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Friday, July 31, 2009

Ungu

Thanks so much Wati.

I have this knot inside and I am clueless to how I can undo it. It forms a fist, grappling so tightly onto the system. Sometimes it feels like it takes the life out of me, stealing a few breaths at a time, to a point I turn ungu. Or maybe it's just me who forgets to breathe. But the thing is I do not breathe, I whiz.

Thanks so much Nini.

A Better Pan

Thanks so much Dee!

When a fellow baker queried where I bought my baking stuff, from the oven right up to baking pans I answered indifferently with "everywhere". The truth is most of my baking stuff, especially pans are hand me downs from my mother, ones she hardly baked any cakes in but more of bengkangs and puluts or any castardy works of art. There were the unforgettable lengat pisangs, the rich unforgiving badak berendams, the pulut which put seri onto our faces, the sunny binka ubi, the jiggly kueh kasuie and the simple agar2 merah and hijau. What seemed uncomplicated those days have become an unnerving feat to try these days or in my case it is purely newfangled laziness.

Sometimes guilt strikes me each time I pour my modern cake batter into my mother's old shallow pans to bake my cakes in. I feel bad for not continuing the art of concocting those traditional kuehs I so love. It would be more befitting to use the pans as how they had served my mother serving us with all those mouth watering desserts. It became an acquired taste we were fortunate to get acquainted with but a skill we were unfortunate to not be good at. I was never interested to learn how to cook and bake then but now that I am, my mother seems to have forgotten the recipes and even the how tos.

While this learning desire is frothing and foaming I better spring into action and dip my interest at the right place for a proper training, and I think I have just found the suitable place for it.

Maybe just maybe in time to come you will spot me berendam like a badak under that sunny binka ubi, jiggling agar2 away with all the seri on my muka. I know what my husband would say though "...part badak tu dah betui dah!" sheeeeeesh.


Thanks so much Joey!

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

It's The Climb

My daughter fighting back her fear of heights on her way up to take a plunge on the flying fox. "Gotta be strong, keep pushing on"

When I picked up my guitar one late evening to pluck " You're My Everything" fulfilling the request of my son, he jigged yaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!. It's his favourite song apart from the other oldie he loves. I am not much of a musician in the house, almost tone deaf, note blind, finger stiff and movement uncoordinated. But I am still able to strum and pluck several easy songs in tune, enough to keep the kids and myself entertained. But after many a time lagu yang sama dimainkan berulang-ulang kali, my son squeezed his thought with "...Ma, boleh tak mainkan lagu The climb tu macam Miley Cyrus, dia pun boleh main gitar." Both of my kids memorize the song not just by heart but also by every action of Miley! Their eagerness was such a mismatch to my pensive mood that day. I was feeling melancholic after a car accident a day before which left me terribly shaken. So shaken that streams of tears clouded my vision on my way to deliver cakes to Wati(sorry Wati if I appeared a little bit red faced and all teary that evening) right after helping two badly injured motorcyclists who had hit me from the back. My daughter and I escaped unhurt alhamdulillah, but some parts of the car were wrecked as severe as the self esteem of the driver.

It was frightening to think a minor accident of such resulted in casualties of a broken shoulder, torn scalp, bruises and wounds which perhaps penetrated deeper than the naked eye could see. I remembered right after the accident I ran towards the men apologizing profusely even though I wasn't the one who initiated it. Like them I believe, I too was a victim of the circumstances. After the hospital and the police station, we never saw the men again, they failed to file for a report for fear of being summoned due to their inability to produce all the necessary documents. But I will always remember their faces, not because of their refusal to be responsible for the damages done onto my car, but for the look that was cast on their faces whilst waiting to be transported to the hospital. The look of penance, contrition, self-reproach and syukur all rolled and compressed into one...it was as if I saw my own reflection.

It's time to pick up that old guitar of mine and lip sync to the song pretending I could play as like of Miley. Jadilaaaaaaaaaa.


She made it!

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Windmill Of My Mind

Thanks Sis Linda.

It's been awhile now. I seem to be stranded in my thoughts, sometimes unable to leave or jump onto another wagon of a different idea. When I get sucked into this realm, I would be in too deep to clamber my way up to resurface. I do scuffle but in an upward direction which only allows me to descend all over again. Just like the windmill, I am driven by the force of energy, propelling constantly but remaining affixed to the ground, never really taking off. The energy I create is self sufficient. I have become complacent. I think it's time I make waves instead of just ripples.


This design is inspired by the picture my Sis passed to me torn from the pages of a magazine. I would like to give credit to the original designer of this cake but unable to due to the lack of information. But if this happens to look like yours, do drop me a line.

The person who ordered this cake owns a wonderful gift shop, do give her a visit here.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Through The Years

Thanks Cik Pridah!



