and we're off!

Leaving bright and early for Waiheke Island tomorrow - and when I come back, I'll be a married woman.

My, oh my!

t.i.r.e.d

It's been nearly a week of non-stop entertaining, wining and dining, driving to and fro, talking about the wedding, talking about what I'm going to wear for the wedding, talking about who's coming to the wedding - so much so that I'm counting the days till the wedding is over so I don't have to talk about it anymore - for a few days at least. 

I've never been a bridezilla. I tackled the whole wedding thing with precision and organisation, the way I would at work when I'm planning an event. Sure, I bought the prerequisite magazines and looked through some websites for ideas, but mostly, when it's done, it's done - and I'm really not the kind of person to explain over and over what the trimming on my veil looks like or whether my hair will be up or down. 

I've also found myself 'force-smiling' over the last couple of days, whenever someone went 'Oooohhh, four days to go! Are you soooo excited??' All I do is smile mutely and nod my head. And then I walk away. Yes, I'm excited. But I'm not the bubbly, jump-up-and-down kinda gal either. I keep my excitement under check and tend not to wear my emotions on my sleeves. Sometimes I think everyone else around me is more visibly psyched about the big day than I am. 

While I'm really happy about having all our family and closest friends with us, I just want to be a wife, his wife, and have the day go by without any glitches. I really don't want to think about our song list, the seating chart, transportation, accommodation, bills, the colour of anyone's outfits, my wedding shoes, or the dress anymore. 

So we're down to three days. I'm exhausted and achy from sleeping late, waking up early and consuming too much alcohol. My voice is hoarse from talking 24/7, there is still much to do for the upcoming weekend, which The Boy and I must somehow find time for, and I'm beginning to feel slightly feverish. 

It'll be worth it, I keep telling myself. Life will get back to normal at some point, and The Boy and I will be able to enjoy married life without running around like headless chickens. Until then, I'm determined to enjoy every moment. 

But someone get me another cup of coffee, please. 

for always

"We need a witness to our lives. 

There's a billion people on the planet; 

so what does one life really mean? 

But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. 

The good things, the bad things, 

the terrible things, the mundane things... 

all of it, all of the time, every day. 

You are saying: 

Your life will not go unnoticed 

because I will notice it. 

Your life will not go unwitnessed, 

because I will be your witness."

(Beverly Clark, Shall We Dance)

to have and to hold

Reading through my vows today, I had a thought. I thought about the many people who have made these vows before me, all meaning them when they said it. All saying it with the expectation that their marriage will be forever. All saying it with hope for a happy marriage. And then I thought about the many people attending our wedding who are divorced and on their second marriages, and I felt inexplicably sad.

What makes one marriage work and not the other? All these couples I know have said these vows once and meant them. Once, they promised their lives, and hearts, and faithfulness to another person, in the eyes of God and all those present at their wedding. How did that promise get forgotten or discarded? Did the love disappear? Did they not really mean them in the first place? Did he/she turned out to not be the right one; and if so, why would you have made that commitment in the first place if you weren't sure? Why are there at least six people in our small wedding ceremony who have been divorced? And what does all these mean for me and my hope for the future?

I know I shouldn't be thinking about these things. But I can't help it. I can't help but look at my friends and family, whom I love with all my heart, and wonder how it got this way. In ten days, I will make a lifetime promise. A promise to love, cherish, be faithful to, and stand side by side a man I love more than anything, through all things, for always, and I will mean every word. But so did all these people once. 

I am full of questions today. Not about my love and commitment to The Boy. But about whether love, at the end of it all, is simply enough. I once told The Boy that the thing that makes him different from all my previous relationships, previous loves, is more than the fact that he is both my lover and best friend. But that I finally found someone I could call my soul-mate. 

We're certainly not peas in a pod. The truth is, we couldn't be more different, or have stronger opinions that differ on certain issues. But the thing we do have in common is we both left our homes, our lives, because we knew that there must be something more - and ended up finding each other in completely unexpected ways. We're both risk-takers. We're both family-oriented. We have the same dream for the future. And we both love deeply, and passionately. Right now.

So what makes one marriage work and not the other? How does one get away with promising to love someone for the rest of his/her life, only to throw it away when the going gets tough, or when you realise he/she is not the right one, or when you find someone better? Is there still any sanctity left in marriage, and any point in making this commitment?

I read this quote somewhere and it's stayed with me since: "Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime - that it becomes a miracle." 

I want a miracle. So why am I so afraid?

of brownies and celebration

The Boy's parents arrive from Germany today - and in about four hours we'll be picking them up from the airport. I'm all jitters - not because I'm nervous at seeing them again, but more because of the fact that once they're here, the celebration starts. 

