Thursday 28 February 2013

the great population debate

I am not very political, I don't indulge in debate nor do I wax lyrical about the plight of the common man etc etc.  That doesn't mean I don't care, I am just apathetic as the little peoples voices aren't heard.  However the powers that be in our tiny nation recently released a White Paper on Population
It got everyone all riled up about  who or what is a true Singaporean and do we have too many foreigners in the country, how many new citizens do we allow in each year and is a figure of 6.9 million in terms of population by 2030 realistic.  do we  really need to have all these people?

 I can understand why people want to come and live and work here. I can also understand why my fellow Singaporeans are bitching about this, its driving up real estate prices, its taking away jobs, its making our city state crowded.  Its making all Singaporeans appear xenophobic and hateful.

I saw what immigrants faced when I was in England in the late 1970's,  I was studying there and as I am of Asian origin,  I was naturally  the target of a little bit of xenophobic abuse (not very much but enough to piss me off)  Favourite eloquent phrase for them to utter was of course "Pakky go home"  Pakky being  a derogatory term for someone from Pakistan,  which to me back then, didn't make much sense as I wasn't from Pakistan. 

Immigrants leave their homes to find a better place to live, hoping to be able to live in peace, and give their children a better life.  It doesn't help that citizens of their chosen haven treat them with distrust and disdain.  Singapore is a country of immigrants, 90%  of the population is made up of people whose fore fathers came from places like China and India.  I myself am a second generation born Singaporean.

 Are Singaporeans really xenophobic, are we not welcoming of  foreigners?  I don't think so.  I think we are a pretty decent lot, we work hard, we do our best and we may be humourless (seriously, most of us have no sense of humour)  and strange but we aren't xenophobic.  What we are is tired of being pushed around in our own country by our elected leaders.

Leaders who were elected into office by us and somehow have lost the plot.
Read here one citizens comments 

Sunday 24 February 2013

things to do before the escape ....part 2

I have been looking up airline fares and of course thinking of how long I want to spend in Europe.
With the passport not collected yet,I can only browse fares and hope I get my passport back in time to get that cheap ticket.
So any thing remotely connected to air travel has me interested, like this article which appeared in our Sunday papers ( also in the New York Times travel section)
Its about noise in the airplane and noise in  our lives
Finding peace during noisy trips mentions a local budget carrier that for a few dollars more will put you in the 'Quiet Zone'
Oh my,  if only all airlines would adopt that zone!  I have always wanted to fly in a child free and quiet zone, its not that I don't sympathise with parents travelling with their adorable little menaces but thing is I have zero tolerance for children that misbehave and parents that are oblivious to their munchkins odious behaviour. I have blogged about this before so am not going to repeat myself. 

Anyway back to the article.
“The sound — that in itself isn’t the problem,” Mr. Puddicombe said. “The problem is the resistance in our mind.”   

The quote from the article made a whole lot of sense.  The article goes on to talk about learning to define the problem and how to deal with it.  ( Its always the obvious that needs to be spelt out and shoved down out throats, hmm so maybe the parents of the obviously odious munchkins aren't aware of their obviously fiendish behaviour?)

It has set me thinking about everything, not just learning how to deal with noise on the airplane, but how to adapt this philosophy to my everyday life. With my imminent travels, I will be exposed to different people and different situations, so I want to be able to 'zone' out and accept.

So lets see if I can "let go of what we want it to be, and move closer to accepting  what  is happening now"

Thursday 21 February 2013

gluten free blueberry muffins - breakfast fit for a grumpy goddess

Since I started this trying to be gluten free (notice I said trying) breakfast has been the hardest thing to get right.  I used to love my oats with honey and nuts and raisins, all good options only that it was hard to find gluten free oats.  Oats itself are gluten free but because of the way they are grown, due to cross contamination, they end up being full of gluten.
As I wanted to remain gas free (almost) and not spend enormous amounts of money to guy gluten free oats, i had to find something else to eat for breakfast.
Gluten free bread did help but it tastes pretty awful
So I decided to bake my own muffins. Blueberry lemon, carrot, vanilla, cinnamon, banana, you name it I made it.  I would bake a dozen, freeze some (the son wouldnt eat blueberry) and have enough to take to work for breakfast ( I cant eat early even though I get up early)
I had a day off today so made a fresh batch
This recipe I got off the internet from here
I changed a few things like using oil instead of butter and using only 1 cup of blueberries, using gluten free self raising flour ( I kept the baking powder but only 1 teaspoon) and omitting the gum.
They are fabulous

Wednesday 20 February 2013

one of lifes necessary evils.....insurance

So I  finally decided to get  medical insurance.
My parents neglected to teach us one thing - money management and insurance.
So that is why at a ripe old age of 50,  I am now buying medical insurance.

