I'm so thrilled that I don't know how to begin this! Let me try anyhow...

My mom has always been supportive of her children's endeavors - be it our passion, our hobbies or our work. She will try her best to understand the IT lingo that my bro and I toss around during table-talks, the church terminologies and the ministries that I'm involved in and most of all, my writings.

She knows that I have a website of my own. She was very cool about it and did not lambast me for putting personal stuff for all and sundry to see. In fact, she wanted to read my writings especially after I told her that I blog about happenings in the family, too. "Next time when I go upstairs, let me have a look at your website, ya?" she would remind me. But since we spend more time together downstairs rather than up, she didn't get to see my blog.

It was only after I wrote How to Treat a Damsel in Distress that I finally printed the entry out for her. I wanted so badly for her to read it. I wanted her to know how much I appreciate her. After giving her the printout, I fled upstairs but not before noting that she looked so happy because she could finally read what I wrote about her.

After a while, my brother came upstairs. "Mummy cried a little when she read your article. And she wants to say something to you," he said. Mummy cried?? Oh, my... She was having her shower then and so, I kept on egging my brother to spill the beans but the guy simply refused to do so. "Sis, she told me not to tell you anything more. You need to ask her yourself." Gosh, how I hate being kept in suspense!

Finally, she was done with her shower and I asked her, "Mom, what do you think of what I wrote? And what is it that you wanted to tell me?"

She gave me a beatific smile, "You write so wonderfully. I didn't know how good your writing is until I read this. And... and... I never realised that you really loved me until I read this article."

My jaw dropped open, "But Mummy, didn't I tell you that I love you before this?"

"Yes, you did but... it just didn't sink in until I read this," she said quietly. "I'm very glad you printed this out for me."

She hugged me tightly before ambling off, "I'm going to show this to your father and tell him, 'See, our daughter has written something so nice about me!'"

I guess dad must have been impressed by what I wrote that he asked me to write for the NST's Father's Day contest this year. And as what I mentioned in A Dream Fulfilled, I told my dad that I couldn't think of anything nice to write about him. What an example of a good daughter, eh?

A day after I blogged about 'A Dream Fulfilled', some of you guys encouraged me to go ahead and tell my dad those three words face to face. I pondered on the best way to go about it and then thought of using what I wrote to pave the way. I printed that article out and gave it to my mom to see. She was thrilled and said, "He's gonna love this!" So I asked her to let him read it when she thinks the timing is appropriate.

The few days that passed by afterwards were kind of awkward on my side. I kept imagining my dad looking at me in a different way after that. I kept wondering if he liked the article or hated it or what?? When I asked my mom about it two days ago, she said that she hasn't found the opportunity to let him read it yet. I felt rather relieved and said that she can take her time.

Yesterday, I came home rather late and hoped that my dad was already asleep. He always believes that all good men (and women) should be at home before midnight and likes to remind us of it when we come back late. Lo and behold, my dad was the one who opened the door for me. But he seemed to be in a good mood and did not lecture me about coming home late. Now, that's strange...

I went to the dining hall where the familiar sight of my mother and brother eating their fruits and talking greeted me. Upon seeing me, my mom started to behave like a spy - she dropped her fruit and tip-toed about, her eyes darting furtively around and telling me that she has something to tell me but it can only be said when Papa is safely asleep.

Again, the suspense nearly killed me but I had no other choice but to wait until she stopped acting like a spy.

After she was satisfied that he was indeed asleep, she finally told me that she made him read my article that afternoon when he asked her for some reading materials.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously.

"Read it, it's about you," she said.

Puzzled, he read a few sentences, "No, I don't see anything about me here."

"Keep on reading, you'll see," she said firmly and pretended to disappear with the full intention of peeking at him while he was reading. And she noted the following actions:

Last month

"So, do you think I have leadership qualities?"

Jennifer pursed her lips after I shot her the question, probably pondering on what's the best way to tell me what she thinks. Finally, the diplomatic girl said, "I think everyone can be a leader. The question is to what scale they can lead."