It was 1988, the year of bushy hairdo, colourful headguards and bright mismatched earrings, when this song dominated the air waves. It was the most requested song for dedications and the most used to accompany stories and letters read by this female deejay, whose name escapes me. Together we sat, my sister and I on mak's brown velvety cushion, sinking our broad heavy tush in them whilst listening intently to all the letters read by the deejay. The radio which was a big silver coloured one was bought by my father at one of the acara lelong dekat rumah. If memory doesn't fail me it cost him 63rgt. We never had our own pocket money to spend on cassettes during those time and so the radio was our only source for music. Due to it's mammoth size the radio could only fit the downstairs round table to which it remained till the end of its days. Around it we spent half of our adolescent years listening and humming to songs which became close to our hearts. There were countless of other songs but "through the years" somehow became the windmill in my mind, circling "...in a spiral like a wheel within a wheel, never ending or beginning." -Sting. Remembering words to songs was never my affinity. I just made up the words as they went along to the disapproval of my sister who was feverish with her righteousness to singing correctly every time ha ha ha.

AS the song was gradually embedded in my mind over the constant air play, I realized I didn't have anyone who I could dedicate this song to. It would have been apt to dedicate this song to a boy whom I adored but I was from an all girls school you see. The sight of boys was only visible when the opposite school of Sekolah Menengah Jenis Cina Sam Tet adjourned for the day. Since I had wished to dedicate the song to someone special, I begun waiting there forth whilst clasping the song in one hand and placing the other on my forehead in search for the other.

And now after so many years I did find "The One" to not only sing this song to, but to profess my love via the meaningful lyrics. But....."The One" I found is absolutely allergic to anything Kenny Rogers even his out of this world muffins at the Kenny Rogers Roasters wakakakakaka. Do I still sing it to him anyway? You betcha! with allergic reactions and all!

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Party Gnome



I was once a gnome, a uniformed one. I wore a brown pinafore with a yellow tie, a brown belt and a matching wolf cap. I worked with other gnomes in my brownie pack to do our best and to serve the ones in need. And being a gnome, helping others was an inborn trait. Many books revealed that a gnome is 7 times stronger than a man, runs thrice as fast and possesses the sight of a hawk. These abilities help the Gnome to accomplish many tasks at once which at most times are used to assist others.


I met a real life gnome the other day, a party gnome. She takes her job with such pride making sure parties she helps to organize runs without a glitch. She designs party packs, puts up decorations, serves matching finger food and helps transform an ordinary venue into a magical one. This gnome supersedes the gnome I was simply because she creates beautiful moments which last a lifetime in the crafty photo albums which she designs. A party gnome is essential nowadays as she doesn't only expedite the job for you but most importantly she adds up so much joy to the ambiance around.


Thanks Suz for the order!

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

A Streetcar Named Desire


"Mi, lower your hands down, I think he could see it"

Slowly, my better half put his hands on his lap and tried not to make visible the leaflet he was holding. We were in the other car, about to head out to see the salesperson for this new car we were considering of purchasing. We could sense our Bumble Bee somehow knew what was happening, he was unmistakenly eaves dropping. It wasn't easy to do what we just did. Our yellow car has served us incredibly well and letting go of something which has been so dear tears us into pieces.

"Ma, please don't sell Juara Ma, sian dia." cried my daughter whilst my son was going agog over this new car at the showroom. I took a look at her and convinced her that we were just looking. Looking for something more reliable not at all trying to satisfy our non existent fastidious taste. We had Bumble Bee all washed up and cleaned that day before we took him in. The salesperson wished to see him first before we traded him in. Our yellow car has never looked or smelled better that day, he was unusually his serene self. The only distraught picture was of my daughter, wailing and dramatizing the whole event. Nothing was finalized or decided yet but my daughter was in her sloughs of despair, a total opposite of her smiling brother who has planted himself in the new car and growing roots in an instance.

It was easy to fall in love with the new car. Most importantly, the price was within our range. The size was ample for 7 seated adults, the design suited us and again the price was such a steal. The moment of truth arrived when it was our turn to test drive the car. Everything purred smoothly, we could hardly feel the running engine. But somehow something was amiss. The seats didn't seat us comfortably, the doors didn't close snugly. The wall was too high, the interior was too rough, the gear wasn't right, the clutch was too far out, the wheels were too small. We were suddenly clouded with uncertainties, suspicions which nagged at us blithely.

I hopped down and moved about twenty steps towards our old car. My husband was still contemplating, my daughter whining, my son grinning. The salesperson approached me to look again at the car. He had this "why in the world did you buy this car in the first place. It looks horrible..." expression and it was then I asked him to try and test drive the Juara himself. I opened the door and closed it back again to prove how sturdy the motion was. I pointed out the generous space at the back where my kids were doing some colouring then, I allowed him to listen to the sound of the good engine and before I knew it I was actually trying to sell him the Juara instead of him selling me the new car.

