Monthly Archive for July, 2006

Don’t be alarmed.

This is one week’s supply of groceries for two people. Please take note of the two kinds of plastic bags.

When unpacked, the insides look a little like this.

Since starting fulltime work, I’ve had no time to get groceries until the weekend. And because I loathe crowds, I wake up very early on Sundays, ensuring there is no one on the aisles to get in my way, and I stockpile for the week.

Unfortunately, I am NOT helped in my endeavour by the fact that I get Western-type products from Safeway and Asian-type products, including certain meats and seafood, from Uwajimaya.

Because of who I am, where I am and whom I’m with, I get a very mixed set of food. Sure, I need my good instant noodles, sauces, recognizable vegetables and Japanese confectionery from the Asian supermarket, but I also need to get the juices, cheeses, deli meats, cornflakes and the occasional tortilla for Jay.

The selection and availability of items are very specific at each store, so my Sundays have turned into a race against the clock.

Depending on which store I go to first, I get what I want and head to the second store, by which time I’m stressed and trying to finish shopping quickly so nothing is melting/spoiling/growing bacteria in my Beetle’s boot.

Inevitably, I always forget something at the second store.

In a perfect world, there would be a single store catering to Asians living in America (who may or may not be married to an American), and who may or may not be indulging in cheese once in a while.

And don’t get me started on toilet paper—which I don’t get from either store.

I’ve been walking to work for a while.

It was sort of a decision that made itself.

I hated traffic. I hated driving. I hated parking.

And working in the heart of downtown meant one thing—traffic, driving and parking under road rage (get the f**k out of my way) conditions.

So walking it was.

I never knew how much I walked until today.

I happily strapped a pedometer (Thanks, bro!) onto my waistband today. Finally, I thought, I would know the exact number of steps I took to work! I would be able to justify the walk! Tell everyone I know how healthy I am!

The answer?

3,335 steps. From front door to office.

I don’t know about you, but that felt wrong. Unless I walked like a shuffling old woman with five steps every meter, there was no way I took that many steps. Or did I?

I always thought it was a relatively easy walk. But that number just confused me. Does that now mean I can consume an extra 3,335 calories?

Pink Vanilla Frosted Cupcake: Here I come.

Aside from the fact that it was 92 degrees outside, Richard Serra looked impatient. And slightly grouchy.

But I liked him.

At the press preview of Seattle Art Museum’s new Sculpture Park, Richard Serra made an appearance to discuss his installation of Wave, one of the few anchor pieces in the yet-to-be-completed park. He spoke of sculpture as a living art, and responding to a journalist’s question about what he thought during the building process, snapped, “I have no time to step back and say, I’m happy. I am focused on finishing the task at hand.”

When you’re this famous, “cantankerous” becomes cute.

I enjoyed his curt commentary of the pieces. I especially liked his shoes.

Why is it that the greatest minds on earth are usually packaged in interesting human beings?

I only knew of his fame, saw his work at the Gagosian, and maybe read that New Yorker profile, so I had no idea what to expect when I saw him in the flesh.

I admire his obvious passion for what he does and envy his ability to pursue it single-mindedly.

When I get to his age, I want to be called cantankerous…and in a good way.

Calling all Singaporeans! Does this sign (photographed on a Seattle street I rarely walk down) not tell you that:

(a) This company is from Singapore.

(b) This company is owned by a woman…

(c) …who may have attended Raffles Girls’ School?

(d) Alternatively, it could be owned by a man who attended RI and simply loves RGS girls?

Or, perhaps I’m just reading too much into the Merlion. Someone put me out of my paranoia. *

* Too bad it was closed, so I had no way of strolling in and overhearing Singlish.

Ah, the brevity of life.