Insurance is a funny thing.
You pay all this money in the hope you get a disease/condition so that you can stick it to the insurance company and say "pay me suckers"
You cant however claim if you are already sick with something, somehow I missed this logic about why cant you cover me for something I already have and need the help to pay those fucking bills!!
Anyway
Below is what I cant claim for.........














So I am paying approximately $900 (with about an additional $800 that comes out of a government medical savings plan, oh wait that's my money too) a year not to be able to claim against my asthma, my thyroid and also breast cancer ( yeah so I have a few lumps that the boob man has  been monitoring since 2005 and it could turn into cancer some day and no I will not opt to do a double mastectomy now in case I get breast cancer)

Life's necessary evil - Insurance.


Tuesday 19 February 2013

WTF!







my blog as it appeared on Tuesday 19th Feb morning

Monday 18 February 2013

things to do before the escape part 1

The passport, which needed renewing, which meant getting a new picture taken and judging from my current (going to expire) passport this was something that needed careful consideration.  I did not want to look like the wicked witch from the east again in my passport picture.  The immigration guy in Barcelona had a right riot of a time looking at that picture and he even called his colleagues in to take a look and yes, laugh at it!
With a (semi) decent picture taken, all I had to do was fill up the application and post it out - DONE

The home - Here  lies the dilemma, I recently  spruced up the flat a bit and have gotten some plants in,  and all plants need tender loving care and water.  Who will be home to do that?  Son no 2?????
Am afraid there will be plant murder.

Son no 2 is the second dilemma - who will feed, do his laundry and treat the little shit like a king.......
Hmm this may be the best for him, me going off and leaving him to fend for himself,  and trust him with the home.
Yes I have trust issues!
which is why I am going to catalogue all my jewelry (I do trust the son with the jewelry, but not with locking the front door!) and get a safe deposit box for the obscene amount of gold I own (dont judge me I am Indian)

Cleaning, I will  have to ask Lena to continue to do the weekly clean while I am away but,  lovely Lena will have to take a pay cut as I am paying her way above the usual rate just because,  she used to,  when being paid by the hour, do more than the usual 2 hours so I  thought that I might as well pay a flat rate per week and yes I expected the same amount of time and effort.  Yes I am an idiot and have been paying her too much for doing less!  and I wonder why I have trust issues!

There are also a few thing to sort out in regards to credit card and mortgage payments (auto deduction from bank account) then of course my will.
Oh yeah there is one more thing - tell son no 2 that I am going to be away for a bit............



Wednesday 13 February 2013

dating again, episode 1

So I have been dating, the usual one date wonders.

Date 1
Swedish, 46
I was hard pressed to find something to say during the date.  It was a coffee date which was good, you know it will end within the hour! Telling me about his hernia operation wasnt something I thought was first date conversation... but then hey rules have changed!

Date 2
Australian, 52
I liked this one and we had drinks and lovely conversation.  we were supposed to have date 2 but he called the day before that could happen to say that he had met someone else he liked better, and he wanted to pursue that.  ok fine I understand but what I didnt quite get was why was he still active on the website and still trawling?  oh well

Date 3
Indian 44
he looked older, he looked different from his pictures.  He was short and skinny and his clothes looked too big for him, he smelt bad and he had a front tooth missing.  Yes am shallow!! Good thing we met for coffee as I was eager to escape.  He did want to have lunch but I said I had too many errands to run but he did however manage to extract a half promise for lunch on sunday!

I remind myself that it took me a year and a bit of bad dates before I met A and Mr NZ so its not going to be that easy.  I know I will have to date alot of toads and one date wonders before I find someone that will want to have that second and third date.  I am hopeful, but the thought of kissing those toads is making me nauseous.

my weighing scales are faulty

So these last few weeks my weighing scale has been acting very strangely.
It got dropped and when I got on the scales a few weeks ago, the weight it displayed was outrageous but it settled itself and went back to being normal.

Then on Monday I got on and the numbers that came up scared me silly!  I was sure the scales were wrong, totally ignoring the fact that I had been eating non stop for the last 3 weeks.

I had put everything I lost last year back on.  Its only a few pounds (well about 5 to be exact!!) but it makes a big difference to my rear end.  My eating of endless bars of sickeningly sweet chocolates had exacted a heavy (pun intended) toll  on my fluctuating weight.

I was so sure last year that I would not put the weight back on.  I eat to make myself feel better with chocolate being  an old and faithful friend that makes me feel good ...... for a few minutes but leaves me feeling guilty and lets not forget that the malt syrup has lots of gluten.
I was back to my old ways of over eating and stuffing my face to compensate for the loneliness and emptiness.
They ( I still dont know who they are but damn, they are smart) say that once you recognise why you overeat or indulge in copious amounts of  junk food, it is the start to helping yourself to stop doing it
Well I hope so, cos I am now back to wearing my'fat' dresses and I fucking hate it!

