Monday

golden mile, khong fatt beef noodles, $4.30

It was a good week past. Sunday, wasn’t all great, but even the worst day of this week had its good moments.

Tuesday was good, I had some questions answered and a new perspective received.
“I own that which belongs to Me”

Saturday’s sermon had one tiny sparkle of raw goodness. Sigh… so raw, I can hope to hope again.
“my request (to God light years ago) doesn’t return a void answer... sigh... and after so very, very long”

Sunday, reaction reading can sooth a jaded self-esteem.
“God is good, to me. Unfair? Yea, in my favor”

sigh… (: and better days to come.

Sunday

barley tea "made from six-rowed barley" from muji, $1.90

I remember a large wooden dining table we used to have at home. When folded, it could host 6, when extended it hosted 8 or 10. It’s a common contraption these days; you can get a very similar table at Ikea anytime. But back when I was five or six, it was unique and very interesting – I had to tip-toe to look over the table and I had gotten my fingers caught in the foldable parts more than once.

Most importantly though, at eye level of a five/six year old, there were the cutout letters “t a b l e” stuck jus below the table top. I had a lot of trouble spelling when I was five; I would spell “talbe” or “tebla” instinctively. My mom had placed the letters there; she cut out every letter from coloured paper, stuck adhesive tape to the back of each one and pasted it on the table so that I might spell better. But not jus there, they were also on the chairs, walls, windows, doors and perhaps every other basic household furniture that you would expect a five year old to spell at school.
Back then spelling was a bother to me, I liked the shapes that the letters made, and most times I enjoyed trying to scratch out the letters without breaking them.

I don’t remember if my spelling improved because of them but today, that memory reminds me that I was and still am very loved by my mom.
Have you ever tried cutting out letters on rough, porous coloured paper (the kind that frays at the edges when cut with something blunt) with primitive tools? And after that fold (cos double-sided tape was extravagantly expensive) and attach two pieces of tape on the back of each letter. Finally attaching and reattaching (after your child carefully and continuously scratched the letters out) them onto parts of the house and furniture. It’s tedious! Very laborious! But to my mom, it never once seemed like it was trouble. It's mind bending.

Thus, I have come to the conclusion – a designer can design a house, work out its form, scale and proportions. Have wondrous control over its materials, colour and lighting. Have some expensive, super comfortable, state of the art furnishings. Still design doesn’t turn a house into a home.

But I will.



p.s. muji’s barley tea is crazy. its my fifth week drinking it on a regular basis and its aroma still astounds me. you get more flavour smelling the tea then jus guzzling it down your gullet. gotta smell the aroma, smell it!