Soya at Starbucks!

Yup, it's not about the coffee. I had the Chocolate Soy Frappuccino. Finally!! SOYA RULES!!!

Spent a nice afternoon the other day in Starbucks reading Bad Dogs Have More Fun by John Grogan. Ah, my favourite author.

Home Sweet Home

A fantastic weekend back at home in Malacca. Really, there's no place like home. Bless the Sultan of Selangor for having his birthday on a Saturday. =)

Woke up at 7 o'clock this morning. In my opinion, there's no better way to start off such fine morning than bringing my dog, AhGal out for a walk. My sis and Ethan came along too. After we got back, I made us breakfast, fried rice. After that, mom and I went out for grocery shopping in Tesco.

Around 2 o'clock, I started my baking experiments with the recipes I found online. They were the Vegan Chocolate Cake and the Sticky Vegan Cinnamon Roll. Vegan means free of animal products, which means there's no egg or milk used in these recipes. And you know what, they tasted just as good, or even better!

Just wanna share some photos of my hard work of one well-spent afternoon!

The Vegan Chocolate Cake

The Sticky Cinnamon Roll

Without icing

With icing

The same oven ever since I was in primary school. Amazing, except the burnt bulb.

My music- Yiruma =)

The custom-made 'forceps' by grandpa for mom (to remove hot pans from the oven)

The Confession of a Murderer

It was a Sunday morning. The sun was shining high up in the sky, mercilessly scorching every exposed being. There was no chirping birds, not a hint of breeze. The dogs were lazing under the shades, oblivious to the fighting cats in the backstreet. It was a huge neighbourhood, full with selfish city dwellers. Where there are humans, there are tales, brewing. Every turn of corner brings another story, perhaps a boring one, perhaps not. One of such, or rather, a confession, is to be told, by the very murderer.

In the house, among hundreds other, loud music was blasting out from one small room. The vocalist of Paramore was screaming at the top of her lungs. The curtain blocked the sunlight from streaming in through the room's only window, but there was the fluorescent light. In huge contrast to the weather outside, the room was cold at a perfect temperature that one would never want to leave to venture into the roasting oven. It was a simple room, with a wardrobe, a bed, a medium-size mirror, a big white table, rack full of books and files, a fridge and a microwave. A standing fan was left forgotten in the corner. The story began with a crave for popcorn. To be specific, a crave for caramel popcorn. Making popcorn is easy. You grab some popcorn kernels, throw it into a microwave bowl, add in a little oil, cover the bowl and start heating up at high power. Then you wait. For a minute or so, the heat will slowly build up. Then, one by one, the kernels start to pop, accompanied by the wonderful popping sounds, simply music from heaven. Not long after the birth of the first popcorn, the mouth-watering smell of popcorn starts to fill the room. If you don't watch it, it would then turn into the less than appealing burnt smell. Still edible though. When the kernels have done transforming, take the bowl out. It should take less then 5 minutes. You would want to use mittens or a piece of cloth, because the bowl would be blistering hot. With the popcorn done, the next and the last thing to work on is the caramel. (of course, this is the lazy-bug version. The proper way includes coating the popcorn evenly with caramel, then baking it for an hour) Caramel is the melted and browned sugar. Contrary to the simple definition, making caramel is highly dangerous, requiring patience and experience, as it gets burnt easily. A trip to the loo is all it takes to pronounce it a disaster. According to the almighty World Wide Web, what you need to do is to heat up the sugar first, stirring frequently, till it turns brown. Then you need to add in water to dissolve it to the perfect consistency.

Well you might wonder, what does making caramel popcorn have to do with the murder? It most certainly was not the murdering of popcorn. You see, things usually happened at the most unexpected moment. (because if it's expected, then it would have been prevented, thus not 'happened'.) The last step of the whole process, the seemingly harmless act of adding the water, made all the difference. Regardless of the tempered glass, certified microwave-safe, the lid of the microwave bowl (which I used to heat the sugar) cracked at the contact of cold water and the extreme heat of the glass. Just like that. Just like that. It left me gawking, for a couple of seconds. And to top it off, the caramel was burnt.