My asthma and back seem to get worse with the extra weight and I really do not want to go wondering around Europe and NZ wheezing and creaking!
So its time for a food and exercise intervention



Saturday 9 February 2013

Goodbye Tubby

I had a difficult decision to make yesterday.  I had to decide if I wanted treatment which would not be a cure but just a stop gap measure or to put Tubby down.

my pretty Tubby
We got Tubby in 1996, she was one of a litter of kittens that had been abandoned and rescued by a passing jogger who heard kittens mewing.  He had found them covered in red ants.  We were at the vets when he brought in the four little newly born kittens to see if the vet would look after them.  The vet did and when the kittens got older, they put them up for adoption.  My sons and I adopted one, a tiny kitten, with pretty eyelashes and a very large greedy appetite.  Hence the name Tubby.  She would eat till her tiny tummy would hit the floor and then she would stumble around like in a drunken stupor.

She never grew very big but she knew how to look after herself.  Our other cat was Pushka, a giant of a male cat but he was the most cowardly giant I ever saw!  What Tubby lacked in stature she made up for in daring and courage.  Pushka got sick in 2011, he had an aggressive form of cancer and his body was riddled with lumps.  We did try to save him, he went through surgery to remove the lumps and we were also considering chemo for him, but the lumps came back within weeks and we hung onto Pushka, as we were finding it hard to say goodbye.  He suffered and I regret making him suffer that much before we made the decision to put him down.
Tubby also had surgery in 2011, but her cancer was a milder form and she recovered fully.  A few weeks back Tubby was diagnosed with Hyperthyroidism.  She was losing weight, her heart was beating too fast.  She wouldn't take her tablets, we tried but it was too traumatic for her.  She would hide for hours, after we attempted to force feed her the tablets.   After we drew blood on one attempt, I decided to stop traumatising my Tubby.
I knew the end was coming when she started drooling so much.  She stopped cleaning herself as the drool would go all over her legs and face as she tried to clean.  Then yesterday there was diarrhoea.

No taxi would take my call for a pick up to the vets.  They refuse to take someone with a cat carrier.  I managed to talk to the vet on the phone and he gave me two options.  Give her the radiation Iodine treatment which would mean her being hospitalised for 6 weeks and see how it goes, or we could just leave her.  If she got no treatment she would deteriorate fast.   I made the decision to put her down.

My brother took son no 2 and I to the vet in the afternoon and we said goodbye to Tubby.


Wednesday 6 February 2013

Mondayitis

Breaking news
A new disease has been baffling experts.  Found mainly in highly urbanised areas, Mondayitis strikes people  in the age range of 25 to 60 in both men and women.

 For now medical experts are unable to determine how the disease spreads and are advising people to be more vigilant and continue to practise good hygiene.  Symptoms include dry mouth, a sudden bout of lethargy, and in some cases, diarrohea, headaches and sweating.
Recent studies also found that Mondayitis usually starts on Sunday nights and  lasts for a day or two and will not leave any scars.  It can however reoccur often.
Researchers have been baffled at the regularity  of how the disease creeps back into a person rendering their  immune system  incapable of fighting the symptoms.
The disease may incapacitate a person for two days but it is rarely fatal.  The disease is known to strike all people from all walks of life and in all nations  across the globe.  The World Health Organisation is working closely with all nations to find the best possible treatment for the disease.

Governments around the world are seriously considering legalising marijuana use for the treatment as the disease has been known to cripple large groups of people at one time. Victims of Mondayitis are hopeful that their governments will allow the use of Marijuana as part of the treatment as conventional types of cures do not seem to alleviate symptoms.

Stay tuned for the latest on the disease................




