Shopping..

I have been going through our Christmas shopping list, which is unusually long this year as we are heading back to Doug's hometown. He has 6 brothers and sisters and 14 nieces and nephews....wait..make that 16..his sibling just remarried. Usually the siblings draw a name each so only one gift has to be bought, but we know from past experience that a majority will buy Sash a gift (beauty of being youngest baby niece..the women in the family cant help themselves from buying cute-sy pink or cuddly stuff). So we suppose we should get each kiddie a small gift considering Doug without fail fails to remember their birthdays, and he has not been back for family Christmas since 2003. I have spent the last few days trying to figure out whether a 12 year old (or is she 14...too late to ask "By the way sweetie, how old are you?") would rather have a doll or a pretty shirt...but what size would a 5'10" 12 year old (or 14..or 11??)wear? Maybe a book? What do teenage girls read nowadays? Can she read?? I am thinking of pleading cultural difference, tell them in Malaysia cash is king, and fork over some hard currency. I have however bought Sasha the most adorable summer dress and a tank top for myself. Did I mention that FIL has heat on full blast in his house (along with remote controlled gas fireplace) so while it will be -30 Celsius outside during Christmas, we will most probably be walking around in our T-shirts inside, as we did last week. Hmm, maybe I should just buy a bunch of T shirts for everyone...wont the 4 year olds love that.

I like this season of giving. Yes, I find that it can be over commercialised and superficial, but then isn't everything what you make of it? What we have to remember is that gifts don't have to be extravagant or expensive to be appreciated, they have to be thoughtful. It is the time spent thinking about what you know about the person you are buying for, his/her likes and dislikes, and finding something that will tickle his/her fancy. It gives me an opportunity to think about someone, to recall a snippet of time spent together or a conversation. Sort of like Thanksgiving...in my own warped way. It is not the cost of something that touches me when I unwrap a present, it is the time spent by the person thinking of what to buy and the time spent purchasing it..or making it. It is of course a given that I will not turn down arbitrarily bought diamonds, but I will as equally appreciate a homemade bookmark..(now, which book is that bookmark in..). So while I whinge about the shopping, I am grateful that I have people in my life to think about fondly as I shop.

On a tangent, I am now a member of a blogging family. My dad has started a blog, and so has my sis. I love the fact that family happenings are just a click away.

On another tangent, we are hosting a brunch this Saturday. Have to learn how to make or figure out where to buy homemade like quiche by Friday night.

On yet another tangent...this world has gone absolutely insane. For fucks sake, it is a fucking teddy bear. Not even a stuffed pig, or dog. A stupid bleeding stuffed bear given one of, if not The most, popular name on this planet. I think that it is not she that should be charged with inciting religious hatred..it should be the stupid people pressing these charges as they are definitely proving yet again to the world how stupendously menacing a few intolerants can be.... For fucks sake...

Toes in...

I have been dipping my toes into the employment market so to speak. I have sent out a few CVs, looked at the classifieds, google searched, looking out for something I might want to do. I have of course applied for positions in business schools/law schools within a 30 minute radius. Was contemplating applying to one 90 minutes away, but as much as I would have liked the position the commute would drive me insane. Thing is, academic positions usually start in in July..and to wait for a chance at a call back in a few months is just too risky. So a hunting I go..

I went for my first interview with a financial services recruiter this afternoon. He was given the mandate to fill a position for a Fund. The job sounded interesting. The interview went very well. He admitted that he found my CV intriguing and my person, well, personable. Only catch..I was over qualified for the job. Yup...I never thought I would hear those words, but I just did..a couple of hours ago. Over qualified. And there I was thinking...but why am I here? So, we spent the next hour discussing what I can do, how I can fit in the Canadian market, and just generally shooting the breeze. We discussed my weakness, which is that I am not a "real" lawyer, and neither am I a true finance person. I am that in-between, with a PhD, moving from another country, and with a rather colourful educational background. He was helpful, and he intends to help me with my quest for employment. Not a great start, but a start nonetheless.

During the interview, he suggested that I look into working with the Ontario government. It seems they need people like me to help in making public policy decisions, providing that bridge between the public and private interest, or rather helping the public not get screwed by the private and their expensive lawyers. Unfortunately government bodies are too cheap to hire head hunters so he could not help me out there. I don't know what to do first, look up the government site or rent the West Wing DVDs..now, if the Ontario policymakers look anything like Rob Lowe..

