Durian session

Some liken the pungent odour to a pair of overused, sweaty socks; others will drive for miles and kill their closest kin to find and savour the perfect fruit.

I obviously belong to the latter group and found it only fitting to celebrate the end of my long bout of flu with a round of the thorny fruit. It had been a while since we last binged on durians (we used to have ‘durian parties’; aptly named because we had nothing but, er, durians!), so when Penny suggested that we take a short drive to the nearby market to get some I was all for it.

They are probably in oversupply this year because we were spoilt for choice when we reached the stall. Normally price-tagged by weight, there were D24s that were priced according to size – ranging from $1 each for small ones about the size of my head to $3 each for larger ones about the size of Andre the Giant’s head.

Not wanting to look el cheapo, we settled for the $2 ones because they didn’t look very much smaller than their $3 counterparts. We singled out about five of these little babies and proceeded to consume them kampung style – squatting on the floor and prying them open barbarically with my bare hands.

Licking every finger on both our hands, we ended our jaunt by picking out another five to pack home.

Akan datang: drum lessons

They say the best way to learn is to teach. Since I started drumming in church again two years ago after my century long hiatus, I have been toying with the idea of taking drum lessons. However, several lame excuses ranging from the lack of time to a supposedly deteriorating hand-eye-leg co-ordination had convinced me otherwise.

Recently, Justin and Natalie, along with their friend Deon, had been bitten by the drumming bug ever since they witnessed an 8 year old girl playing in their church's worship team. 'If she can do it, so can we' became the order of the day for the past few weeks. Since their parents saw no sense in signing them up for lessons or getting them a drum set to annoy the neighbours with, I volunteered to give them free lessons and probably a jam session or two. What better way to go back to basics than to hustle a couple of kids, eh?

Lesson number one was, of course, getting some sticks for the kids since all my spares were 5Bs and too big for their hands. Not being able to find anything suitable at the crappy Yamaha retail store, we headed down to Drum Resources as I only trusted Nigel and nobody else. True enough, he actually stocked some Pro Mark Junior sticks, which I eventually bought for Natalie and Velouria (who INSISTED on having her own pair as well). For Justin and Deon, a pair of medium weight, ball tipped 7As each ince I reckoned their grubby paws were huge enough to hang on to a regular pair of sticks.

Lesson number two will commence at the next Hushhouse jamming session at Mel's place. But first they'll have their exams to contend with.

Light at the end of the tunnel

A strange sense of deja vu had been plaguing me the past few months. It seemed that my life has been moving in circles and I kept asking God where all this was leading me to. Desperately wanting to understand God's will for my life, I was worshipping and waiting upon the Lord more fervently that I was normally used to.

I have always wondered to God why he never gave me an interest or talent in the financial, real estate or business arena - stuff that would REALLY earn the big bucks. And suddenly, like an epiphany, He pointed me towards the direction of education. It was like a refreshing splash of cool, clear water on my otherwise sullen and distraught spirit. I had been lamenting about not being able to find a job that I enjoy or something that was recession proof so that I didn't have to keep worrying about whether the gloomy economy would affect my paycheck and other similary nonsensical thoughts.

It was an epiphay because I had always loved teaching. I love working with children because it gives me a sense of immense satisfaction by imparting my life skills and knowledge to the younger generation with the hope that my (sometimes harsh) words would help mould them into valuable and effective individuals in future.

Going so far as to submit an application for a teaching post with MOE (which I never got a reply for so I assumed that is water under the bridge), I had a friend who introduced me a training post in a company which specialises in 'contextual learning'. The beauty of this system is that it not only applies to the education field, but can also be used for corporate training. It's basically a psychological technicality that simpletons like me would not be able to wrap my mind around. Yet.

I'm not at liberty to share too many details. Yet. But God has been great and I can finally see that small glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. God had opened a floodgate of blessing which I am suddenly afraid to take on because I know I am not capable of handling it with my own strength. I continue to wait upon the Lord to guide me.

I'm humbled and awe-struck by what God has revealed to my heart. All I had to do was just trust and seek him.

Hungry for Hungarian Goulash

It's hard to find a nice, thick Hungarian Goulash these days. I'm talking those with chunky bits of beef, potatoes, carrots and beans. Instead, the order of the day seems to be those sissy, diluted ones with no beef in sight (probably just strands of it) and what I absolutely detest is that they stew it so long till the teeny cubes of potatoes just melt away in your mouth before you can even land your molars on them.

