Kelly's cookies are like crack,man.
The crafty girl split her batch into two and made one with white chocolate chips and macadamias. Anyone who knows me (well, that's not true. I think only Kelly knows this) knows that white chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies are my supreme weakness out of all the variation of chocolate chip cookies. Especially large, soft, chewy ones. I weep. With joy.
Confronted with A WHOLE TIN of these decadent treats, of course I succumbed. Meaning I ate cookie after cookie after cookie. I don't know if it's because of the cold weather and unnecessary survival instincts taking over, or if it's just gluttony, but I can't stop eating, full-stop. Part of me goes "NOOOOOOO!", another part of me goes "I am not going deny myself the pleasure of cookies. Life's too short not to enjoy cookies", while another part of me logically concludes "Well, I'll just eat them all now. Then there won't be any left to tempt me later. Genius".
So I've been spending a large chunk of the day in my pajamas, eating warm cookies, reading food blogs, and I can tell you that this is a variation of lazy bliss previously not experienced.
Must. Get. Off. Arse.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Cookies
I've never had a casual job before.
Can you imagine? Never worked as a waitress, never an attendant at the neighbourhood Petronas station, or a cashier at Giant. I didn't work an iota in the 3 months waiting for my SPM results, and when I got to Melbourne, I did get working rights attached with my visa, but didn't actually work. Oy.
If I ever have a children, once they've completed their SPM (or whatever variation the public examination would have morphed into by then), I'll give them a month tops to chill, and then will proceed to drag them kicking and screaming if I have to to the nearest Secret Recipe (I don't know, for some reason I automatically think of Secret Recipe when I think of post-SPM employment).
And when the children look at me in puzzlement and ask why I insist on them getting a job, I will tell them they will thank me years down the line when they are compiling their first resume and see that the working experience they have is not limited to a solitary internship they did in their second year of uni. And they will proceed to further throw rose petals at my feet when they are trying to get a gig as a waiter/waitress in a foreign country and realise that most of the offerings comes with a requirement of previous experience.
Anyway.
Yesterday I had this one-day job involving mailing work. My first sort of casual work in any form, and it was easy, if repetitive. Thoughts gathered throughout the day:
Fell asleep at nine, woke up at ten in the morning and let out a yelp of delight when I saw Kelly had made a whole tin-full of chocolate chip cookies. That I now can't stop eating.
Can you imagine? Never worked as a waitress, never an attendant at the neighbourhood Petronas station, or a cashier at Giant. I didn't work an iota in the 3 months waiting for my SPM results, and when I got to Melbourne, I did get working rights attached with my visa, but didn't actually work. Oy.
If I ever have a children, once they've completed their SPM (or whatever variation the public examination would have morphed into by then), I'll give them a month tops to chill, and then will proceed to drag them kicking and screaming if I have to to the nearest Secret Recipe (I don't know, for some reason I automatically think of Secret Recipe when I think of post-SPM employment).
And when the children look at me in puzzlement and ask why I insist on them getting a job, I will tell them they will thank me years down the line when they are compiling their first resume and see that the working experience they have is not limited to a solitary internship they did in their second year of uni. And they will proceed to further throw rose petals at my feet when they are trying to get a gig as a waiter/waitress in a foreign country and realise that most of the offerings comes with a requirement of previous experience.
Anyway.
Yesterday I had this one-day job involving mailing work. My first sort of casual work in any form, and it was easy, if repetitive. Thoughts gathered throughout the day:
- I actually dig repetitive work. It's sort of meditative, much like that serenity experienced when folding a baking mixture (God, I love doing that).
- I was getting paid a rather ridiculously large sum for the sort of work I was doing, if I thought about it.
- I was working in what I think now of as the 'lawyers area', and couldn't help feel excited that the other people in the exchange I was delivering letters in were all barristers or law clerks. How cool are you people? Or why am I attaching such coolness with you?
- By the end of the day I was so tired I couldn't think straight. How could easy work become tiring? And it was cold. And I was hungry. But I got paid. Cha-ching.
Fell asleep at nine, woke up at ten in the morning and let out a yelp of delight when I saw Kelly had made a whole tin-full of chocolate chip cookies. That I now can't stop eating.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Flashback
Today is a gloomy day, all gray and dark, weather that doesn't encourage excursions outside. I'm half-wishing it would rain, storm, even. Stormy afternoons remind me of our house back in Ampang, when I'd come down to the kitchen to get a snack of some sort, and see it pouring cats and dogs outside the window, or maybe just about to, thunder growling. The front door would be closed of course, mom would open it first thing in the morning and keep it open with her door-stopper, a row of ducks, but in the afternoons she would close it before she went upstairs to her room to rest.
Everything would be dark and muted, the house would be quiet. Perfect time for napping, but I never did. I'd get something to eat from the fridge, maybe leftovers, maybe heat up one of those slices of frozen pizza mom stocked up for us.Then back upstairs to my room, to a good book and a hot snack. Contentment.
Everything would be dark and muted, the house would be quiet. Perfect time for napping, but I never did. I'd get something to eat from the fridge, maybe leftovers, maybe heat up one of those slices of frozen pizza mom stocked up for us.Then back upstairs to my room, to a good book and a hot snack. Contentment.
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