Monday 4 February 2013

a gathering of village idiots

My cousin, twice removed (or is it three), invited me for her sons engagement in the temple yesterday.  Its kind of hard to describe the relationship but her maternal grandfather was my paternal great grandmothers son by her first husband.  Confusing?  Yep, but interesting! 
 My paternal great Grandmother married some man called Mr Gurm, he died pretty early but they did have a son together (this son is my cousins Maternal Grandfather).  In India what they do to 'save' the honour of the family, in case the widow got unwanted attention from male members of the family, is to get her married again in the same family to a younger brother.  Which is what my great grandmother did.  She married the younger Mr Gurm, who was my great grandfather.
She went on to have 5 daughters and another son (my grandfather).
Anyway
I rarely head to the temple for prayers or Sunday services.  I am not a believer of religion and frankly the Punjabi community are not my favourite bunch of people either.  I only turn up at the temple when there is an invitation for a relatives wedding/engagement/funeral, which is like once a year or so, like yesterday.
We dress up to impress each other in our fine Punjabi Suits and jewelry and we watch each other to see if ladies are in the latest fashion and gossip about who did what and who chased her mother in law out and did you hear about that poor woman who committed suicide etc etc.  I hate gossip and although have indulged in it, I try my best not to pass on malicious rumours, hearsay and snide comments on people I have never met.  I have been the brunt of the same when I eloped with my ex (that's a whole different post!!) and when I divorced him.  I know how Hester Prynne must have felt!!
 Sitting amongst my own people usually leaves me feeling terribly isolated.

I am being mean when I give this post such a heading, but frankly that is what it felt like yesterday.
The custom of celebrating an engagement in the temple also includes the giving of blessing to the parents in the form of cash.  Men pass the blessing to the father of the groom to be and women to the mother  (bloody old fashioned and sexist but....)  and I did my part to try to get to my cousin to pass her the 'blessings". First I had to brave two dozen women who were pushing and shoving me out of the way to get to her, I got poked in the ribs, smacked in the head and even an elbow millimetres away from my eye.  By the time I got to my cousin, I just handed her the money and said" I'll see you later when women were not pushing so hard."  Not a good blessing to give but by then I had had enough but was looking forward to lunch.

In the Sikh religion, after any service or celebration, food is always served.. Its a must really to feed the congregation.  Any one  from any religion, caste or creed is allowed to go into a Sikh Temple and be fed after a service, whether or not you know the people who paid for the food that day.  Its good wholesome vegetarian food with something sweet for dessert.  Punjabi's have a terrible sweet tooth, and we make traditional sweetmeats on all occasions even funerals to celebrate the life that the person had led (only the older deceased people get sweets at their funerals though)
We had to wait as I have never seen so many people at the temple before which of course translated to long queues for the food.  Its not so much people coming to pray in the temple but it is more of a social gathering, a place to meet and chat, parade their unwed daughters and eat free food.  Emphasis on the free food.

So Sunday morning for me was going back to my roots and being part of the gathering of village idiots.


Friday 1 February 2013

i got into a strange mans car last night

Its not as bad as it sounds.
He was the guy who came to see me at home about an added security for the front door.  A wrought iron grill gate.

Our flats have simple doors with one lock on them, one could add more locks on the door but what we usually do is have a wrought iron gate in front of the main door which we lock and keep the wooden front door open to  allow the breeze to waft in.  This helps when it gets sweltering hot and hardly any breeze comes through the windows.
It also gives added security, as there would be two locks the thieves would have to pick and not one which would take them longer to get into the flat and by then someone would have heard them and they would get caught....well that's what I think.  It's also an added security in that son no 2 will remember to lock the front door (he has forgotten a few times) if he had 2 doors to lock......well I am hoping.
Anyway back to the strange man

Andy the grill man came over and I was quite happy to sign off on the gate he proposed but what I didn't know was that he wanted a  40% deposit immediately.  I rarely keep more than $50 in my wallet and I don't have a cheque book, so I had to go downstairs with him to an ATM machine which we have right under our block of flats.
The damn cash machine was empty !! (its Chinese New year in about 10 days so everyone has been at the cash machine withdrawing copious amounts of cash to put into red packets which are called HongBaos to hand out to relatives)
So Andy the grill man suggested he drive me to the other cash machine which was about  5 mins away. I did think twice, I did think he was extremely eager to tie things down. But I got in anyway!!

So that's how on Thursday night I got into a strange mans car

why you should watch what you say in front of mini people....i mean children

My younger sister will be turning 48 next week and is already a grandmother.
Her only child had his first baby a few years ago.
She left Singapore years ago to go learn hairdressing in London and she never came back...  She met Pete the Greek Cypriot and settled in London.

grandson:                    YiaYia  YiaYia  (thats granny in Greek)
Sis:                             Yes Dorian
Dorian the grandson:   Booya motherfucker!!
Sis (trying really hard not to laugh) :  Right!

Pete the Greek Cypriot grew up in London and loves his football (soccer to all the philistines) and Pete tends to get rather excited when watching football especially when his team is playing, and by excited one can safely presume profanities will be uttered ....often.
After the Booya Motherfucker episode little Dorian was told that some words were not nice words to say.

Pete the Greek Cypriot while watching football uttered the word Fuck several times.
Little Dorian got up and sat on his Pappu's (grandfather in Greek) lap, took Pete the Greek Cypriots face in his little hands and said solemnly
"No say Fuck Pappu, No say Fuck"

Awwwww