Pet Potato: Day 100

100 days! Imagine that! Pet Potato is 100 days old today! And to commemorate this significant milestone, let me show you just how far tall he's come:

Doesn't he look grand? I gave him a little walking stick a couple of weeks back so he can have something to lean on. Also, he's just a friendly chap, and he likes the company, even though it's really just a dead branch that fell off some nearby tree, but don't tell him that. Pet Potato's got many many many many leaves now, and they're growing baby leaves of their own.

So pleased to see Pet Potato and his little troop of leaves.

That being said, it's a sad day for Olive. You know those people, the ones with green thumbs, and they can just chuck some random seeds into a pot and the next thing you know they've got some exotic beauty of a bonsai in their garden? Well, I'm not one of those people. Olive got her seeds eaten by ants, and I watched as one by one they disappeared. Here, let me show you what I mean:

Olive's gone. The ants didn't leave a single one to sprout. They left the husks though. Maybe I shouldn't have made it easier for them by cracking open the shells and exposing the sweet treasures within. But nevermind. We've got a substitute for Olive. And he's tough and scary, this next one. Let me introduce you to Rambutan.

They're the red furry fruits (the green ones are Apple's older siblings, all grown up). They're tropical fruits, very sweet, reminiscent of lychees, and no, I didn't pop them into the ground whole like that. You've got to split the skin open, eat the flesh, and then you've got the seeds, like this:

I planted them in Olive's old place, and watered them a bit. Rambutan's more hardy than Olive (at least I think he is), so I'm hoping he takes root and grows grows grows! Better still if he develops mutant arms to wreak havoc and vengeance on those ants that nibbled away at poor little Olive.

And then there's Apple. Unfortunately, only half survived decided to grow, so the other two were discarded. But Apple seems to be doing fine; thick roots that grip the earth real tight (I know, because I had to dig them up to reposition them in the pot), thick stems and leaves all curled and furled.

That's it for this little update. Will be back soon with more news, if any! Cheers, people!

Deck The Halls

And we're back with another one for The Collection of Constipated, Convoluted Carols! Here's another really popular one, Deck The Halls:

Deck the halls with boughs of holly,

Fa la la la la la la la la. 

'Tis the season to be jolly,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Don we now our gay apparel,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Troll the ancient Yuletide carol,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

See the blazing Yule before us,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Strike the harp and join the chorus,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Follow me in merry measure,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

While I tell of Yuletide treasure,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Fast away the old year passes,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Hail the new, ye lads and lasses,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Sing we joyous, all together,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Heedless of the wind and weather,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Does anyone else think the lyricist got really lazy? Every other line of this song goes "fa la la la la la la la la" which essentially means the lyricist only had to work half as hard on this. I'm not complaining though; it means people who find it difficult remembering lyrics (like me) can brag of knowing 50% of the words to this carol. 54.17%, if you count "deck the halls with boughs of holly".

My real birthday dinner!

My birthday was on Friday, and I celebrated by staying at home and cleaning my room and scorching my finger while cooking up curry fried rice for my dinner.

Don't feel too bad for me. The pain went away the next day, and I cook really good curry fried rice. And then yesterday evening, we went to Gourmet Sausage for my real birthday dinner.

This is the Ultimate Burger. It's a huge burger made by layering a thick beef patty, cheese, turkey ham, bacon, fried egg, onions, tomatoes, and lettuce in a sesame seed bun, and comes with a side of chips. I drowned my chips in plenty of mustard and Tabasco. This is the first I've tried the burger, as I usually end up having the other items on the menu. But this burger is good and it's messy and the sauce dribbles down your chin and you need both hands to eat it. Just the way a real burger should be.

The next time we go back, I'm planning to have the same gooey burger, but with the pork patty!

Happy rawr!!!!

White Christmas

Back in 2006, not long after I shifted from ebloggy (nobody blogs on ebloggy!) to blogspot, I started a series of carol critiques entitled The Collection of Constipated, Convoluted Carols, which was supposed to be part of a bigger series of song critiques entitled The Selection of Sick, Sarcastic Songs. I was a funny kid, back then. Basically what I'd planned was to, and I quote the 21-year old me, take "songs that are usually viewed as perfectly normal and wholesome for the family" and "analys[e] them on my blog for everyone's viewing and reading (and hopefully laughing) pleasure". Pretty self-indulgent kid, huh?