I nodded as it was a confirmation of something I felt, "The ones with the gift of leadership will be able to lead exceedingly well on a bigger scale and find joy in it."

"Yes!" Jennifer grinned in relief. "In that sense, I'm like you, too. Leading a cell group is alright with me but I'd feel too stressed out leading bigger groups."

"Ouch," I said with a grin. "I guess I asked for it!" And we both burst out laughing.

This month

Junia: I personally think that not everyone must go through the church's leadership ranks. People still need to be ministered to. I believe there should be a team to encourage or minister to the tired or weary. Not just cell leaders, zone leaders and pastors should be doing the counselling only.

A slightly more dicerned me: Yes, when you are serving God in your own way and find joy in that, there really is no need to put a Cell Leader tag to it. Frankly, I don't see myself as a Zone Leader or Pastor. I prefer to be at the grass roots level - touching people personally rather than managing cell groups.

Junia: Yeah, I also think you don't fit that frame either. Same here.

Me: *No more ouches* Yeah, we'll be too stressed out at that level of leadership - no joy and no gifting!

Not Long After That

Rick: Thanks for your advice! You are truly a specialist in matters of the heart!
Me (trying to be modest but failing miserably): Aaah, what to do? I am Dr. Love after all :-D

Conclusion

My gifting = Dr. Love NOT big-scale leadership

:-)

...was a blast! A total of 17 book lovers turned up. One thing's for sure, book lovers are definitely not the quiet, mousy types. There were shrieks of laughter, endless chatter and lots of animated faces around especially revolving around our favourite topic - BOOKS.

Caught up with pals like Zarina, Tim and Azwan and met Hathyia for the first time. She's really cool and shares the same literary interests as I. I am ashamed to admit this but through her, I found out that I'm a chick-lit fan :( There goes my hope of having a higher literary mind. Ah well, it's not the end of the world and I can't wait to swap some chick-lits with her... hee!

Swapped some books and got loads more in return - thanks a mil, you guys! What a feast for my mind! Not satisfied with just feeding our brains, AuntyJo treated us to some heavenly A&W waffles and ice-cream to feed our stomachs. Thanks, AuntyJo!

Now, to find the time to devour all those books... :)

Five of us sat around the table in Helen's dining room. Everyone else had gone home after the cell meeting and supper was over. But we felt that the night was still young. We were dying for some sort of culinary adventure.

David was the first to venture out where no one has ever been before. He poured a generous glob of Hershey's chocolate syrup all over his gula melaka-flavoured jelly and put the whole mess into his mouth. His sister Rina and I stared at him in horror. Chocolate on jelly? Isn't that the weirdest thing?

"How was it? Ok ah?" we queried him.

"It was goooood....", he sighed in utter satisfaction and quickly concocted another glob of jelly soaked in chocolate syrup and popped it into his mouth.

Rina needed no further encouragement and did the same and had the same look of bliss on her face. It took the less adventurous me a wee bit longer but in the end, I succumbed to the temptation.

All I could taste was the chocolate, really. The gula melaka taste was drowned out completely. But it was really darn good chocolate and thus, I looked satiated myself.

Adelle and her mother Helen looked at us curiously but dared not try it for themselves. Helen was happy that her Hershey's were being put to good use.

Well, that bit of adventure was over and done with. What do we do next?

Adelle suggested we mix the choc syrup with milk and the idea was eagerly agreed upon.

David and Rina kept on egging Adelle to add more syrup into the milk.

"Look, it says here on the label that two tablespoons of that syrup contains 100 calories. You've got to stop pouring it in, Adelle, " I protested.

"It's ok, I'll work out tomorrow," Rina fended off my feeble protests.

You mean, I'll have to work out like mad the next day, I thought forlornly. But I soon forgot my woes when we tasted the concoction and declared that it was good.

"Wait, I have a bottle of Bailey's! Let's add it to the chocolate milk for kicks," Helen said and jumped out of her chair.

