My dorky side

I can’t decide whether I have been most foolish or hopelessly optimistic – nonetheless it does allow me to post a pic of me in my new dress. Haw haw.

I was out shopping with the girls the other day and I spot this dress hanging behind a door in a most unlikely shop in some shadowy alleyway. I fall in love with it. They don’t have my size. It was 3 sizes too big! I hassle the shopkeeper to call their stockist. No luck. So I bought it anyway. Thinking, I know how to use a sewing machine! There I am, way past my bedtime, third night in a row, fiddling with threads and elastics, trying to make the dress fit. And it’s still too big. Damn, no new dress for Chinese New Year. Ugh, I’m impossible sometimes.

Gong Xi Fa Cai!!!

Haha we had such a fun Chinese New Year!!

Our reunion dinner was at my grandmother’s house. 30+ people. 3 tables. 4 steamboats. So much delicious food!! Then we spent the rest of the evening running around the garden like lunatics playing dodge ball with the little kids.

The next evening, we went to a Chinese New Year Ball. This year my dad organised two CNY events – a glitzy grand one for 1200 people (next week), and a more uh, kampong-styled one this week. It was still pretty well attended. 400-500 people I think? And 5 lions!

It was a plastic plate dinner, Chinese tea in styrofoam cups, live cover band, Chinese singing performances, door prizes, line dancing, and the function hall was still decorated with Christmas tinsel. Haha. Basically it was a big party, and my husband and I were really over-dressed!

My aunties asked me to “help out”, so I ended up serving platters of rice and food. I discovered that I suck at being a waitress. I was sloshing the sauces, slipping on the dance floor, bumping into people, stopping to chat to people I haven’t seen in ages, forgetting which tables I had already served. Ha, luckily I wasn’t getting paid.

Andrew snapped a funny pic of me on the dance floor, looking very jolly and unsure, amidst the line dancers, dancing to Dancing Queen. Hehe, we had a great time.

It’s Australia Day! And guess what?!?

Photograph by Geoff Wise

My dad was awarded a Medal of the Order of Australia!!
A medal!! Order of Australia!! He’s an OAM!! For his services to the Christmas Island and Chinese community in Australia. He’s on the Australia Day Honours List!! A MEDAL!! Whoa!

According to the Honours website, “Australian honours recognise and celebrate outstanding achievements and contributions of extraordinary Australians”.

And he’s 4 ranks away from being a KNIGHT! Haha. Ok not really. When he told us, he invited the whole family around for dinner, told us “I’ve got a secret!”, even tried to set up the speaker phone with my sister in Japan. And then he started with his jokes, “Ok I expect you guys to show me a bit more respect now!” waving his hand at us. “Hey maybe I should make you guys bow before you come into the house. Or salute! Oh. And you have to call me Sir from now on.” Hahaha.

Today, my dad’s throwing a big party in his backyard. Roasted pig. Live band. 100 of his closest friends. Kids in the swimming pool. Tables and tables of food. Ah, what a wonderful way to spend Australia Day.

(The gorgeous photograph of the wattle was taken by Geoff Wise.)

Channel surfing

One minute. We’re watching ads for dvd players, sanitary products, Canadian beer and reality tv shows.

Next minute. News story. Story of mother, dad, two kids. Holidaying in Indonesia. Swimming in a pool. Dad goes back to the hotel to grab something. Tsunami hits. Mother grabs two kids. Can’t stay afloat. Has to decide which child to let go of. Lets go of the 5 year old….

And then I’m bawling my eyes out.  Sobbing. Can’t stop the tears. Uncontrollable torrent of snot.

And then Callum (my 2.5yo) pops his head into the room and says “What’s wrong mum?”

And I say “Oh… nothing.”

And he says “Ok!” and disappears to play with his toys.


Isn’t this gorgeous? Lovingly created by my artistic husband.

He calls it : Look what happens when you rip 20 year old shag pile carpet off the lounge room floor, then spend the next few days scraping the foam underlay, which has fused to the concrete, with a garden spade.

I love my husband. But I hate house renovations.