Well I've decided to bring the whole thing back. I think I hear someone screaming. And I've decided to start with that really famous Christmas carol, White Christmas. I'm sure you know that one. It goes like this:

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten

And children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white

Only two stanzas, and pretty straightforward. I have several issues with this song though. Let's get started.

1st stanza: Why are you "dreaming" of a white Christmas that you "used to know"? I think of four possibilities: first, maybe you've migrated and you're not in a wintry place anymore, like maybe you're living in some faraway place where you don't get snow for Christmas. Somewhere exotic and tropical perhaps, like South East Asia, where it's summer and sweaty and sticky and sunny all year round. You don't get snow in the tropics; come to think of it, if you've never been out of the tropics, you prolly don't even know what snow looks or feels like. The second thing I think of, is maybe you're stuck in prison, and are surrounded by four grey walls (and a little grilled-up window, if you're one of the better-behaved inmates), and you don't have the option of getting out and going home, and you're staring at a picture of a little cottage all lit up with Christmas lights amidst a howling blizzard. All you remember of snow is the memories you had of the time before you were incarcerated, and the odd pictures and postcards your family/friends send to you (please reference picture above). Thirdly, I think of someone who's got a sleep disorder like narcolepsy, and you can't help it but you're just super exhausted all the time and you end up spending more time asleep than awake, and thus you only see snow and winter in your dreams. In fact, you see everything in your dreams, that's how much time you spend sleeping. Fourthly, maybe you're a vampire and you've gotta have the curtains drawn at all times so the sunlight doesn't penetrate your abode and you can't go out in the day to play in the snow because your skin will go all sparkly diamonds and you can't go out at night because the wolves in the nearby forest won't let you. You "used to know" a white Christmas before you migrated to the tropics, or before you got locked up, or before they stopped giving you sugar and caffeine to keep you awake, or before that weird-looking fella with the sharp teeth bit you, but not anymore. No more white Christmas for you.

And why is it a "white" Christmas, anyway? What about us in the tropics? We may not have snow, but hey, we still have Christmas, y'know. And snow isn't really white. It's more off-white, or maybe even grey or brown, especially if you trudge around with your dirty boots. And I don't think people drive around on sleighs anymore. Or if kids even listen to "sleigh bells" anymore. Plenty of blaring car horns and annoying mobile ringtones and someone-forgot-to-switch-off-the-telly background noise, but nope, no more sleigh bells. You could download an app for it if you're really into sleigh bells though.

2nd stanza: I hate to break it to you guys, but no one actually writes Christmas cards anymore. You should count yourself fortunate (and well-liked) if you receive a few sms-es, but you're gonna get most of your greetings through Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. Maybe an email or two. If you've got those kind of friends. And again, why all this emphasis on having a "white" Christmas? It's summer in Australia. How do you think the Aussies feel when they play this song on the airwaves? But if you're really dead set on having snow for Christmas, you can always get one of those snow machines. Heard they're really popular in Asian tourist-centred streets and shopping malls these days. Get a smaller one though; you don't need all that snow in the living room. And it's gonna be a huge pain, trying to get rid of all that melted snow on Boxing Day.

Have a white Christmas, everyone!

P.S. Here are the links to The Collection of Constipated, Convoluted Carols from all the way back in 2006: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, Santa Claus is Coming to Town. End of P.S.

Cleaning my room

Most people would see house-cleaning as a chore. Some would try to put it off as much as possible. Me? I decided to clean my room in celebration of my birthday. Strange, I know. But I was more efficient this time around; I tried not to mess the place up since the last clean-up (that took a few days!), and this time around it only took slightly more than a day (I started yesterday morning and finished this afternoon). That's improvement for you.

This time I even managed to tidy up the few areas I neglected the last time. Re-arranged books, re-packaged bags upon bags of junk, threw out unnecessary items, and wiped down surfaces. Not all though, just the most visible areas. I stumbled upon quite a few interesting (and forgotten) things, too!

Like socks.

FOUR pairs of socks, mind you. Got these in Sydney during my graduation trip.