We each gravely held out the tablespoon and receive a dose Bailey's medication and stirred it solemnly into our cups. We took very small sips to make it last longer. Our eyes were glazed in absolute ecstasy.

Aaah... if that's not a piece heaven, I don't know what is. Trust Helen and Adelle to give their best to make their guests feel like kings. Looking at the late hour, we decided to call it a day. We left their comfortable home with a little piece of heaven still tingling in our taste buds.

Reading this article in Boundless made me realise that it's perfectly ok if I feel uncomfortable sharing intimate things with people I don't really know or can't click with.

I joined a cell group once because of a close friend but I still couldn't gel with the rest of the cell group members. There was just no connection and I still felt like a guest even after almost a year. They are actually nice and hospitable people and it baffles me why a normally socialable and open person like me couldn't feel comfortable with them. Chalk this up to one of the many mysteries of life.

When I started attending another cell group closer to my town, it was such a contrasting experience. I felt at home right at from the start and started to share honestly and openly with them that first night. They were kindred spirits - the kind that Anne Shirley of Green Gables had with her best friend, Diana Barry.

Between the two extremes, there are other communities which took more than one meeting for us to warm up to each other before feeling comfortable to share. I think the blogging community is one of those which I took some time to feel comfortable with before sharing my thoughts without too much of a self-imposed censorship. I blog primarily to keep in touch with friends and ex-colleagues. Later on, the circle included other friendly bloggers and people who share the same interests. Those who don't would gracefully take their leave (with the exception of trolls who blast their abuse before scooting off). And that's perfectly ok (nope, I don't approve of trollish behavior), because communities cannot be forced or cajoled. They should be allowed to evolve naturally.

While it's true that no man is an island and we need to belong to a community - the primary one being our family - we are not anti-social if we take some time before feeling comfortable to share or feel totally unconnected with the bunch of people we are with. We don't have to force ourselves to like someone but we can choose to just accept them for who they are and move on. And when God blesses us with people who are kindred spirits, it will be such an awesome experience.

On the way home yesterday, the Lord suddenly dropped this thought into my heart and mind. It was the story about my dad and the death of his dreams. It was something that I heard a few times before but never pondered much upon.

I pictured this handsome and strong young man eagerly dashing off to the airport to catch his flight to Australia. Everything had been done and he was all set to pursue his degree in Accountancy in Aussieland. He walked eagerly to the counter and beamed a huge smile at the staff behind the check-in counter.

"Passport and tickets please," the person said.

As he reached into his pockets, his face turned pale. After going through every single pocket on his clothings and luggages, it confirmed his worst fears - he had left his passport at home!

He managed a tremulous smile at the counter staff and said that he'll be back with his passport and made a mad dash back home.

His father was very angry at the boy's forgetfulness and forbade him to leave home that day. "If you can be so careless in leaving your passport behind, you must not be serious about your studies. I'm not going to support your studies anymore," was the reason given.

My dad never came back to the airport that day. His dream died because his father killed it.

Or so we thought.

Many, many years later, my dad came back to the same airport. He was about to send his daughter - the only one among his children blessed enough to pursue her studies overseas in Australia. She could see the tears behind his eyes which he managed to control. She felt touched by his love, unspoken, but so strongly felt. He shook her hand and patted her shoulder awkwardly and told her to take care and that he will write regularly. She nodded and blinked back some tears and then she was gone. That tearful moment soon passed and gave way to more exhilirating feelings of being airborne and going so far away for the first time in her life.

She never knew what the tears behind her father's eyes truly meant.

Until yesterday when she was driving back home from work.

Then she noticed that tears were streaming down her cheeks. This was the same girl who jokingly told her father that she couldn't think of anything nice to write about him for the Father's Day contest this year because he was so stern all the time. He was always reminding her to bring important documents with her before she goes out for appointments. And always reminding her to bring her passport to whenever she goes overseas. "Why can't you just loosen up, Papa?" she would say.

