It seemed a great idea at that particular instance.
So many of them.
Blocks of cream cheese sitting in the freezer, waiting to meet the blender.
And so I decided to make passionfruit cheesecake.
Made it in the evening and popped it in the fridge.
Next day, I realized with disappointment that it was errr, sludgy. Perhaps I didn’t add enough gelatin. Added more and popped it in again. And of course, it didn’t help much.
I like to think of it as biscuit with passionfruit sauce. Even the ever supportive husband took a bite, squirmed with sourness and gave it a miss. I don’t blame him at all. I think I should have dumped a gallon of sugar to counter the sourness. Maybe juices from nine passionfruits were a little too much?
As you might have guessed, I threw the whole thing away.
When it comes to food, I’ve been brought up as Chinese as one can be. I’ve memories of homecooked Chinese meals every day except for Saturday dinners so that my mum can have a break. I’ve no complains though but it did meant that I had my very first pasta at the ripe old age of 16. I can still recall the experience vaguely. It was in a restaurant along the waterfront at the then World Trade Centre together with a girlfriend’s parents.
Anyway, the nostalgic flashback was due to some awesome fast food masquerading as dinner tonight.
Apple, Ham and Cheese Melts.
Simple to assemble.
Simple to ‘cook’.
And yummy to eat.
I’m sure by now, most would have been aware of Karen Cheng’s call for bone marrow donors. Especially if you are ethnically Chinese.
She wrote about her donation process and if you’re in Singapore, it’s even less complicated than that. In fact it’s so simple that it’s somewhat anti-climatic.
The Bone Marrow Donor Programme has 3 locations where you can sign up to be a donor:
1. BMDP @ Kingly Building
2. Blood Donation Centre @ National University of Singapore
3. SGH Haematology Centre
I went in, told them I wanted to sign up as a bone marrow donor, given a form to fill together with long cotton buds for the buccal swap aka inner cheek swap. One minute on each side and everything’s done.
I think the son was waiting for some fireworks because he was somewhat disbelieving it was over.
The thought that I might actually be able to save another, just by taking this first step, is indeed humbling.
I came across Hope for the Weary Mom while surfing Amazon for mindless fluff to stuff the Kindle. Of course I had to buy it since it was literally calling out for me.
An idea that stayed was the Joy Dare. A simple idea. Each day, find 3 things to be joyful for and at the end of one year, you’ll get 1,000 things. Is it a little too telling that I thought finding 3 joyful things each dat were a little tough for me? Anyway, I’ve decided to take on the dare. Hopefully I’ll get a thousand joyous pictures or at least a few hundred.
Join me in the dare if you’re up for it! Would definitely love the company.
He turned 6.
Without much fanfare this year.
And half of the celebrations were with the little sister in tow. Being the little trooper he is, no complains but rather, he was the one who insisted on celebrating it together (their birthdays fall in the same month) when we suggested otherwise.
When I wanted to write this post, all I had in mind was to grumble and rant. About how difficult he had been of late. Of his seemingly mindless tantrums. His whininess.
Then it struck me. That maybe all he is looking for is just that bit more love and attention.
A bit more time.
A little more figuring out for himself his identity and finding his way around.
And to remember his independence.
His laughter and smile.
His care for the elderly.
And for me to remember that at the heart of it, he’s still my firstborn. My son. And six, an adult in his own eyes but still rightfully a child. A fact that eludes me at times when I expect him to act otherwise.
Blessed birthday, my son. Thank you for being ours, and so precious in our lives.