Shameless self-promotion

I currently am

– knee-deep in a jaw-droppingly gorgeous stash of hand-sculpted lampwork glass beads from Czech, after many miles travelled, many months waited and many, many, MANY dollars spent. Am mushily in love! A very expensive love at that, though;

– going to be one of two main judges on a popular beading challange, one that I’ve participated in a few times in the past;

– asked to write loads of jewellery tutorials for Australian Beading Magazine in their upcoming October and December issues;

– invited to feature in an Artist Profile in said magazine, which includes *gasp* publishing my photos and bio info. Gosh! My mug in a mag! Not sure whether to be stoked or scared, so am being both.

Anyhoo, all boring work-related boast but can hardly contain myself at the mo. Now to get off my derrière and get those projects done before deadline, then dive head-first into abovementioned lampwork beauties.


~nimble fingers~



My dear body,

Thank you a gazillion times for holding up spectacularly through a massively hectic trip, and then a gruelling work load right after. For not getting sick while I was away (although I know at one point you were very close to it), and only collapsing now that everything is over. (ah choo!) Thank you legs for dragging me around for 10-14 hours a day checking all the sights; and arms for dragging the luggage through 6 cities, 5 flights, 3 train trips, and countless walks on cobble-stones. Thanks ears for hearing, eyes for seeing, tongue for tasting, and brain for making it all happen and not getting lost (too often). You guys make such a wondrous team that I am extremely lucky to possess. I promise to look after you better, feed you healthy(er) food, gain back the 3 kilos of you that I lost, and let you dance & exercise a whole lot more. After all, we’ve got that ski trip in just under 3 months, haven’t we? 😉

I love you so much, you tough little nut!


Ageing gracefully. Or not!

I just have to write down this rant in response to a friend’s complaint about losing count of her newly (but obviously not fondly) found grey hair. Because I’ve got the same gripe. When it comes to growing err… less-young, I can handle wrinkles – laugh lines and crow’s feet and whatnots, they’re alright. But grey hair! I really don’t like them. We just don’t click, you know. About a year ago I noticed a few strands sprouting up on my own head. There were not that many and they could still be counted on my fingers, and funnily enough, are always found in the same spots. So consistent are they about their “locations” (must have been blue-chips) that I can track them down and serve them an eviction notice even before they get to an inch in length.

But then. But then last week I got my hair cut really short and holy keratin! There are so many more of the darn things and they are now more visible. Still can’t wrap my head around it. I mean, they just sprung on me like THAT! Poof! There they are. How magical! Like they got together just before my 30th and schemed up an evil plan, nodding their little grey (!) heads to each other, listen up now guys, tomorrow is the day! Zero hour fast approaching! Aaaaand… STRIKE! And so here I am, with what feels like a million of them, fighting for territory. The other day I asked m’ to help me get back at them with a pair of tweezers and she was so distressed, she had to stop after 5 strands. And I was like, What? Why are YOU upset? It’s me who’s going bold here! Keep at it! She must have been seeing her own future. My poor baby!

So well, a few weeks ago I was boasting to some friends, about how being in one’s 30’s feels so much better than one’s 20’s, and that I’ve only been down this road for 3 months and I could already relate to that. Is it ironic, now, if I publish an amendment, that yeah, it’d be so true, if it wasn’t for the stupid party-poopers that are grey hair?

~already more than happy with my pepper, stop sending me salt!~

Soft, white, city people

Mr. Man: Let’s go kayaking down the Murray and then camping in the bush.

Me: Right. What do we do?

Him: We’ll paddle the first day, pitch up a tent for the night. Paddle some more the next day. And they’ll pick us up from where we finish.

Me: But I’m a city girl. An ASIAN city girl at that too. I’ve been in the city all my life, from one continent to another. But always in a city. You know what that entails.

Him: But you love the outdoor. You’ll love this!

Me: The swimming I’m sure I’ll love! The paddling is also fine. Coz you’ll be doing most of it.

Him: Hah? Right.

Me: But the camping. Is that in a camping ground?

Him: Nope. Anywhere we feel like.

Me: Anywhere? Meaning the middle of nowhere?

Him: Yup.

Me (eyes widened): Meaning no toilets, no electricity, no shower?

Him (eye-brow raised): Yup.

Me (starting to squeak): Meaning snakes, insects, spiders?

Him (eyes rolling): Probably.

Me: I’m not going.

A few days later.

Him: So we’re going.

Me: So that’s a statement, not a question? Hmm… But is there any crocodiles? Anything that can bite us in the river?

Him: Nope.

Me: Anything that can bite us on land?

Him: Nope.

Me: You sure?

Him: Well, maybe a snake or a spider. But that’s very unlikely.

Me (eyes narrowed): So do we bring a snake poison kit or whatever it’s called?

Him: No need. I’ve got a knife.

Me (eyes popping out of head): What? You’re gonna chase the snake and kill it with a knife and just leave me there to get high with the poison??