Somehow, she sensed the Lord telling her not to be sad because her dad's dreams were fulfilled through her. It also reflected without a shadow of a doubt, of his fatherly love for her.

"I love you, Papa," she whispered and smiled through her tears. Someday soon, she will find the courage to say that to him face to face.

We celebrated one of our boss's birthday today, which coincides with my first day back to work. The white chocolate cake called 'Fair Lady' (I think!) was delicious and he was quite touched by our birthday 'suprise'.

"You know, I don't feel like 40 at all. It seems just like yesterday when I came out of Form Five!" he mused.

"That's the problem with having such a good memory!" Mike glibly said.

Everyone stifled their giggles while my boss laughed out loud. We KNOW how good his memory is. He never forgets a thing - big or small.

And as usual Mike had the last word.

Scout's a lucky girl. She had Atticus as her dad. Initially, I didn't quite warm up to Atticus Finch. He seemed like an absentee father. A devoted lawyer, he's hardly around at home. And even when he's at home, he always had his nose stuck in the newspaper. He even let his kids call him by his first name!

He was a good man - there was no doubt about that. He managed to raise his kids as a single parent with nary a sweat. The amazing part was getting them to obey him (or at least try to!) without resorting to corporal punishment. They seemed very aversed in disappointing him.

As the story goes along, the real man behind the cool, unperturbed Atticus Finch is slowly unfolded. He was definitely not a distant father. Scout always runs to him to bury her tear-filled face into his chest whenever she was distraught, confused - even when she was angry at him. He never laughed at them but always talked to them respectfully and courteously. I think the best compliment I ever heard said of a parent came from Scout's mouth. "Oh, Atticus is the same in court and at home." As if that was a perfectly natural thing for a parent to do.

Through his life example, his children learned the precious lessons of long-suffering, a big non-judgemental heart to overlook offenses from others by putting one's self into their shoes and that standing firm for what is right doesn't mean hating those who don't think the same. He also made them feel accepted and affirmed for being just who they were, so they were not bothered when people insult them personally because they know that only what their wise father thinks matters. And he never lies to them.

And the sweetest thing was Scout's reflection when her friend, Dill explained that he ran away from home because he felt that he was not needed at home. Scout said that it was a rather unbelievable thing to happen to a child because she always felt that Atticus needed to hear her opinion on some issue on a daily basis. Why, he simply couldn't function without her!

I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at the statement. How does a middle-aged father need a 9-year old daughter's opinions on human rights issue, politics and daily decision-making?

The same way our heavenly Father needs us.

Ah, I see. Atticus could very well function on his own, but he loved Scout so much and made a big room for her in his heart and life. Even though he was the one who clothed, feed and educate her, he needed the little tyke to be part of his life. She was the apple of his eye.

I'm very glad to report that this book has a happy ending. So no worries about who will tear this loving family apart. This classic of a book revealed the essence which maketh a good man - he is one who is true to God, his family, society and himself. He is one who treats everyone with the same respect and courtesy because everyone is equal in God's sight.

Finally, finally, finally! The cast is taken away and I'm now free as a bird. Hallelujah!

Guess where I dashed off to first thing this afternoon after coming home from the hospital?

Popular & MPH bookstores at Jaya Jusco :-D

Man, it was like heaven to a parched soul. Nothing like beholding and browsing through stacks and stacks of books. Very different from the online shopping experience. I was so happy to find two Agatha Christie books which I have been eyeing for a long time being sold at Popular for RM12.90 each (rather cheap!). The first is 'The Mousetrap and Selected Plays' and the second is her very entertaining archaeological memoir 'Come, Tell Me How You Live'.

After that, I shopped for some clothes and was glad to note that I didn't really put on much weight since stopping my workouts because of my immobile leg. I really did lose a dress size after working out for 2 months and the effects are still there. Am very, very delighted!