We chanced upon Soup-erlicious, a soup café (which are another dime in a dozen these days), in Suntec one weekend. After walking around in Carrfefour, Vel complained that she was hungry and wanted some bread. Thinking that how boring it was just to eat bread alone, I suggested why not have some soup to go along after sighting the café as the nearest eatery to go to as we stepped through the check out counters. In actual fact, it was a ploy to find something substantial to fill my stomach as I was feeling slightly peckish as well.

To my amazement, the goulash was wonderful! It came with pieces of foccacias cut up into rectangular blocks (making it ultra easy for dipping) and the soup was the thick, gooey and chunky kind that I loved and missed so dearly. The soup was fragrant and flavourful, yet the beef was tender and the chunks of potatoes and carrots still had a nice crunch to them.

It was supposed to be a snack but the bowl was so huge that after draining it dry and wiping up the sides with the foccacia, I was stuffed (not Velouria though)!

Yummy indeed! I’ll definitely be back for more. My next target – Wild Mushroom Soup!

Dinosaur eggs and Bee-Bee

Another sign of my entry into premature mid-life crisis – I’ve been longing for snacks that I used to nibble on as a kid. For some strange reason, I had been reminiscing about those colourful little egg-shaped candies that we used to affectionately call ‘dinosaur eggs,’ owing to the colourful and speckled exterior of the chewy confection. Just the mere pondering on where I could get some kept me awake on many countless nights.

Surprisingly, I chanced upon these little treasures at the mamak stall tucked away in a discreet corner when we were at Bras Basah Complex one day. Of course, I bought a pack (along with a couple of packets of Bee-Bee to go around) and savoured them sparingly over the next few days (there are still a couple left in the fridge).

What can I say? Shiok, man!

The H.E.A.R.T. of worship

Attended RHC's worship workshop cum audition held by Aidan on Saturday. I'd been looking forward to this day since I read about it on the monthly flyer three weeks back. Honestly, I couldn't wait to getting back to playing with a worship team but yet felt somewhat consternated as I knew the people here seemed to be more technically inclined than what I was used to back at NCS i.e. there was no more ‘blur in, blur out’ anymore!

As a member of the worship team, I was taught that we should offer our best to God in terms of skill which involved constant practice and an effort towards self-improvement. Frankly, I didn't think my drumming was anything fantastic given the fact that I'd never had any professional training and am beginning to feel my co-ordination (or lack thereof?) get the better of me. That, of course, also does not mean that an absolutely tone deaf person should attempt to sing back-up.

I'd become so preoccupied with giving God my best that I'd forgotten to check what I was offering to Him. Psalm 78:72 says that ‘…with integrity of heart, with skillful hands he led them’. To put it simply, the skills are as every bit as important as the heart, one is not of more importance than the other. While not exactly a revelation, this concept has sort of been relegated to the back of my mind as I became preoccupied with learning the guitar (with the hope of picking up the bass some day) and drumming my a** off week after week.

The H.E.A.R.T. of worship consists being:
Humble – humbled by God’s awesome grace
Expectant – that God will pour out His presence in the midst of our worship and do something radical in our hearts.
Attentive – to how the Holy Spirit is moving
Real – God asks us to worship in spirit and in truth
Together – every individual united as one to build God’s house and see that His will is done (dialokismos in Greek – means to be of one mind and one accord)

Damn cheem. But still essential nevertheless.

Pigging out - a 'hum'-ful night

Penny was down with a really bad bout of flu for the past two weeks. When she finally did recover (not fully), we thought that it was only fitting that we celebrated it with a rather restrained pig out session at East Coast hawker centre (which is kind of an oxymoron when you think about it) since we didn't want her falling sick again soon after she had gotten well. Having being deprived of all the evil fried and oily food for the duration of her illness, she was craving for all the wrong things.

We started our feast with a plate of chicken wings, some satay and a couple of drinks. When we realised that all that stuff could barely fill us, Penny went in search of more grub to gobble up. Gone for a good ten minutes, she returned with a plate of the famous (but only okay by my standards - I still prefer the one at Balestier) satay bee hoon and, horror of horrors, a plate of see hum!

Armed with a toothpick and a saucer of sambal belachan, we went at it and soon all that was left was splattered blood and a pile of shells on the table. The cockles were barely cooked but that was what gave them that signature crunchiness. I never felt so disgusted but yet equally satisfied at the same time.

As always, we left rubbing our tummies, deeply satisfied with our meal.