And the batch of earrings I thought were gone. They had apparently fallen off my table and into the aforementioned bags upon bags of junk. I like these earrings not because they were expensive (they weren't), but because the cupcakes are really cute and the white roses are really pretty and girly.

Also found a book which I used when I was much younger to scribble down ideas and inspirations for stories and essays (uh-huh, I was one of those girls who thought creative writing was a hobby, not homework).

At the end of it all, I took out some of my Christmas toys and decorated little sections of the room. It's quite festive now. And Christmas is only 10 days away!

Cheers, people!

27

Happy birthday, me!

Souvenirs from Sibu

Sibu is a town in Sarawak, approximately 180 km from Kuching (Wikipedia, very useful, you should check it out sometime). I haven't visited Sibu in a very long time, but I have memories of one of the night markets. Mention Sibu, and many people think of food. I think of food too, like chee cheong fun drowning in dark oily sauce, and kompia that can last for days and weeks (not sure about the lasting weeks bit, they're usually gobbled down in mere hours). I know most people will immediately bounce off the walls and go hysterical because I didn't mention kampua mee, but looking back, I don't recall eating kampua mee when I was in Sibu. Or maybe I was just too young and my memory wasn't properly functioning back then. In recent years I've thought once twice several times about going backpacking around the country, just taking pictures and eating lotsa good food and making new memories. But it's just not convenient currently, and going all the way to Sibu just to eat kampua mee is a bit loony, even for me.

So you'll understand the happiness I felt when I had kompia, kampua mee and dabai brought to our dining table all the way from Sibu.

This is kompia.

If you've never seen kompia, you might say it looks like mini bagels. It tastes like mini bagels too. Ask the local people what it's called in English and they might tell you "Foochow burger". I guess this is a reference to the Chinese dialect who originally came up with this particular dish in Sibu (not sure about this, just thinking of a logical explanation), and you might see it sliced in half and filled with a minced meat mix, just like a 'burger'.

This is kampua mee. I don't know what kampua means, but mee means noodles. Wait. Let me go check on Wikipedia. Be right back. While I'm away, just stare at this picture:

Back. Wikipedia doesn't explain what the word kampua means, but they give a pretty good description of the dish: "noodles tossed in pork lard or vegetable oil, fried shallots, spring onions and sometimes soy sauce and/or chilli sauce". This is probably the first time I've eaten kampua mee with soy sauce, since the ones I'm familiar with come plain.

This last picture here is dabai. I've talked about dabai before, and in fact, one of my Pet Companions is a family of dabai seedlings (read about Olive here). Relatively simple food, just soak in warm water for a bit and season with soy sauce/salt/sugar.

And that's it, our souvenirs from Sibu! We finished the kompia and kampua mee within 24 hours of their arrival, and we're finishing up the remnants of the dabai. The next time any of you are planning a trip to Sibu, you know what to bring back for me! *grin*

Pet Potato: Day 86

Wow. Day 86. Have that many days passed since Pet Potato first came to be? I still remember when Pet Potato was still just a... well, potato.

I dug the Pet Companions up the other day and disappointment greeted me. Durian had split its hard exterior and was spewing the contents of its rotten innards. And no, I did not take any pictures of that because it's just plain gross. Olive, on the other hand, was so shy she refused to come out of her shell. Literally. This meant two things: one, I would have to throw Durian out (rotten!) and two, I would have to help Olive along (shy!).

Remember Pet Potato's new playmate from a few days ago? He seems to be doing well, like really really well, so he's taking over Durian's home, and I'm calling him Apple because he's a seedling from a tree in our garden that bears what looks like miniature apples or something like that. I managed to locate quite a few other similar seedlings as well, so Apple the new Pet Companion has some pet companions of his own.

Olive is still Olive, but I replaced those old seeds with fresher ones, and cracked them open with the help of a mortar and pestle. That should help with the sprouting, no?

Pet Potato's doing amazing, in case you're wondering. Taller, bigger leaves, sprouting more branches left and right, sending his roots all over the place.

Pet Potato's a friendly chap, and I'm sure he'll get along just fine with his new old friends.

Stay happy and green, Pet Potato!

Fuyu cake!

