girl, uninterrrupted

I haul myself from the pit of self-pity and despair to inform everyone that I'm feeling better, both physically and mentally.

My lurve brought me to her specialist, and although he didn't tell me anything new -- take steroids to control the pain, options include cancer and anti-malarial drugs, alternative therapies may or may not work, try at your own risk, don't mix your Western and Chinese medicine, this is a chronic illness -- the excruciating pain has made up my mind for me.

Even though there are nasty side effects from steroids and stuff, I'm going to abandon TCM -- more than a year of taking those smelly powdered brews which produced little/unreliable results -- and go for ang mohh meds.

Just started on the course of medicine and it knocked me out after lunch. Only just woke up after 10 hours of blissful uninterrupted sleep to realise it is now my real bed time.

And what do I do? Pour myself a giant bowl of cornflakes and dried cranberries -- Breakfast!

pain pain go away

I have been awake for the past 23 hours. I have also been working almost non-stop for that entire time, mainly to distract myself from the pain in my feet. Everytime I try to lie down and nap, the pain is so intense that I have to get up and do some elf work.

Even the most super duper painkillers are not working this time. Even though I've been having this affliction for a couple of years now, this is the worst attack ever. I usually still can catch a couple of hours of sleep before the painkillers wear off, but this is so bad that I'm still up at 4am, even though I'm physically exhausted.

Counting down the hours to morning, so I can go to the doctor. Have popped Panaco and Synflex at 8pm, Codeine at midnight and again at 1am, and two Panadol Extra as a last resort at 3am, but the stabbing pains seem to be getting worse instead of better.

On the up side, I've managed to do a lot in my waking hours:
-- unpack all my boxes
-- rearrange my dressing table
-- sort through my jewellery
-- clean the balcony furniture
-- tie ribbons to 120 tags
-- make breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper
-- draw pattern for dress
-- empty all the trash cans in the house
-- read lots of TWOP
-- watch lots of crap TV

I just want the pain to go away so I can sleep.

barely barley

My mom gave me an 20-year-old never-been-used crockpot. My evil twin enthusiastically shared with me that I could make barley drink in it. Just pop in the barley, sugar and water at night, and presto! Wake up to freshly-made barley drink.

The first time I tried it, the barley was barely cooked after 12 hours on LOW and 6 hours on HIGH. Because I was in a rush, I didn't empty the pot [which was also too hot to touch]. When I returned home two days later, it had fermented into this foamy thingy which smelt horribly rotten.

Being a determined barley drinker, I tried again one week later. After 12 hours on HIGH, I managed to squeeze on some juice.

So I thought the crockpot had decided to stop being temperamental and tried to make oyster sauce chicken. After more than eight hours on HIGH, the chicken was cooked, but strangely, not the carrots or potato. I gave up and returned the crockpot to my mum.

She then decided to give me a mini crockpot, very cute, but basically useless cos could only cook three cups of barley drink. She tested it before giving it to me.

So happy, today, I decided to make barley drink, cos very heaty from too many Ikea chicken wings.

After 12 hours, the drink tasted fine, although a little thick. I drank one cup and poured the rest into two cups and placed them in the fridge.

Three hours later, mysteriously, it had solidified even without the aid of gelatin. I could even pop it out from the mug with a juicy PLOP!

I don't know how I did it, but I had produced barley pudding.

[They were quite yummy, totally barley tasting, just a little too mushy. But no fear, I will perfect the recipe the next time.]

last but not least

For final Fashion Diary entry: Smocked dress with ribbons, the latest design from Swirl

anywhere but here

For a I-can't-believe-I'm-at-work Sunday, followed by a send-off at the airport for my sissy: Knit top from BYS1, brooch from Chinatown, jeans from Giordano

elf attire

No Fashion Diary updates today, cos I was in grotty shorts the whole day at home doing elf work, such as sewing more than 20m of Shantung silk and lace to make curtains.

unknown origins

Forgot to shoot after 12 hours at work, hence resorting to using mirror: brown top and circular striped skirt, both so old I've forgotten where they're from, vintage bag from Barcelona

in the red

For work: red tank and flare skirt from TopShop, vintage polka dot bag from dustbunnyvintage.com

the office

For the office: "Fattish" black top from Hong Kong, tweed city shorts from m)phosis

cone-vulsed with laughter

Thanks, Alfie, for the fashion tip. I will definitely take it into cone-sideration.

week after week

For horrible Tuesday at work: Floral top from Isetan, favourite culottes from Urban Outfitters, string of beads from Chinatown

wet wet wet

For running errands in Chinatown and Arab Street on a rainy day, followed by birthday dinner for dad: Pinstriped jacket from Old Navy, hand-made fabric brooch from small shop in Holland V, new pink tee and new stretchy jeans from Giordano, blue rubber thongs from Muji, giant brown bag from Country Road donkey years ago, orange traffic cone from carpark in West Coast

fashion diary

Remember my food diary? Here comes the fashion diary, inspired by this piece of fluff in Vogue in which women were asked to snap pix of what they wore for two weeks, to analyse their dress sense.


For dinner at Chef Chan's kitchen: Camisole from Giordano, skirt from Chelsea flea market, pink tulle underskirt [not seen] designed by Swirl, belt from the 80s courtesy of my mom, blue beads on wrist from Salvation Army in Williamsburg, charm bracelet borrowed and never returned from Lisa one drunken night, earrings from H&M

i heart london

When London won the bid to host the 2012 Olympics, I didn't give a heck about it.

In fact, I kept mocking the decision, "Did they factor in the weather? They won't be able to play any games cos it's gonna be raining all the time!"

Then the Tube blasts struck. Edgware Road, Russell Square, Liverpool Street. These were all places I was familiar with, and while not quite as near my heart as Bukit Merah or say Holland Village, still I felt a horrible rage and terrible sadness.

lights... camera...

my daily cuppa

I'm no Martin Parr, but since I can't find that pix, here's my own version, taken at 10.34am this morning, when I should have been rushing to work.

ideal room

If only my room could look so orderly. I finally moved in but there's so much more unpacking to do. I wish some elves are working on it now while I'm at work.


And I need a nice vase. But more than that, I need a pretty dustbin.

perfect posture

What I've learnt from purchasing two cheongsams and wearing them both within the space of three days is that it is physically demanding.

You cannot hunch or you'd rip the sleeves.

You have to sit ramrod straight or there'd be unbecoming creases down the front.

You constantly suck in your tummy so as not to ruin its tailored lines.

Sudden movements will cause a button to pop or a seam to rip. So your arms have to move gracefully, languidly. You don't run, you don't walk hurriedly, you don't stride. You have to glide.

Being all lady-like does take a toll. I was exhausted when I finally took the cheongsam off.