggy bank, it was a cow bank.  Not really one to collect all my change, I repurposed the cow for something else.  I decided it was going to be my Cow of Awesome.

My what?

My Cow of Awesome.

I decided that every time something awesome happened, I'd jot it down on a piece of paper and keep it in the cow.  Then, at the end of the year (or, as it happened, at the beginning of this year), I'd open up the cow and see what awesomeness had taken place over the year.  Today was the opening day.

Awesomeness spilled out all over the table.  One by one, I reminisced over the year as Malcolm stayed close by to share in the memories.  There were a lot of wedding ones, but there were a lot of other randoms too.  Many memories were made with others, though Malcolm and I also got to share a number between the two of us.

I've since relocated the awesomeness to a nondescript envelope for the time being, until I can figure out the best way I can store them for the future trips down memory lane.  In the meantime, I needed the Cow back to start this year's stock of awesomeness. :)

Look no farther

Malcolm did some research and took me out to a surprise venue for a romantic honeymoon dinner in Bangkok.  When we arrived at the destination, I learned that he'd chose SMITH restaurant on Soi 49, Sukhumvit.

   "I read that their steak tartare is really good so you  might want to try that," Malcolm told me. I was SO game.

The inside of the restaurant matched the metallic outside.  The exterior was a nondescript building of corrugated metal.  The interior had metal seating everywhere, wrought iron details, and a section with meath -hooks hanging from the ceiling.  Funky photo-portraits decorated one of the few walls of exposed brick.  The lights were low to set the atmosphere while the in-house DJ spun old-school R&B; forgotten singles by TLC and All Saints threw us into a nostalgic mood.

Everything on the menu looked delicious and we decided to order accordingly.  Malcolm let me place my order first: I asked for the fresh oysters (3) and the steak tartare (of course!) to start, the pasta special as my main, and a side order of brussel sprouts.

Apparently the server wasn't accustomed to inquisitive Canadian appetites because she took that to be our entire order and left. Malcolm and I caught each other's eye and laughed before beckoning her back to take Malcolm's order of mussels and sea bass.  Turns out she had to return a final time because they'd run out of mussels and we had to fill that (obviously) gaping void in our giant order to sate our appetites.

The food came and we tucked in.  We were not disappointed.  I was pleased to try caviar with my oysters and was delighted when my steak tartare was arranged as a sunrise (or sunset) on my plate.  Malcolm's salad was the best he'd had - "I could eat this everyday!" - and our mains were delicious.  Admittedly, I think I enjoyed Malcolm's sea bass with buttery foam a little more than my tortellini.

As we dined, Malcolm shared another tidbit with me.

   "Apparently the chef and owner of this restaurant is the Iron Chef of Thailand."
   "That's awesome! What else did you read from the reviews."
   "That was it."
   "There were no more?"
   "No; after reading that they served good steak tartare and that it was by Iron Chef Thailand, I knew you'd like it for sure, so I stopped reading."
   "Fair enough."

He knows me so well.  Perhaps the way to my heart is also through my stomach.

We ended our perfect evening by sharing a banana split (the bananas were fired like the tops of crème brulée!) that was delectable and then left for home and a massage - extremely satisfied but not too full.  It was perfect honeymoon dining with my husband (husband!).

What'cha doin'?

Hi.

We're alive.  :)

We made it through a lot and I HAVE been writing about it, but in the good old fashioned way with pen and paper (my pen actually died before we even left Malaysia).  Here's what we've made it through so far:

• we got married (amazing wedding, amazing party, many happy tears)
• we flew to Malaysia
• I averted a pickpocket attempt on Malcolm in the airport (by kicking someone, no less)
• we took the Canadian family around KL to see things and stuff them full of food
• we had another wedding tea ceremony (amazing family, more happy tears)
• we had another wedding reception (oh, the FOOD!)
• we flew to Bangkok
• I got over food poisoning from the airplane food on that first glorious night
• boys went fishing, girls went shopping (though I really had to concentrate to get my poisoned shit together for two days following)
• we ate FOOD
• honeymooned in Krabi - I didn't want to leave
• returned to Bangkok
• I avoided another pickpocket attempt (this time a motorbike purse-snatcher) by having my wits about me...though I wish I'd managed to kick another someone else in this instance
• we got massages
• I caught a cold that I booted after a glorious day of sleep mixed with cable TV
• we bought stuff
• we ate stuff
• we ate more stuff
• we're going to eat more stuff

Of course there are more details, but those will come later. I think I need to go sit by the pool for a bit. :)

The honeymoon diet.