Him (sighs): Nope. Slash the flesh where it’s bitten and the poison will bleed itself out. But we’re only a phone call away from the Kayak store!

Me (fainted!): I’m not going.

Some more days later.

Him: So we’re going!

Me: Maybe.

Him: We can cook camp food. It’s fun.

Me: But what about a shower?

Him: In the river.

Me: Hmm… that would be nice actually. What about toilets?

Him: A hole in the ground.

Me: What? I’m not going.

Him: I’ll let you bring 2 toilet paper rolls.

Me: Alright. How about 4?

Him (speechless)

Anyway, so yes, we’re going. Don’t ask me why. Maybe coz I’M OUT OF MY MIND?? Wish me luck. And while we’re away, get out that SATC episode where Carrie went to the countryside, saw a squirrel up close and freaked out like it was a two-headed monster. Imagine that was me and have yourself a good laugh!

Happy Australia Day!


Back into the swing of things

I haven’t blogged for so long it feels alien to start typing things longer than two sentences again! Well to be fair, I’ve scrambled up some drafts, lots and lots of them staring resentfully at me right now from their dusty corner. I will may get around to them one of these days. 😉 You all know what that means.

Anyhoo, let’s do a quick recap just to oil up my rusty finger joints, shall we? Plus I’m hanging out at work (not working though) waiting to pick m’ up so something to pass the time.

Let’s start with December. This year my birthday month went past in a zip! Turning thirty (THREE-OH! *faints*) wasn’t too scary. Well, that is to say, besides all the panic attacks and depression bouts and hours spent searching for new grey hair and wrinkles, I managed to squeeze in quite a fair bit of partying. If I’m to go down, I’m going down with style, man! Meanwhile, work was gruelling and left me a little numb, and extremely worn out, although one can hardly complain about the sound of the till ringing some much needed dollars.

Then “the boss” (guess who?) decided to give myself a long break. Sticking to my words after the China trip in July, this time there wasn’t any travel plans, no big trips, no small trips, no nothing. Just plain old sitting around on my fat arse, catching up with friends, family, and lots of good books. It was hard at first, like something was amiss (errr, maybe, A TRIP?!). But then my weary brain slowly calmed down and cheered up, my tired body slowly cooled down and perked up, and I ceased to be that neurotic girl with the bloodshot eyes and haggard look who would complain loudly and then follow it with “No i’m NOT complaining, I’m merely stating a fact!”. Of course the fact was that I WAS whinging but let’s not wake a sleeping dog shall we?

Anyhow, it felt so refreshing to be able to read till my eyes hurt, churning through piles of books. Bookworm doing some great binge-reading. It was so damn nice to cook for fun, talk to people for fun, doing things only when I felt like it, generally mucking around.

After the new year m’ and I started a massive spring clean campaign. It really was massive! Actually, still is. Five full days of intensive cleaning, tidying, rearranging furniture, and something slightly resembling gardening, have left our muscles sore but our clutters cleared (both physical and mental). And oh boy, doesn’t it feel wonderful! You guys will soon be invited over for a house re-warming party, to admire our handiwork and grace OUR NEW COUCHES with your lovely backsides! Cue: here is where you chirp in, No shit, did you really? And we’d beam, Oh yes we did!, and then do a little twist. I even made five spanking new cushions to match. Both of us are a little skint right now but seriously, even our eyes were sick of the old lumpy futon. (Our butts have given up long ago.)

So there you go. The last one and a half months in a nut shell. (Quite a big nut this one is, probably a Brazillian.) Will have to get back to writing more often. Fingers are squeaking. Not good.

Great new year to you all! Xox


How my mind works


Me cooking dinner. Frying some radish cake. Impressive, no? Gastronomical equivalent of working out the law of gravity, methinks.

Well, maybe not. But anyway. Do you think I was a/ very bored? b/ having early symptomps of OCD? Or c/ just a very neat person who also happens to be good at geometry?

Or maybe d/ someone who should shut up and get back to work?


Civilised dispute. Or lack of it.

Me (gossipingly): So this friend of mine had a fight with her boy. No, not exactly a fight, more like a little bickering over something quite trivial. Her words.

A. (innocently): Yeah? What would they want to do that for?

Me (matter-of-factly): Well, you know, couples fight. Sometimes.

A. (motioning between us with his forefinger): But we don’t fight. Hmm… actually, you did try a couple of times.

Me (couldn’t help but laugh, not just at the fact, but also his choice of words):True. I’m the fiery one. Thank you, my quirky Piecean.

(I meant that.) 

And then I thought some more about it and he was so damn right. We haven’t had any fights, major or minor. Which maybe I’d just managed to jinx it? Touch wood! Although with me being me, there has been a lot of me sulking at him. The poor sausage. Somehow he calms me. Not always intentionally. But he does.

So maybe we do know how to communicate. Or more like, he does know how to wait out my silent sooks so we can actually talk like two adults. Or maybe, as much as I hate agreeing with horoscope, a water sign really does sooth a fire one.

Or maybe… I don’t know… possibly…  I’ve finally grown up!