Much effort for nothing.

Bonus:

The eulogy

The lid, it had served well, it did. Throughout the years, regardless of storms and thunders, it had never failed, surviving through the endless abuse, delivering gourmets and failed attempts. To perish when it was about to make a historical point is most regretted indeed. Rest in peace, and rest assured that, in years to come, you will always be in my heart. No matter how many lids that I shall break in the future, you will always be my number one.

by

The Murderer

I See You

I just had easily the most awesome lunch that I've made myself lately. It's just sandwich actually, and the highlight was lots and lots of vege. =) Wholegrain bread+ Cameron lettuce+ tomato+ bell pepper+ black olives+ sweet corns+ baked beans+ cherry honey tomato+ carrot+ apple. Dressing was splash of apple cider vinegar+ drops of hot pepper sauce+ chili sauce. And some herb flakes and black pepper and margarine spread. Totally vegan and heavenly. If only I could get a big fat onion, it would be perfect. The sweet corns, baked beans, cherry tomato, carrot and apple were just side dishes of course. Couldn't fit them all in between two thin slices of bread. Wanted to make carrot sticks initially, ended up crunching the carrot just as it was. Well, to tell the truth, it is a bit of cheating to say that it's the best lunch that I've made myself lately because I haven't been preparing lunch for myself for quite a while (settled it in the cafeteria at hospital), so there wasn't any comparison to begin with, thus 'easily'. Still, I would say that it's the healthiest thus far.

Thought of writing a post every time after jogging initially, but the last related post was quite some time ago. And now I've given up totally. Guess it's my 'hangat-hangat tahi anak ayam'. Why the 'anak'? Well, in my humble opinion, the chick is much smaller, so I reckon that the stool will be smaller in size too, thus contains lesser heat and requires shorter time for the heat to radiate off it. See, it takes just this much time for my determination to flicker and then, snuffed. As much as the chick's droppings. One thing to be glad is that I still go for regular jogging. =)

Finished 'The Longest Trip Home' earlier today. It's officially one of my favourite books now. John Grogan is simply gifted at telling stories. Not that it's a story, as in fiction. It's a memoir. And I admire his courage to share with the world his embarrassing moments and dirty little secrets. I would not have the guts to do that. Plus, there isn't much to tell of my life. I've been a good kid throughout my life, so good that when I look back, it's simply boring and insignificant by comparison. Not complaining though, just wish that I'd had the courage to do things I'd only contemplated. It's a story unfolding his life from childhood to adulthood, in which his parents play a major part in. Towards the end, like his first book, Marley and Me, it got me crying. He really put his heart and soul into it. There's this particular paragraph among others shortly after his father's death that triggered my lacrimal glands:

"Tim and I had both lived independently for years, but always in the back of our minds we had known our father was there if we needed him. For a loan or career advice or handyman tips or life guidance or a place to move back to if all else failed. No longer. The paternal safety net was officially and permanently cut away. It was our turn now."

I remember few years back (when I was still in high school or freshly out I guess) when mom was hospitalized, dad took me out for dinner before we went to visit mom. It was a food court, brightly lit, noisy and crowded with people. We found a place and we sat down. Dad asked me what I would like to have before walking off to order for the both of us. He was having join pains due to high uric acid level. I remember looking at his slight limping figure, tears threatened to fall, but not quite, realising that dad was getting old, and it would come a day, irrevocably, when he can't be there for me any more. Such realisation reinforced itself again. I was out with my dog for a morning walk, few years back too. We got chased by a stray dog in the neighbourhood. I was pretty sure that the dog was not ill-intentioned, but just to be on the safe side (plus it was scary), I scooped up Ahgal and ran all the way home. Luckily where we were wasn't that far from our house, and dad was just out there. I yelled for dad, and he came to our rescue.

I was extremely grateful that dad was there to protect me, but at the same time it struck me that dad can't be my shelter forever.

I see you. It's a line from a movie.

Currently reading: Haven't decided yet