Postscript: Better luck next time

The Bombers lost. It was close. But close aint gonna get you the Grey Cup ring buddy! On a bright note, we had excellent nosh. Crudites and dip, some cheese concoction with crackers, yummy beef stew and mushrooms wiped up with home made bread, and vanilla ice cream heaped on to a slab of fresh apple pie (apples grown in Aunt H's garden).

It was quite strange watching the Bombers play as the team comprised mainly blacks (although you can say blacks here..but not in the US..well, not anymore). I had to ask Doug and Aunt H whether the players were imported. They believed most were Americans. They asked why I was asking. I told them on my few brief visits here I have yet to see a black (or is it African Canadian?) person. They reassured me there were..but I noticed a glint of uncertainty in their eyes...like they were trying to figure out when they had seen one last. I am sure there must be...about the same number to make up a football team.

Grey Cup: Go Bombers!

Today is the Canadian equivalent of the American Superbowl. They call it the Grey Cup. The Winnipeg Bombers are playing the Saskatchewan team, so suffice it to say it is a BIG DEAL here. Watching Canadian football is right up there with a trip to the dentist for me. Not on par, but up there. Doug's Aunt H has however invited us to a Grey Cup party she is hosting. Doug, Sash and I will be the only guests. FIL's friend is hosting a party at his home in the country. A group of them are going in style, in a stretch limo. I told you it is a big deal here.

Doug spent the morning looking through trash. Sasha has this new thing about helping me out, and that means helping me "clean up". I have been looking for my mobile phone for the past 3 days. Doug has been looking for a speed skating medal that he wants to take home to ours. The trash was the last resort. He spent 10 minutes in the freezing cold going through week old trash. He found both items in the third bag. He has warned FIL that if he has misplaced anything, to just bill him because he is NOT going through the rest of the trash.

Sash loves reading Pooh before her nap..or as she calls him, Pu

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Winnie the Bear as a cub - with an unidentified Canadian soldierWinnipeg (or "Winnie") was the name given to a female black bear that lived at London Zoo from 1915 until her death in 1934.

She was bought as a small cub for $20 (probably from the hunter who had shot her mother) at a stop in White River, Ontario, by Lt Harry Colebourn of The Fort Garry Horse, a Canadian cavalry regiment, en route to the Western Front during the First World War. The bear was smuggled into Britain as an unofficial regimental mascot. Lt. Colebourn, the regiment’s veterinarian named her after his home city of Winnipeg in Manitoba. Before leaving for France, Colebourn left Winnie at London Zoo.

Winnipeg's eventual destination was to be the Assiniboine Park Zoo in Winnipeg, but at the end of the War, Colebourn decided to allow her to remain at the London Zoo, where she was much loved for her playfulness and gentleness. Among her fans was A. A. Milne's son Christopher Robin, who named his own teddy bear “Winnie” - thus giving Winnie-the-Pooh his name.

The story of Winnie the bear has been portrayed in the 2004 movie, A Bear Called Winnie starring Michael Fassbender as Harry Colebourn. A statue of Winnie and Captain Colebourn stands in Assiniboine Park in Winnipeg.

Just another day in the land of Pooh..

FIL is in the kitchen having a chat with the cleaning lady. Sash is down for her nap. I am waiting for lunch. Doug is buying Christmas lights. Just another day in Pooh-land.

Family members have been calling up on a daily basis, concerned about the workload we have taken on taking care of the "cranky patient". We brush off their concerns. Not because we are polite, or want to reassure them that their Dad is in good hands, but because it really isn't much work. We all wake up by 10am, and FIL is just happy with eggs on toast. I suppose when you live alone having company for breakfast is the treat, not the eggs sunny side up. We hang about while Sash goes through her Christmas present stash. Yes, she has found her grandfather's stash and he has, after watching her drag around unopened boxes of whatever noisy toy for days, grudgingly allowed her to open one toy. Did I mention that FIL is a Scot/Canadian therefore somewhat frugal, but loves sales so he stocks up his Christmas presents extremely early. We are quite happy that she has only opened one because the toys we buy her are usually educational, preferably not requiring the use of batteries. We find however the toys she receives from others gobble up batteries and have no volume control...like this one she has just opened which is a Toddler karaoke set which plays 10 songs sung by irritating cartoon characters in disco beat. This one will definitely be left behind when we fly back to Toronto this Monday. FIL bought the darn thing and he is jolly well going to suffer along with the rest of us when she plays with it.