It's fruit season here, and it's a little crazy, the amount and variety of fruit we have lying about the house. I'm quite picky when it comes to certain fruits though, and I can't seem to enjoy some of them. Persimmons. I don't like persimmons. Not even as a child. I find them strange, and can't wrap my head around the texture or taste. I recoil in disgust at the sight of persimmons.

But what do you do when you have a whole lot of persimmons lying around? What do you do when they threaten to rot and fester?

You make cake!!!!

I did some research online, and concluded that the persimmons we had were fuyu persimmons and not hachiya persimmons (fuyu = short, flat bottom, hard texture, crispy; hachiya = more elongated, eaten when soft and squishy). And fuyu cake is pretty popular, or so it seems, and I thought why not, might as well give it a try. And fine, I was craving cake.

The recipe was easy, the ingredients readily available: mix together flour, fuyu (I diced them up), baking soda and/or powder, sugar, salt, butter, raisins and some spices, then bake. There are plenty of recipes for fuyu cake online, and they've all got varying measurements and ingredients (some have raisins, some don't, some have nuts, some are too simple I got scared), but I suppose it's all really a matter of personal taste. Adjust accordingly.

And here's what my beautiful fuyu cake looked like, fresh out of the steamer (I used the high-tech rice cooker thingamajig again). It was quite amazing: great texture, all soft innards and crisp crust. The spices gave it a real depth and richness, and the aroma was like something you'd get walking into a fancy restaurant.

I might just squeal in delight the next time I see persimmons in the house.

Pet Potato: Day 83

It's been nearly a week since my last Pet Potato update.

Pet Potato seems to have met a new playmate.

And look how tall he's gotten!

Pet Potato is a very happy pet potato.

Trapped

You know you're trapped when

you're too scared to go forward

and it's too late to move backward.

All those forgotten springs,

way too hard to spread your wings

and see what tomorrow brings.

Oh you know you're trapped then.

© EScetera 2006 - 2012 

Pet Potato: Day 77

... look look look look look look LOOK!!!!!!!

Look at the little flower bud!
Look at the miniature green leaves!
Look at the purple shades underneath!
Look at the tender stalks shooting up!

Pet Potato is growing!!!!

Pet Companions!

Meet the Pet Companions!

This is Olive:

And this is Durian:

I worried that Pet Potato would feel rather lonely sitting by himself in the garden (he can get pretty emo, especially when it rains at night), so I decided to give him some friends.

Olive isn't actually an olive, since it's really a dabai or kana plant (scientific name: canarium odontophyllum). They're commonly called tropical olives though, since they look like olives and all. To be even more neurotic and exacting with the whole name-giving process, Olive shouldn't even be called Olive, since there are four seeds, but the name Olives (plural) sounds weird so I'm just sticking to Olive (singular). I think she's happy with that. As for Durian, well, pretty self-explanatory: Durian is Durian because it's a durian seed, and there's only one of him.

They're all basking in the sun in their matching blue porcelain pots as I'm typing this.

I hope you're happy now, Pet Potato.

Pet Potato: Day 72

Yesterday Pet Potato turned 72 days old and I decided to check on his progress. Dug him up from his earthen home, and horror of horrors, the alien fungi have returned.

I was quite upset. I thought Pet Potato might have been able to fight off the alien fungi, especially after removing the contaminated bits, but it seems the white terrors are pretty strong. Here's the thing: it's not like I'm intending to eat Pet Potato's sproutlings in the future. Logically, this means I can still keep Pet Potato despite the alien fungi, right? I mean, if Pet Potato is able to grow and sprout and bloom despite the alien fungi, and I'm not going to eat him and face the risk of food poisoning and all, then he can still remain my Pet Potato, right?

Twilight: it's over now

I'm writing this right away, before I forget the experience and the emotions, or procrastinate and get too lazy to blog.

Just got back from watching Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2, and all I can say is "wow". It's really over, five movies later. I guess the wait was shorter for me, since I only got started on the Twilight craze a couple of years back, in mid-2010, while I was studying in Sydney. I guess a little explaining is in order, since some of you might remember me scoffing and trashing the books and movies when they first came out. And especially since I'm supposed to have 'good taste' in books and all (at least that's what's implied and expected of English majors, but I say this with quite a bit of eye-rolling and sarcasm). But all that ridiculing and teasing and poking fun at certain golden-eyed sparkly-skinned individuals was before I actually sat down and watched the first movie. A few of us were at a coursemate's place, and she'd popped the DVD into the player so all us literature people could have a good laugh at the horror of it all. I just didn't expect to be immediately (more or less) caught up in the idyllic fantasy of it all. If you were to ask me to describe the first movie, I would tell you it was all blue and purple tones and googly eyes and dreamy (very dreamy) music. Just up my alley of emo-ness. Beautiful.

