Flying off at three in the morning is something new as we normally do more sane departures for our other escapades. Like a zombie, we boarded to a half full flight and a couple of screaming toddlers.
I guess getting four hours of sleep is sufficient. In transit at Abu Dhabi now before the real holiday kicks in!
We have a lovely but skinny Frangipani tree at our back garden. One day the girls declared, “We wanna climb a tree!” And so the hubby indulged them as I watch their monkey acts from inside the living room.
Climb a tree? Hah! How sad my girls don’t know what climbing a real tree is all about as their antics brought back memories of me and my tree.
I grew up in a big house with an equally big garden. And there were trees, lots of trees. Thirty six of them. Sometimes, somethings in life you remember forever and this is one of them.
I remember going through a phase and would be counting every single tree in the compound, playing authority with a clipboard and going around the compound doing a census on trees. I don’t know why I did that but I was obsessed with it, doing it every evening. And of course, the result showed 36 matured trees. My mother loved her garden, full of flowers, plants and trees.
And I loved my tree. My tree was special; it was a matured mango tree and had sturdy branches snaking out as if it was creating a nest with spread out fingers. I would climb my tree every afternoon and sit there to daydream. The branches were so thick that I could lie down anywhere I fancy and stare at the leaves or beyond. One day while staring, I discovered caterpillars! Here, there, everywhere. Eeuuww. I stopped hanging out on my tree after that.
But the fact remains, today’s children hardly has the opportunity to experience what we experienced. Climbing trees and catching little fishes from the drain (as what the hubbby used to do) are deemed activities of the dinosaur era, for people like myself and the hubby. We may have one tree for the girls to attempt now but sadly our drains are all covered up. Development and time plus technology has rendered many classics to be obsolete today.
This is about official pet number one, Rooney. We think he likes the color orange or rather, he only sees the color orange.
Why I say this because the toys that we get him can range from many colors but the orange colored ones last the longest playtime. A replacement frisbee for the orange one—in the same shape and size but in green—did not even warrant a day’s play. A blue & white bone hardly gnawed to the core while anything orange lasts so long!
When we discovered his preference for the color and not the object, both M1 and M2 would be mindful to select an orange colored toy for him whenever we visit the pet shop.
His recent orange & yellow chicken was chewed till the guts came out. Then the cat, which was a darker shade of orange, lasted less than the chicken. I surgically gave the cat another live but since then, with its orange shade turning brownish, the reincarnated cat has been neglected.
Currently, he’s just all over his basketball. At the right bright shade of orange, we all agreed that he only sees the color orange.
Many years ago, when both M1 and M2 were old enough to be left with Grandma overlooking them, I thought I could finally have an escapade and go away for a holiday with just the hubby. There was excitement as I thought, finally, they are independent enough and easy for Grandma to take care and we can have some time for ourselves. Then worried thoughts set in. Would they be fine? Would they miss us? Are we doing the right thing?
The six days plan to Hong Kong was not too extravagant as it coincided with their school term break. We were to take a holiday after attending a work-related conference/exhibition held there. The temptation was just too irresistible and thinking of the freedom from having to worry about their welfare plus timing it with the school holidays, I thought it was perfect and would not be too troublesome for my mother as well.
So off to Hong Kong we went!
However, by the fourth day of our trip, we had separation anxiety! We both started to miss them terribly! How could this be? It was the first time both of us were away from them and the separation anxiety for us was too much, it was so nauseating; we couldn’t wait for the remaining days to go by quickly. All that great holiday plans to have a good time, gone in a blink of an eye.
We came back bearing gifts for them out of guilt and you could sense our relief when we saw them again.
Their sentiments over the separation?
Nothing amiss as both were having a ball bonding with Grandma, who indulged them in so many ways that they hardly had time to miss us. Freedom backfired on us as separation anxiety got the better of us instead of them!
Typically after completing an exam, I remember attempting to look around, trying to peek over a friend’s shoulder or just walking out of the classroom.