There's no turning back now (not that I want to), no more time to spend hours at home baking, lazing on the couch with my book, and watching re-runs of Sex and The City over and over. The last guest we have here leaves on the 29th of December. In short, yesterday was our last night of peace and quiet - until the end of the year.

To celebrate their imminent arrival, yesterday I decided to do what I do best when I feel restless. I cook. Or in this occasion, I baked. A plateful of cream cheese brownies that hopefully The Boy's dad, with his perpetual sweet tooth, will devour, as there's simply no way The Boy and I can eat this all by ourselves (at times like this, children do come in very handy). 

In the evening, we will be taking my future father and mother-in-law to our place, where I will again show-off my culinary skills (or lack there-of), by preparing a dinner of oven-baked honey chicken, coupled with butter-herb rice, and a bottle of some soft red wine, toasting the start of a eleven-day-long celebration until the wedding. 

I can't believe this is really happening. 

sheep ahoy!

Okay, I have been living in New Zealand for a year and a half now - and have yet to talk about/take photographs of/mingle with some of my co-habitants - hundreds of which I met yesterday while on a walk with The Boy in Cornwall Park.

The myth is that for every one person living in New Zealand, there are twenty sheep. While that figure could be slightly exaggerated  for dramatic purposes, it is almost impossible to spend time in Aotearoa without encountering sheep, horses or cows at some point or another.

So yesterday afternoon, armed with my camera, a sweater, and my eye constantly scanning the ground on the lookout for poo, the Boy and I carefully walked through a field where at least a hundred sheep were grazing, trying to get as close as possible without getting kicked by a woolly hind-leg. 

It was certainly an experience for me. Nowhere in Malaysia do you get to walk in a park amongst animals grazing right next to you, or have a picnic on the grass without breathing in smog every few seconds. I felt like I was on vacation, and if it wasn't for the poo, I would have laid on the grass, and whiled the afternoon away watching sheep-shaped clouds pass by.

On a separate note, why is the plural for sheep, still 'sheep'? 

apron strings

I used to wonder why my grandma was in the kitchen all the time. Every time we went over to visit, I would make a beeline for the kitchen to say hi, and there she would always be. Sometimes her hands would be covered in flour. Other times she would be chopping and dicing. And always, she would have food prepared - regardless of whether it was lunch, time for dinner, or simply because we were children and always hungry.

In retrospect, watching us eat and cooking for us, was probably how she fulfilled her duties and felt satisfied as a grandma. No, she wouldn't read to us. Nor would she play blocks with us on the floor. But she would always cook. And how I wish she was still here, to teach me how to make the wonderful meals she did. 

My time at home has re-ignited my passion for cooking. A few days ago, I tried making grandma's recipe for chinese meat balls for the first time (or bah kien as my family would say in Hokkien) - a process which took me nearly two hours in chopping, dicing, more chopping, marinating, ball-forming, and then frying. The result? Completely worth it. 

This morning, I made myself some double chocolate muffins for breakfast. Okay, it probably isn't very healthy, and not the ideal breakfast food - but I'm in a baking mood. Over the past few days, I've also been bookmarking different recipes I want to try - a cream cheese chocolate brownie and a white chocolate, raspberry muffin are top on my list. 

It's funny how I used to think cooking was a waste of time. I suppose it's different back in Malaysia, with the many variety of cheap, delicious food you can get just by going to a street stall, without having to buy all the ingredients and cooking it yourself. These days, I would happily spend hours slaving in the kitchen to come up with a meal, or dessert, that would put a smile on my husband-to-be's face. 

I never thought I would say this, but today, my wish-list includes a spanking new set of muffin and cake tins, preferably of the Jamie Oliver series, as well as some new, heavy duty, non-stick pots, pans and a wok! Muffin, anyone?

reality check

Mr. Big: First of all - well, there are so many goddamn gorgeous women out there in this city.

Carrie: What an amazing observation!

Mr. Big: But the thing is this. After awhile, you just want to be with the one who makes you laugh.

Carrie: *big smile*

(Sex and The City)

mist

I miss home a lot today.

I miss being a child. Without any real worries - simply the problem of solving my daily homework, and wondering who to have lunch with at school the next day. And I never really worried about that too. I had many great friends all through school, and I wonder where they are now. 

And I never said this often enough, but thank you - mum and dad, for making sure I never had any worries. For allowing me to live carefree and secure in everything that I did. For loving me so much, and giving me everything you possibly can.