Step 1: eat bad airplane food.
Step 2: throw up all the food you've eaten in the past 24 hours.
Step 3: expel any remaining food, liquids and nutrients anyway your body allows.

I don't have a scale, but I'm guessing you'll drop at lest 4 to 5 pounds via this method.  Also throw in some non-eating days due to food grossing you out while at the same time going on full day shopping excursions because you're too stubborn to ruin the trip for anyone else and that'll probably help a bit too.

Well, I WAS a little worried about the bikini bod, but this was a little surprise jump-start to getting back on track...
...

   "Oh my god I threw up so hard I gave myself an ab cramp!"

1. Abs can cramp individually?
2.  I have abs?!

What's in a name - part 2

On the Saturday before our Malaysian wedding reception, all of Malcolm's aunts and uncles poured into the house to greet us, to eat, and to start the celebrations early.  With Malcolm's mom being the eldest of eight siblings, and with many children and grandchildren running around already, there were a LOT of new faces to meet.

As they all arrived in a steady stream of bodies, I passed some helpful advice to Brodder that I'd learned myself the previous two times this had happened to me.  It was a great survival tip and he appreciated it.  Later, Like-a-boss-Lee asked Brodder if the evening had been overwhelming with all of that new family.  He gave away the secret tip:

   "Actually, once melody told me not to worry about the names and just to call everyone 'Auntie' or 'Uncle,' it was okay."

Herding cats

On the way to the Batu caves, we managed to arrive just 5 minutes before the next train to our destination was about to depart.  Buying our tickets, we scurried over to the KTM entrance; Brodder took the lead while I brought up the rear to make sure we didn't lose mom or dad.  We flew through the turnstiles (kind of - the ticking system was new to mom and dad) and Brodder led the way down to our platform.

   "Platform 3!" he yelled over his shoulder.
   "Platform 3!" I confirmed from the giant destination marquees set at the head of the station stairs.  Taking the stairs at a run, blindly trusting us, mom called back up to us,
   "Platform 3, how do you know?"

Giant marquees.

When we reached the platform, we were asked again,

   "Are you sure this is the right platform?"

Signs everywhere: "to Batu Caves."

Sigh.
...

Later that day, mom wanted to scoot up some steps to follow signs to the nearby hotel in hopes to score a tourist map.  She'd originally asked Brodder, me and dad to wait for her at the bottom of the stairs, but after a moment, Ken and I considered the bustle of the busy train station and decided otherwise.

   "Dad, change of plans: follow mom up the stairs."

Dad obviously didn't hear me, so I repeated myself.

   "Dad! Follow mom up the stairs."

He still didn't respond, so Brodder tried.

   "Dad! Go up the stairs - follow mom!"

Still nothing.

   "Dad!  Go up the stairs!"

Finally, dad turned around to face us.

   "Hey guys, I think we should follow mom up the stairs."

Yes.

Making a point

I somewhat recall waving a marshmallow skewer around that night, pointing the business end of it at TCHC, demanding him to make up his mind (about a girlfriend of mine) and to get his shit together about the other aspects of his life.

I was given more information than I had bargained for.  And an onion.  I was also given an onion. 

What we did wrong

   "We spent all of that time worrying about what to do if BGoa showed up when we should have been working about Number1."

   "You know how at family events, everyone has 'that uncle?'" Well, Number1 is ours."
...

This Number1 managed to have a few too many and then proceeded to do things to peeve other family members during the reception.  He aggrandized himself to my in-laws, and then monopolized my photographer for his own, choice family photos--favourites only (funny, I wasn't in those ones...), only to then give the photographer a lecture about how he didn't know how to be a photographer, how he charged too much, and how Number1 could do a much better job himself.

To say the least, my photographer became one of those on the list that Number1 peeved that night.  In a moment of heated venting of words, I waved Brodder over to the head table for damage control.

   "DO something with him!" I hissed a whisper in Brodder's ear, motioning to Number1.  And I guess he did, because I didn't hear about Number1 anymore that night.

I told this story two months later to my co-worker who had his wedding just two weeks after mine; we were laughing, sharing the unplanned-event notes from our wedding.

   "So what happened to your uncle?"
   "I don't know, but I know that my brother took care of it."
   "Have you seen your uncle since your wedding?"
   "Actually, no, I haven't."
   "Maybe your brother 'took care' of it alright..."
   "Maybe I should ask him what happened..."
   "Maybe you should."
...

In case you're curious, Number1 appeared at Christmas dinner. :)