…and here I am trying to capture life like butterflies)
I landed on Bloc Party’s Price of Gas by chance today. How
ironic. I filled up Ummi’s tank last night and the new price just blew me away. I
wonder how the poor and impoverished will cope. These are hard times.
Music for today would be ‘Hopelist’ by What Made Milwaukee
Famous, for which I owe dear Maddie who inadvertently introduced me to them. This
song sounds like Elliot Smith and Earlimart, all wrapped into one Simon and
Garfunkel wrapper.
For the school holidays, I took my siblings out for a trip
to Pusat Sains Negara as a treat. I think it was the only time when asking my
parents for permission to go out wasn’t a problem. You can’t go wrong with
Pusat Sains Negara. Very educational, a good learning experience. “Yes” came
the answer with no hesitation.
I don’t know what I was thinking. To say that Science has never
exactly been my strong subject would be a huge understatement. I showed my
ineptness for the field quite early on, preferring to watch ‘Art Attack’ over ‘Bill
Nye The Science Guy’ as a kid, and consistently getting B’s for Science in
UPSR and PMR. Having not learned my lesson, I took Sub-Science for SPM and
consequently landed more B’s for both Chemistry and Physics. Proof much? Having
said that, the one subject I do miss is Accounts. All those numbers and calculations
were joy. Even Add Maths was a lesser pain than Science.
I think I was subconsciously hoping for some sort of
miraculous awakening of my scientific senses, which must have been lying
dormant for a good two decades of my life. Instead, that trip to the Centre pretty
much sealed the deal for me. It’s confirmed – I’ve always been and will forever
be as scientifically-challenged as the day I was born. It was DULL. I walked around
completely uninterested, even as I poked things about, observing the reactions.
I tried reading the scientific facts on display, but that made things worse. By
the end of two hours, I was positively nodding off. Luqman seemed to be the
only one enjoying himself. The place was giving me a headache, and the more I
walked, the more stupid and ignorant I felt. In the end, so bored stiff was I that I let my siblings wander off while I chose a bench and whipped out Murakami.
I couldn’t go on any further. Thus concludes an unsuccessful attempt to jolt
the hidden Marie Curie in me. Needless to say, that excursion has now come to
an unceremonious and ultimately dead end.
—————
I’ve taken to wearing the baju kurung every time I go out these
days. It’s the only thing that manages to hide my expanding frame effectively.
At the same time I don’t need to worry whether it’s too tight or too short or
transparent or showing off anything that shouldn’t be showing. It’s funny how ‘baju
kurung’ loosely translates to ‘confined dress’, when it’s one of the things
that make me completely confident and comfortable whenever I’m out of the
house. It’s also the perfect backup when you can’t find a decent outfit for a
majlis. When all else fails, go for the baju kurung. Unfortunately though, I’ve
also taken a great liking to Asadi slippers. Like, seriously. They’re so comfortable
it’s ridiculous. And as much as I’m aware that I’m committing a grave fashion
faux paux by traipsing around in a baju kurung-selipar Asadi combo…I just really
can’t care less. It’s quite amusing, actually. I went to OU yesterday for some
errands in that attire, and I felt like laughing the whole time.
—————
So. Ummi’s flown off for her medical exhibition cum seminar
and I’m stuck home playing substitute Mum. I don’t mind cooking for my
siblings, it’s no big deal. When my parents left for Indonesia a few weeks ago,
running the house was surprisingly easy. I could take liberties with dinner
because my siblings had no choice. It was either my ghastly experiments on the
stove for them, or nothing at all. It’s different this time though, because
Abah’s around. Which means the next few days is going to take some creativity,
a brave front to stand the criticisms and a lot of prayers. No funny experiments
either, it has to be straight up Malay dishes all the way. The prospect of Abah
coming home from work to chow on my feeble attempts to get everything right is
terrifying.
Update: Lunch didn’t go down too well. Your nasi goreng
looks like dodol, said the family head. So before I started on dinner I made a fervent prayer to God that
whatever happened, let him be able to swallow my food without choking. I
made your standard chicken curry, and since he came home late last night, I stayed up and accompanied
him while he ate. Ummi does it all the time. After a nail-biting minute of
watching him gingerly chew from the corner of my eye, he looked up.
“Did you make this?”
“Yes” I answered in a small voice. Siapa lagi? I braced
myself for the worst.
“Hmm. Tastes just like your mum’s.”
I was screaming Alhamdulillah inwardly and quietly jumping
for joy until he finished eating. He actually took seconds. Ummi is an
exceptional cook in our extended family, so that was no small compliment for me.
Whether it’s a stroke of beginner’s luck or not, I grinned my way to bed.
Alhamdulillah, a million times over.
Now then, for tonight. Nak masak apa ek?
Enough said here.