I miss you both the most. I miss impromptu karaoke session with dad, singing 'I've never been to me', spiking our coke with rum, and coming home drunk silly (yes, this is with my parents). I miss our soccer nights - the three of us in front of the telly watching Manchester United with our supper in hand - usually yummy satay sticks. Sometimes, mum would buy sushi. And we'd always, always have a bottle of wine.

I miss Ee Vee, who pops by every so often, lounges on my bed and starts talking about everything and nothing. Who heads to the closet and my bookshelf almost every time she's there, to pick up a new outfit or something new to read. I would give anything to have her here, going raiding my closet and talking to me about everything and nothing.

I miss going out late at night - where time was no limit. Meeting friends in bars for cocktails and bottles of wine, even at midnight - as we all know the party doesn't start until then. Getting drunk and then doing it all over again the following week.

I miss throwing parties. Especially during Christmas. We always had the Christmas tree up after dad's birthday on the 21st of November, and it would stay up until well over the New Year's. Mum and I would busy ourselves with food and drinks, the whole family exchanged presents, laughter, hugs, and we always had a great time. 

I miss a life that doesn't consist primarily of worry, fear and doubt. 

I miss laughing so hard my sides ache. 

I miss waking up and knowing, without a doubt, that everything is going to be okay.

Outside the rain begins and it may never end

So cry no more on the shore

A dream will take us out to sea

Forever more forever more

Close your eyes and dream

And and you can be with me

'Neath the waves through the caves of hours

Long forgotten now

We're all alone

We're all alone

Close the window

Calm the light

And it will be alright

No need to bother now

Let it out

Let it all begin

Learn how to pretend

Once a story's told

It can't help but grow old

Roses do

Lovers too

So cast your seasons to the wind

And hold me dear

Oh, hold me dear

Close the window

Calm the light

And it will be alright

No need to bother now

Let it out

Let it all begin

All's forgotten now

We're all alone

we're all alone

Close the window

Calm the light

And it will be alright

No need to bother now

Let it out

Let it all begin

Owe it to the wind, my love

clean and simple

I have many a few neuroses, that hopefully thankfully The Boy finds endearing. One of which is my absolute dislike of clutter - my word for any item in the house that's not of a specific use or purpose.

I'm not a hoarder. I’ve never been one. I detest all forms of clutter, which might have something to do with my slightly obsessive-compulsive/perfectionist personality, and my inability to tolerate a picture hung crooked, or the dinner table set incorrectly, but let's not go there.

So unless it’s a strategically-placed piece of art, a candle or two to add ambience to a room, a plant in the corner, or some simple, straightforward picture frames (same style and colour, but in different sizes) on the shelf, I generally don’t like knick knacks and decorative items that are not of any use, cluttering up the tables, walls and shelves.

I’m always tidying up after The Boy, especially when he leaves papers, pens, tools, wallet and the such on the kitchen table. I put it away in drawers, folders and respective shelves (where it belongs), which annoys him to no end as he’s never able to find it afterwards (why not, I'm never really sure, as it's always there in the exact spot I tell him it is.)

So you can only imagine my dilemma, whenever I receive presents of such a nature. I would gladly accept a set of matching candles, a pretty bowl, some wine glasses, a bath mat or even some hand towels, and truly appreciate it. But what do I do when someone kindly, thoughtfully, buys me a ceramic mug with my name on it, that I can't use? Or a lovely cardboard picture, that I'm not quite able to frame and put on the wall, so it has to sit on a shelf somewhere. Or cute little figurines that doesn't do anything else except stand somewhere? Give me a lovely potted plant, or perhaps a book, and at least I know there's something I can do with it.

Now this is not to say I don't admire certain collection of 'stuff'. My dearest mum for instance, used to (I'm not really sure if she does anymore), have a lovely collection of plates from each country she visits. When I was little, I would gaze at all the plates - in all shapes, sizes and colours - hanging on the wall, and tell myself one day I will go to all these places too. They fascinated me, and reminded me of exotic and exciting destinations every time I walked past them.

But until today, and much to The Boy's infuriation at times, I have a tendency of throwing out things I know we will never use, or that have been buried in drawers for so long, it's covered in dust. After all, what's the point of keeping something you haven't used or seen in a whole year? I have since, very wisely I thought, created a clutter drawer - where all things of a cute but not-quite-useful nature disappears into until I do my annual de-cluttering.

I suppose it's fine to throw something out that I bought on a crazy whim, usually when I travel (we tend to buy knick knacks when we're traveling that we otherwise never would); but what do you do when it's a gift? Is it okay to throw it out immediately? Or should you keep it around for a year or two in the garage, and THEN throw it out?

