Monthly Archive for August, 2005

Truely a question for the bored and jetlagged. Let me count the ways.

(1) America has one giant Bush.
Singapore has thousands, if not millions of bushes. Some say even more than Johor.
Continue reading ‘Is The Grass Greener On The Other Side?’

Especially one as cute as this? And with food stored in his mouth like a nervous chipmunk facing its first winter? (My advance apologies to scientists. I have no idea if chipmunks actually face winter. The only one I know wears a red tee and is called Alvin.)

So I’m home visiting the family, and trying desperately to re-connect with two adorable nephews. The three-year-old calls me Auntie Dot, the other (seen here) just grunts when he sees me. If only adults could see the thought processes of babies.

What the hell is he thinking as he looks at me?

Baby: “Who is this strange large person blocking my view of Ernie on TV?”
Auntie Dot: “Zachary, oh Zachary! Look over here. You. Are. So. Cute.
Continue reading ‘What, Exactly, Do You Say To A Baby?’

You know Singapore Airlines spoils you terribly. The pretty girls, the pretty smiles, the better-than-usual food, the definitely better-than-usual in-flight entertainment. The price tag is pretty too, but that’s another story.

“Flying the Friendly Skies” with United Airlines (their motto, not mine), is much like gambling. You never know what card you’re being dealt until you board the plane.

Continue reading ‘Flying The Friendly Skies’

Our floor is done. Well, sort of. Close enough. Just something called the “baseboard” left to do. I am so happy it’s unbelievable. The neighbors don’t hate us anymore. No more sawdust and loud banging all day long.

Want to see what crazy people do after the floor is installed?

And more unbelievable stuff to be seen to be believed: Dot using a Miter Saw. Yes, you saw it here first.

Would you believe me? I have spent the past week doing 12-hour days of physical work. And it won’t let up until I get to Singapore and have two weeks off. (Poor Jay will have to do all this alone.)

I have renewed respect for construction workers and suddenly, I know why it’s such a cliche that construction workers drink beer after a hard day’s work. I find myself reaching for a cold one, or at least thinking of reaching for one, at the end of the day.
Continue reading ‘If I said I was exhausted…’