Nowadays, what do the children do, especially before handing the paper over to the teacher? M1 told me she’d pretend to be occupied by counting how many people are sleeping, rechecking her answers or doing some doodles; basically pretending to be busy.
M2 on the other hand, would just doodle and can’t be bothered with the pretense. Recently, she showed me what she did after an exam.
Wow… My drawing skills pale in comparison sometimes.
Thank goodness I named the my two girls, currently code named, M1 and M2, with sensible sounding names that are easy to pronounce. Yet, we have people pronouncing them wrongly, or worst, spelling wrongly! Horrors.
During my early working years, I encountered many creative minds and with creative names, it was such an eye opener. The one that stands out most after all these years was from my working at a local publishing house. An enthusiastic ad salesman came a calling and introduced himself as Calvin but spelt, ‘Qalvin’, proudly showing me his business card!
Unimpressed, I queried him on this choice of spelling for the name and then, pointed out to him that a ‘u’ technically should follow after the ‘Q’ – typical of the letter ‘Q’.
I then went on teasing him, purposely emphasizing “QUAIL-vin” prominently, and this embarrassed the heck out of him. I guess he wasn’t impressed too for he never dropped by after that incident.
Honestly, I have no objections to one having a creative name, I am just of the opinion that it must be spelt correctly. Remember my ‘English teacher’ calling my mother intended me for? And it would be a bonus if the chosen name goes well with the person’s physical appearance.
Call me old school or whatever but wouldn’t it be more significant if one looks like their name? I often asked my girls if I had switched their names, how would it be like? They’d squint their eyes for a minute before bursting into contagious laughter! Obviously, they cannot imagine one being the other. See my point of one looking like their name?
I’ve come across a sweet lady aptly named Apple (coincidently in New York City), a bridegroom named Cyclops, perfectly healthy and with two eyes unlike what the name conjures up in the mind (only in Hong Kong you get something like this!) and of course, the timid bird-like Qalvin (in Kuala Lumpur)!
Last week, I was down in Singapore attending an exhibition and met up with a ‘Seaman’ and a ‘Kinus’, from Singapore and Hong Kong respectively. I had to refrain from laughing in front of them as I found their choice of name so totally wrong with their physical appearance and country of origin.
Walking away, I commented to the hubby, “I met a Seaman.”
“Semen?” He asked incredulously.
“Oh stop it! It’s ‘s-e-A-m-A-n’. Got a couple of ‘A’s in between, ok?” I pointed out and in a way, was relieved Seaman did not look like a dick head.
“Aiyoh…. Why choose such a name?” the hubby could not fathom.
Makes me wonder too. Whatever happened to good old safe choices to avoid the embarrassment of correcting someone spelling your name wrongly?
It’s so typical every time after the exams. I would receive a phone call from M2 the minute she arrived home and reported the good news. But if I do not get a call from her, it’s pretty obvious the results are otherwise.
It became so predictable until she perfected her Drama Queen act, and each time I fall prey… dang.
M2 once declared that “Chicken is Awesome!” having eaten all her favorite chicken dishes for a whole week.
But soon after, there were some pork dishes and a new declaration, “Chicken is awesome but pork rocks!”
My girl rocks, I tell ya. Flattery to the chef!
A few years back when M2 discovered the joy of writing little notes and messages, she wrote a lot and scattered them here and there for me to discover. One day, I found a note listing down all my favorite things. Aww… How sweet.
Scanning the list, my heart swelled, “Golf, iPad, Travel, Wine…” she knows her mummy well. Then, “Cow’s Burp!”
Intrigued, I asked her what that was and she went, “Cow’s Burp? Oh, that is what you and daddy drink when you go out!”
“Ahh… You mean Carlsberg!” I said, totally tickled.
“Uh-huh, Cow’s Burp. Isn’t that how it is spelt?” she looked at me with eyebrows raised.
Err… not quite but close, Cow’s Burp, Carlsberg. Chortle!
Angieneering 
Remarks