Today, at a whim, I put on my wedding dress, jewellery, and headpiece, and looked at myself in the mirror for awhile. Finally, I put it all away, satisfied that it was simple, clean, elegant, and clutter-free. It's certainly not extravagant, and has no bows and frills. But it serves its purpose in an understated way - and that's just how I like it. 

dum dum da dum

The Boy and I received our first two wedding congratulatory cards from his family in the UK today, who unfortunately are not able to make the wedding. 

One of them made me laugh and wince at the same time. Remember those birthday cards that plays a birthday tune when you open it? Well, this one plays the wedding march - complete with trumpets and all. I simply had to smile. And then I closed it rather quickly.

In exactly two weeks, The Boy's parents will be in town, and the festivities will start. I am somewhat glad I am not working at the moment, as I will be able to spend time with them - and hopefully get to know my future in-laws a little better. 

Looking back at the year since our engagement, we've certainly managed to scrape through a lot of rough patches, as well as enjoyed some truly wonderful moments - such as our trip to Malaysia, our anniversary weekend in Melbourne, and moving to St. Heliers (fulfilling a life-long wish to live by the sea).

The ride is always up and down, and will probably continue to be up and down. But reading the kind words and well-wishes from friends and family gives me a warm glow inside. It reminds me that no matter how hard the journey may get for The Boy and I, we'll always have people around us who cares. 

And that knowledge, is probably worth having another look at the card that sings. 

wake up and smell the coffee

I have become a bona fide housewife - sans the children. Each morning, I wake up and make the bed, smoothing out the duvet cover, fluffing the pillow, and folding down the edges of the blanket, ready for The Boy and I to sink into come night time. 

I then head to the kitchen to make myself a pot of freshly brewed coffee, while wiping dry any dishes left from the night before. Hot cuppa in hand, I sit on the couch and switch on my laptop, checking emails, reading the news and a few of my favourite blogs, and then my book (currently Me, Myself and Prague) if nothing interesting is happening in cyber-world. 

An hour and a half later, and I'm thinking of breakfast/lunch. Some days, it is simple scramble eggs and toast. Last week, it was mostly French toast as I tried to perfect the recipe. Today, I made congee with chicken stock, fried eggs, anchovies and fried 'yau char kwai' otherwise known as crullers, which I happily indulged in while observing my cat basking in the sun on the patio. 

Then the chores start. I hand-wash the dishes (oh how I long for the days of dishwashers again) and pots and pan. I then hand-dry them, and put them away, making sure I rotate the plates and bowls so that the most recently used ones are at the bottom of the stack. I do the same with the glasses and cutlery, so that all my tableware are used equally. 

I clean the counter and the stove. I re-arrange the fruits in the fruit basket, pour myself a glass of juice, and move to the bathroom. There, I wipe the sink and the mirror. I pick at any visible dust/stray hair/cat's fur on the floor. I look into the laundry basket to see if there's any washing to be done. There usually is. I pick out the clothes I want to wash and put them in the washing machine.

In the two hours it takes for the washing to be ready, I do any of the following combination: go for a walk, watch a DVD, read, write, vacuum, water the plants, give my cat a cuddle, learn German with the new lesson software I just bought, buy/prepare ingredients for dinner (if I'm cooking), play some tunes on the piano, or surf online for part-time jobs I can do to occupy my time. 

And then I hang up the laundry - which usually means first folding and putting away the previous washing still up on the rails (with the unpredictable cold/rainy weather, it takes a good two days for clothes to dry, by which time another load of washing usually needs to be done).

The Boy normally returns home when I've had my shower, and we prepare dinner together. We are a great team in the kitchen - he makes a mess, and I clean it up. I am a self-professed neat freak, and tend to clean as I'm cooking, or as he's cooking. I also can't stand dishes sitting in the sink for more than an hour before I start to fuss and clean up. This cooking/eating/cleaning routine typically takes about two hours depending on what we make, and then it's time to settle down for the night. 

There is a certain routine to my days at this point. I am seemingly busy while not really achieving anything, but the days are flying by. And while my time consists of nothing more exciting then thinking of what to cook for my next meal, I'm determined to treasure every minute of it before the barrage of family and friends arrive from Germany, Malaysia and Australia in two weeks. 

For a driven, ambitious, restless person, I'm sure enjoying my time being a pseudo hausfrau. One day I will have to face the reality of working again. But some days, there's simply nothing more enjoyable than cooking a delicious, satisfying meal, reading books, and thinking about nothing important all day long. Next up on the menu? Grandma's chinese meat balls.