To those who prayed for my leg to heal speedily, you have my heartfelt thanks :)

... to the Carnival today. Heard it went well though... hurray :)

My ankle was a hurting a little and I didn't want to put further pressure on it today. So I decided to give it a miss. And thus, the photos of the bullock cart will be sourced and posted much later than I promised.

Tomorrow my ankle will be X-rayed and if the bones have mended fully, I'll be officially mobile. I really hope I will be. After two weeks of being stucked at home, it will be a nice change.

Am keeping those fingers crossed!

Mr. Bobby Chew - The King of Slogans sounds awfully like my folks. As far as I can recall, my folks have always been preoccupied with winning contests. More often than not, those competitions always entail writing witty slogans.

Their enthusiasm in writing slogans spilled over to my 2nd sis and I when we were growing up. Sis and I will eagerly scan our newspapers and magazines for noteworthy competitions and the publications will bear rectangular holes in no time at all.

Like Mr. Bobby Chew, our family's current AV set, microwave oven, and several free holidays are singlehandedly won by my folks through contests. As for me, my measly winnings include 4 bottles of Sparkling Ribena and some free Nokia Starlight movie ticket passes. You can bet that I soon lost the enthusiasm in joining competitions... heh.

When I told my family about Bobby Chew, my bro and I recalled a cute slogan my mom penned for a Jacob's biscuit contest. You guys are lucky to be part of this family 'secret'. Mom will be mortified to know that it's posted in the net for all to see. Here goes:

I love Jacob's biscuits because... they are so digestive that I give them to all my relatives!

And no, my family didn't win that particular contest ;)

When I was in primary and secondary school, I used to write oodles and oodles of letters - each averaging 12 pages at least. Needless to say, it played a vital role in improving my penmanship.

Nowadays, with the advent of computers and all things online, our youngsters have not much avenue to practice and improve upon their handwriting skills. It is no wonder when I see most of their handwritings resembling those of primary school kids.

Things like cursive writing are flung to the winds. And books can be written about the abbreviations that are so prevalent these days thanks to the rising trend of SMS and instant messaging. BTW, it's something that I'm also guilty of using *sheepish grin*

I'm also guilty of not penning as much missives as I used to back then. Perhaps it's because the satisfaction of pecking away on the keyboard is not the same as labouriously writing in cursive and inserting vital decorations like heart shapes and grinning faces in pigtails in appropriate places.

Like it or not, I have joined the throng of modern-day keyboard peckers and abbreviation users in the name of convenience. Still, would be good for penmanship's sake if us keyboard peckers actually take pride in writing manually in our best handwriting, and finding occasions for us to do so. A hard copy card instead of an e-card perhaps? Or maybe a lovely letter to accompany your gift to a love one instead of a brief note? A snail mail instead of an e-mail to your friend overseas - minus the abbreviations and the other what-nots?

The possibilities are endless!

Ttfn :)

A Mr. Woo read about our Carnival in one of our local papers and called me last night. He generously offered the use of his famous first-of-its-kind Malaysian motorized bullock cart for free.

"It's guaranteed to be a crowd puller as can be attested by the many shows I bring it to," he said. "Would you have a space for it on your Carnival grounds?" Would I? But of course!

As he enthusiastically regaled the features of his handmade bullock cart, I was amazed and touched by his passion and dedication to promote our rich heritage and culture to the public.

Will post pics of it in all its glory after this weekend. My pals are preparing a wheelchair for me so that I can move comfortably on the Carnival. Now, I don't have to miss out on all the fun, activities and games :) Bless their souls!

How do you know if you are content? Possible signs include:

gal.li.mau.fry (Noun). Mixed, hodgepodge.

Usage: Since being riddled with a fractured ankle, I am awashed with a gallimaufry of feelings.

On one hand, it's an unexpected blessing to be resting at home for two whole weeks. Plenty of time to seek the Lord, catch up on my reading and keyboard practice, and to actually sit still and think. Nearly completed my reading of a Julia Quinn romance novel and it inspired me to put a new word to start off today's blog entry.