Lunch is soup and toast. Without fail. So it takes me 3 minutes to prepare. Now, if I had a Malay FIL I would probably have to make bubur (rice porridge) or at least curry and veggie to accompany rice. I like this soup in microwave business. Oh yes, and the toast.

I cooked dinner the first few days we were here. Nothing much, steak and potatoes, spaghetti bolognese, that sort of thing. Now that FIL is somewhat on the mend we have eaten out for the past three days. Doug thinks he likes eating out when we are around because he does not get to often enough as he lives alone, and as a rather frugal Scot (I am being nice here. The stories Doug tells me about his Dad's cheapness are legendary) he cannot justify eating out on his own. I think it is because he does not like my cooking. Am I insulted? Hell no. I like eating out. We are going to a nice Thai place tonight. FIL loves the "traditionally Thai" lychee smoothie. He takes pride in his adventurous excursions into ethnic restaurants. It is my responsibility to order the blandest dish on the menu for him.

And then we have breakfast again the next morning...So you see, there really is nothing to it.

It has been snowing here in Winnipeg. So far only a light covering on the ground. I love the fine blanket of "fresh" that such snow brings, hiding the brown grass, the concrete sidewalks and accentuating the tips of the evergreen. I am very content staying indoors with the fire going and hot chocolate on call.

FIL is doing great and in good spirits considering what he has been through. I cannot imagine what it must be like to be in continuous pain, the type of pain that only major surgery can hopefully repair. FIL is an amazing man. I haven't known him for long but I sense in him a strong sense of pride that to him asking for help just signals defeat. I think the physical pain is nothing compared to the pain he feels asking us for help when he needs carry out mundane acts such as pulling up his boxers properly, or plugging in the high tech ice pack for his shoulders (ice water pumped directly into a shoulder pack). Sasha is just having a great time going through "new" drawers and rearranging the knock knacks.

When we arrived on Friday we were informed that FIL's best friend, whom he has known for 70 odd years, passed away. This friend taught Doug how to play the piano, how to fish, and was basically a fixture in the family. The funeral is being held today. I helped FIL type the eulogy and email it to the Reverend. I am again amazed with all that has happened since last Wednesday, he is still in good spirits and only really griping about how user unfriendly his new flat screen HD TV is. and yes, Sasha is really enjoying her cartoons in HD.

Uggs

I did it. A few days ago. I bought my first pair of UGGs. I have never actually wanted to own a pair. Not being a fan, especially after seeing all those Hollywood types wear them in magazines. I mean seriously, shearling boots for Californian weather. But in preparation for my visit to Winnipeg tomorrow I figured I needed proper winter boots, comfortable ones, to keep my little toes intact without looking like I am walking apres ski. I must say that after wearing them for the past few days I can safely say that they are ugly as hell, but by golly are they comfortable. I never want to take them off. Like wearing bedroom slippers, but outside. I want to wear them with shorts in the Summer, they are that comfortable.

I must add that I bought them at a children's shoe store. The kiddie versions are identical to theirm Mummy versions, but 100 dollars cheaper (well, in Canadian dollars at least). I love a bargain.

Weekends..

It has been a normal weekend to ourselves. I have a weekend routine, which has to just has to start with reading the Sunday...I mean...Saturday papers.



In Toronto, the "fun" papers are read on Saturday. Having lived in KL, England, the US and Australia (I could not read the papers in the Netherlands, which was horribly isolating), I have been so accustomed to getting my weekly news round-up along with the latest in lifestyle and arts on Sunday. And yes, I confess..the latest gossip (News of the World cannot be beaten in this regard). It was quite a shock to my weekend routine when I first tried buying the papers on my first Sunday here (huh, why only one paper on sale and why so few sections?). I quickly realised that the Saturday edition was the way to go..but then, what the heck do I do on Sunday? Was Sunday not the day I am to be left alone after breakfast/brunch to devour the news? I was lost for while. But what am I if not resilient and I now cannot fathom why other countries have not caught on to this. I recall of the many times I have been irritated upon reading an article on some sort of goings on in town on Sunday afternoon...at 2pm on the Sunday (I like my long Sunday breakfasts...did I mention?). I also hated reading about a fun whatever that was held on the Saturday...which I obviously missed. I am now clued in on the weekend events in advance..but still in limbo post Sunday pancakes. So what do I do now?

