pastries

Nigella. There is something so soothing about watching her carelessly measure cups of flour and grate chocolate, I can literally feel my shoulders loosening up, my inner domestic goddess smiling serenely.

A couple days ago two missionaries rang our doorbell. Well, I didn't know that at first. There was a chinese guy who spoke to me in halting Malay, then the mat salleh guy accompanying him asked if I could speak English. Having replied the affirmative, he asked me if I had heard of God's name. All this while I was standing barefoot in my pajamas with smudged glasses and messy hair(belum mandi).

We talked a bit more, then he asked to read me a line from the Scriptures(?), to which I said sure, why not. He seemed somewhat surprised that I agreed and all the more nervous. He fumbled with his Bible, his voice was hushed and a bit shaky while he read, his eyes were blue.

When we were done he thanked me for my time and bade me good day, while I smiled and wished him the same. I guess most other houses they'd visited must have given them a frosty treatment, they seemed very surprised and nervous with my courtesy, like they weren't used to it.

Did you see the Nadal/Verdasco match just now? Insane. Not that I'm a tennis follower(or any sport, for that matter), but it was grueling. 5 hours! And hear ye, hear ye: When watching such a match, it is best not to sit next to Rafa's most impassioned supporter(a.k.a. my sister). It can get ugly. If you must do so, sit quietly, and make not any sudden movements.

Danish pastry. Now there's a thought.