Silver lining

There's a silver lining

in ev'ry cloud that's greying

if we just stop looking

down and depressing.

© EScetera 2006 - 2012

Pet Potato: Day 65

Earlier in the week, I'd removed Pet Potato from his water bath and left him sitting happily on the windowsill, looking out into the great big world. So you can imagine my horror on Friday (Day 65) when I went to check on him: Pet Potato had been invaded by alien fungi!!!!

I took him out to the garden for a better look. Poor Pet Potato. He was squishy and oozing some foul-smelling brown-black liquid. It was a miserable moment, standing there in the garden, knowing the whole while that I had to dispose of Pet Potato.

I took several snapshots of Pet Potato, and watched as he posed and pondered upon what should have been his rightful place in our garden. And just when I was about to toss him out into the Giant Vegie Patch beyond, I realized I couldn't; not just yet, and especially not when there was still a chance that Pet Potato could be rescued.

A frenzy of activity ensued: the Great Potato Rescue was under way! I dug about for all the tools and items I would need. I was swift, I was ruthless, I was efficient. By the end of it, I had removed the parts of Pet Potato that had been contaminated with the alien fungi. What was left was a smaller, but very healthy-looking, version of Pet Potato. I looked for the prettiest porcelain pot I could find, picked out some stones, and aerated some earth. Filled the bottom of the pot with the stones, carefully poured in the earth, and snugly tucked Pet Potato into his new home.

And this is where Pet Potato is to this day (I'm typing and posting this on Day 68), sitting outdoors where I can conveniently keep watch over him, sunning him by day and watering him by night. The only downer to this whole thing is having to touch that moist earth. Moist earth means earthworms, and there were some (three thin ones to be exact) at the bottom of the pot when I went to check on Pet Potato this noon. Supremely grossed out. *shudder wiggle squirm*

Pet Potato: Day 60

I've been really worried about Pet Potato. It's Day 60, and he's still not sprouting any roots. Today I took him out of his little plastic-jar home, and there was some white gooey ick on the lower surface. I washed it off, gave him a good little wipe with some loo paper. Something I'd read online, earlier in the afternoon before I started inspecting Pet Potato, made me wonder:

Did I somehow manage to drown Pet Potato???

Apparently (and here's the bit that gave me a bit of a shock), it's possible to overload on water with potatoes, i.e. too much water is bad for potatoes. And to think I've been soaking Pet Potato in a water bath all this while. And apparently potatoes need sunlight, but this last couple of weeks Pet Potato has been beautifying the confines of my dim damp bathroom. Is that why you're not rooting, Pet Potato? *heartbreeeeeeeak*

On the bright side, there's one aspect in which Pet Potato has really flourished: the little buds that emerged from Pet Potato's eyes are really quite big now. Almost the size of my thumb! If you look closer and squint a bit (fine, you don't actually have to squint), it's actually quite pretty (or gross - I've felt both pride and disgust when I look at Pet Potato lately). Based on my online research this afternoon, I can expect to get beautiful purple flowers, and this excites me because Pet Potato has what appears to be little tiny purple tender furled-up flower buds! You can actually see individual petals (is that what you call those little leaf-like bits of a potato?) all over Pet Potato!

Don't you think Pet Potato looks like a real animal in the following picture, like maybe from the same family as snails or something (use your imagination, squint if you have to, think of the purple-yellow sprouts as his head and the potato as his hump or shell):

Anyway, I've decided to keep Pet Potato away from water for a bit. Well, maybe I'll flick some water at him when he starts looking parched, but I won't be submerging him in water for maybe a couple of days, just to see if he'll start rooting. If that doesn't work, I'll just plant him in a pot of earth.

But for now, Pet Potato will just have to sit in his waterless abode (it's really just a red plastic jar) on the windowsill and wistfully watch the world go by.

Oh Pet Potato, why so emo?