But on the other hand, it's utterly frustrating to lose my independence in going places. My list of things to do and places to see after I am healed is increasing by the day. I envy those of you who can walk on both legs without the aid of a crutch. After changing my Plaster of Paris (POP) for the second time, I have to be very careful not to put pressure on my left leg. POPs are not meant to carry much weight and they break if you walk on them for a while. I have to think thrice before going downstairs for a drink of water. I also need to make sure I have gotten whatever I wanted, to minimise making round trips back to get something I've forgotten.

But then again, on the bright side of things, it's nice to have my friends dote over me and sign their unique autographs on my POP. Irene and Emmy came over yesterday and we spent a pleasant afternoon yakking, watching a DVD and pounding on the keyboard.

My parents are pampering me like crazy. I can really get quite used to this, I can. Will enjoy it while it lasts. But I still look forward to 19th July when my POP comes off. Hopefully, my bones would have mended fully by then.

Part 7: The Mysterious Whistler

Continuation from:
1. The First Engagement
2. Old Clear-Oof to the Rescue
3. Dog Tricks
4. Serving God, Queen and Country
5. Vern's Dilemma
6. Betty's Woes


"Tweeet-ti-ti-tweet-tooo!" A sharp, piercing sound floated into the garden.

The three men cocked their ears simultaneously at that and held their breaths.

"Tweeet-ti-ti-tweet-tooo!" The sound came again, this time, slightly fainter.

Larrie and Vern glanced excitedly at each other, their recent vendetta forgotten for the moment. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Larrie asked.

Vern nodded briskly, "There's no mistake in who the whistler might be. I say we trail and nab him, Sir."

"Who would have thought he would appear here, in Peterswoon of all places!" Larrie shook his head. "But let's hurry before he disappears."

He turned to Fattie who must have been puzzled with his conversation with Vern, to excuse themselves, but Fattie was gone.

"Whoa, he disappeared into thin air!" Larrie said in surprise.

"Maybe he snucked off to talk to Betty," Vern said darkly.

Larrie was already trotting towards the garden gate, "Come on, Vern. We can't afford to let the Whistler slip out of our hands again. Keep your wits and focus about you and don't waste them on Fattie. C'mon!"

With that, the two men rushed out of the garden in hot pursuit of the strange whistler.

Normally not a fan of short stories, this book is suprisingly engrossing to me. It did take me longer than usual to complete it (as compared to the speed I devour a novel) but it was very intriguing with the stories ending (as the title suggests) unexpectedly.

Again and again, Dahl masterfully painted the picture of the dark and depraved side of humanity in a most realistic and unassuming manner. His protagonists are mostly real, ordinary and even likeable characters. I find that I could empathise with most of them and could understand why they did the unexpected things that they do. Yes, even for Edward who discarded a cat in the most barbaric manner. Almost sacriligeous to hear a cat lover say that, eh? Ah well, blame it on Dahl for making their tales so compelling that you feel for them.

One thing which repeats over and over again is his description of couples who have been married for a long time. Most of them take each other for granted and when they call each other 'dear', they don't seem to mean it but it's more like a habit. I wonder if it's true for every couple whose been married for decades. Hmmm...

In The Way Up to Heaven, the husband displayed a most perverse pleasure in making his wife's most horrible fear come true. It was difficult to stomach the anxiety that she went through and I was glad when the wife finally gained a backbone. But of course, this being an unexpected tale with a twist in the end, it was a shock to read of what actually happened to the horrid hubby.

If you are looking for something short to occupy your mind, then this is the book to read. It may make you a wee bit suspicious of the normally peaceful and placid people around you, but hey, it's worth it ;)

Day #1 - Oh, the pain, the pain whenever she moves me! Wait, hang on... ewww! What's this slimy white stuff being shlapped on to me? And the bandage? Oh, noooo.... I'm about to be mummified! Help! Mmmmpphh....!