I play with Sash and Doug...



I do the groceries



Or rather, Sash does the groceries



My weekend routine has been changed, for the better I think.

Masak asam..

I have lived away from Malaysia a majority of my life. I was in the US for most of my primary school years, and in Europe for my college and post-graduate education. I think in English and my Bahasa Malaysia is at best conversational (to be honest and with shame, I must admit that my BM is shite and Sasha's will be even shite-er). I call it home instinctively, but my home is now here in Toronto. Will I ever move back to KL? Probably not. Do I want to be there now? No. Do I miss it? Sometimes, terribly. Most times, I dont even think about it.

Today I thought about it. As usual, it is during lunch time when I have to decide whether I should go the extra length and open a can of tuna to make a sandwich or take the road most travelled which is to open a box of Shreddies and have cereal for lunch. So here I am, munching on my cereal, while actually craving for a plate of steaming rice smothered in masak asam pedas ikan with a side of sambal belacan. I swear, I am drooling as I envision this staple lunch of mine in a previous life working on Jalan Sultan Ismail. I usually miss food first. Then I start feeling guilty about not missing family. I recall that the SPM is coming up in a couple of days and my baby sister will be suffering through it. I can imagine the family dinners at this time, when the days events will be dissected, as she tells all at the table that she thinks she did quite well (she usually doesn't but we have to give her credit for self-confidence). I miss those dinners..and the food. And with thought falling on the family, I have to sort out what to do with Sasha's medical emergency forms for her Nursery registration. We have to provide emergency contact details, other than the parent or guardian. We have yet again the problem of asking someone we hardly know to take on this responsibility. If only we had family here...which goes back to my making comparisons with my life now and my life back home, surrounded in a cacoon-like comfort in knowing that there exists a strong support system comprising family and friends. That is what I miss about Malaysia..and ok, the masak asam.

I have spent the past few days down with the flu. We all have. Sasha started with the runny nose from day care, and we just ran with it I guess. Lots of cold and flu medication for us, and none for Sasha. The Canadian government totally banned the sale of cold and flu medication for infants a few weeks ago. Great timing guys! She could not hold down her milk as she would throw up when she coughed (Have you ever done 4 loads of laundry in a day? Not fun..)so it has been diluted apple juice for the past few days. I hate flu season.

On the flip side, we received a package from Nxxx, Cxxxx and Mxxxx this morning. Inside, a gift to look forward to in the Spring. Thanks ever so much. I will be digging their mass graves tomorrow morning.

This morning, I curled up in my fave corner and caught up with the newspapers. All abuzz with Katie Holmes finishing the NYC Marathon, and not to mention Paula Radcliffe holding her 10 month old baby against her "rock hard" abs as she celebrated her victory. Great! Not enough that we are all expected to be back in yummy mummy flat tummy state almost as soon as we leave the hospital bed, now the benchmark is to run a bloody marathon. I mean seriously, unless you are a world class athlete that can get Nike to sponsor babysitters or have Tom Cruise's Black Amex card to pay for nannies galore, how is a normal run of the mill (and lazy to boot) mum supposed to keep up? I am just going to sit here and dwell on this....over a slice of pie.

Pre Sugar High

The weather was glorious yesterday. Brisk but ever so sunny. We took our daily walk..


It took a bit longer than usual with Sash stopping to play with her friends



But finish the walk we did. We got home in time to get her dressed in her costume and ready to hand out the treats



Of course we caught her red handed trying to sample the goodies.



There are candy wrappers all over the house. Not good as my sister in law will be arriving with her daughter for a weekend visit in a couple of hours. Have to figure out what to have for dinner, clean the house and make the beds. Well I guess another York Patty will give the much needed energy boost. Sasha wishes everyone Happy Halloween...now on to Christmas!