Our desire to have a new car was short lived. We realized it wasn't yet necessary for us to do so. "...This car is for keeps." I said affirmatively to my husband. And upon hearing that an expression of joyous relief suddenly appeared on the face of my daughter diikuti dengan teriak dan tangis daripada Adnin..."Anin suker keter yang ituuuuuuuuuu"

And all of us brought Bumble Bee back, transformed, happily ever after.

Thanks so much Zaitul!

Friday, July 10, 2009

Speechless

When cakes are baked for birthdays or made for baby showers or decorated whole heartedly as the grand finale for the blessed couple, for the baker, the sweetness stays ,but only for a little while. The moment the cakes are relinquished to the rightful owners, the baker often pauses to savour the last glimpse before she walks away seemingly unscathed. She is often seen at the beginning of a party but seldom, almost never invited to stay. It's just the way it is here, everything goes by formal invitations, that's how modern folks operate.


But there was one night, a night when the sweetness lingered a little bit longer, the baker delivered a surprise birthday cupcakes to someone who just moved to Putrajaya from a small town in Perlis. There was nothing extraordinary about the delivery, the sky looked the same, the moon played truant, the stars twinkled bright as usual but somehow the baker felt a quiet lift of her heart. The recipient, who is also the brother of another blogger cum good friend of the baker, received our presence with such grace and warmth. For someone who was speechless initially, he suddenly was full of words. He squeezed more than just words of gratitude to us, he invited us to stay, not once but countless times. His nods of appreciation and sincere invitation to his house touched our hearts and to see his eyes gleaming far brighter than the entire constellation that night, in turn, left us speechless.

Thanks so much Dee for the order.


Thanks Amy and sis!

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

While I Was Driving...


Thanks so much Dee, Ramnah, Rayhan, and Rafidah.

I no more drive the Bumble Bee. I now manoeuvre a much smaller car... a sporty Lotus to my eyes and maybeeeee a kumbang ijo to some. But no matter how anyone sees it, that mean machine has empowered me to treat the highways and the freeways like autobahns much to a very detested other half. After driving Juwara for quite sometime or the van sekolah as my niece calls it, I love being behind the wheels of this other smaller car. It takes the bend smoothly, negotiates the sharp corners beautifully but most interestingly screeches when I want it to screech.

This is just going to be a short entry folks as I am just reciprocating to my student's entry posted on her cute blog. You see, I love getting in the hair of all my students, not just hair, in every tiny pore of their entire beings. So just now, as I was driving around the vicinity of the University whilst feeling bored and upset about the 'surprise" which didn't take off earlier, I witnessed an interesting episode by the roadside. It was an episode plucked from a typical romantic movie scene, whereby the heroine gets swept off her feet by the person she adores so much. A bouquet of flowers was seen in between them and the girl reacted by pulling away, embarrassed but happy. As she was engulfed with a gamut of emotions, her smile was broken by these honks from a Lotus car, and in the car waved an old lady cheering and waving frantically away expressing her happiness for the girl before the old lady screeched away into the oblivion. During that split second moment all the words the girl could gasp for were "...tapi kenapa mesti disaksikan oleh Teacher Wiz?"

wakakakaka....sorry Azie, must have been your luckiest day.Muahs!

Friday, July 3, 2009

Sit Barbie Sit, Good Doll.

You know Barbie, the lanky pretty lass from the village of Mattel? I had a photo shoot with her the other day , she was parading the latest Wizwear Summer Collection. She was indeed as beautiful as how little girls have described her, perfection personified. And with the Wizwear Summer Collection she looked even more stunning. The other cast which included Dovelina the dove, Bearella the bear, Flutter the butterfly and Anin the backdrop kain holder were all set in their positions waiting patiently for the star to take her place. And the moment she walked in everyone was star struck admiring her beauty. But there's something about Barbie which everyone should know... Barbie is not much of a sitting down person, she is a standing up girl. She prefers to be on her feet as she claimed she posed best in that position.

Her refusal to sit down complicated the photo shoot that day. Dovelina the dove became edgy and wanted to fly away, Bearella the bear turned grumpy and demanded a bigger chair, Flutter the butterfly felt weary and wanted to take flight elsewhere and Anin the kain backdrop holder got tired and asked to be excused to watch TV. However, Barbie didn't get to stay upright for long this time, she was reprimanded to take her seat near the other cast, and pose as how she was instructed! She complied but only appeared indifferently to be seated at the edge of the studio garden. She seemed to be falling off every time she pulled the sitting position, her legs were stiff, her joints were unfriendly. But in the end it all came together right before Dovelina the dove dashed for her favourite seed, Bearella the bear jumped for her favourite porridge, Flutter the butterfly whooshed for her favourite flower and Anin the backdrop kain holder ran for his favourite TV show.



With lots of royal icing Barbie was finally pinned down for the pin up. Sit Barbie sit, good doll! For wiz the designer, the photographer, the studio director and the baker, it's all in a day's work. Phew!


Barbie was supposed to sit above a 5 tier tray of cupcakes but only three could be seen here.

Thanks Lisa for the order!