Day #2 - Hmmmph, heard that I won't be seeing daylight for the next couple of weeks. Am going to miss the attention to my creamy white skin. At least the pain has abated with the cast absorbing all the pressure.

Day #3 - Man, when she walks, she does try to speed things up, doesn't she? Hello, madam? I'm supposed to be resting and pampered. Her mom lectured her to keeping her trips downstairs to the minimum and to cut out on going out altogether. Good! About time someone speaks some sense to her.

I heard her laughing when the carnival organiser called up to recruit her in the football team, saying that I will be a great asset in kicking the ball - making it go where no ball has ever gone before. I hope he was joking. Where's the hotline number for leg abuse?

Oh no, she managed to cajole her folks into letting her go out twice this week and her friends - those cohorts of hers - are willing to drive her out and keep her walking to a minimum.

Still, that's something to look forward to. I'm not reeeally in pain anymore. And it'll be good to have them sign their autographs on me. All that attention can't be bad. It'll even help in the healing process. I'm sure of it ;)

Oh, my! Couldn't resist posting this cute poem by Kat and a list of benefits of having a leg in cast by Jude. Enjoy!

Kat's poem on our meetup tomorrow where it's my turn to be on the 'hot seat' (everyone can ask me anything they like!). She's also our nasi lemak and coffee supplier:

Ikan bilis mau, cucumber juga tambah,
Aik Cheong mau kah?
Atau sendiri ada?
Ini memang sudah lebih
Tapi apa mau kata?
Sudah jadi nasib gua
Untuk jadi supplier!
Hari Rabu jumpa
Kita makan dan "grilling" YT sama, sama!

Jude's list of 10 advantages of having a leg in cast:

1) nice 'boots'..latest fashion................
2) no need to wear shoes.......so covered up......now airy.....no smelly feet
3) can show off your toes....painted of course
4) leg wouldn't be dry as not exposed to sun and wind
5) leg become fairer.........not need to bleach.,....like mike jackson
6) excuse not to do housework or clean your room
7) can manja manja bapa lor
8) gets lots of get well soon cards
9) lots of attention thro sms, emails
10) no need to kerja, dapat duit lor............boleh save $........upgrade your mobile ke? palm?

Now you know why I laugh a lot. With pals like these, it's hard to keep a straight face for long. Hee!

Was walking in the car park on Fri and suddenly twisted my left ankle over an uneven slope. After 3 days of constant pain, my mom firmly took me to the hospital to have my ankle checked. The X-rays showed that there is a slight fracture and that I needed to give it a rest. For someone who loves being mobile and active, this is sad news indeed. Am immobilized for the next 2 weeks :(

Part 6: Betty's Woes

Continuation from:
1. The First Engagement
2. Old Clear-Oof to the Rescue
3. Dog Tricks
4. Serving God, Queen and Country
5. Vern's Dilemma


That very afternoon, unbeknownst to each other, three guys left tokens of their undying devotions to Betty. Two items were slipped through the door of her bedroom and one item was artfully dangled on her pink doorknob.

Betty stared at the box of chocolates from Fattie, a piece of paper containing a poem of undying love from Vern and a charming locket from Larrie on her hands and gave an unladylike howl.

"How could they do this to me?" she said pitiously to Dotty who was with her. "How dare they jest with my feelings?"

My brain was way too fried to report much on my Rotary experience yesterday. Note to self: Must recuperate from the one too many late nights I've put up this week. Shall not be tempted with mamak-ing or chatting or CSI-ing. Will go to bed on time... despite the fact that it's Friday and all *sigh*

Alright, here's my account of what transpired. I'll try to make it as interesting as possible. So we shall gloss over the first bits where we:

Thanks to Damansara West Rotary Club and the Wheelchair Foundation, Jude's dad is now a grateful owner of spanking new wheelchair. Take a peek on how it looks like.

Thanks, Lord for prayers answered and for the opportunity to meet people whose greatest passion is to lend a hand to the underprivileged :)