Lilypie Third Birthday tickers

Wednesday, January 21, 2009


As you can see, Stardust is not as excited as I am.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009


Laundry is done and hanging up to dry. Dishes are washed and put away. Floor is swept. A pot of stewed nectarines is cooling on an iron trivet. And we are quickly away and out into the afternoon.
I rather regret choosing the Stardust's perambulator, even though we have gotten quite good use out of it from when he was about a month old. It's a sturdy thing, but bulky and difficult for a single person to manage. I pray that our route today is free from stairs, escalators, narrow aisles or bumpy cobblestones. There's no way I can safely tote Stardust on my hip whilst attempting to use both hands to open or close the stroller. Fortunately, the buses here are wheelchair-friendly (hopefully, we will see more of these in Singapore soon) so it is easy to hop on and ride down to the harbour for the two of us.
On the dock, Stardust waves eagerly at passing seagulls, yachts, sausage dogs. We stop at a nearby cafe for a drink of water. Stardust is learning to observe his world and I am happy to give him a running commentary on the people we see. People-watching is a skill.
I find myself telling him a long and involved story about the intricacies of an elderly gentleman's double-life as a shuriken-wielding spy. Stardust is looking at me with a very puzzled expression and I realise that I have been watching far too many movies. I am suddenly tired - it's time to go home.

Monday, January 19, 2009


It's a bright blue day, and we're sitting under the blue, over the blue, beside the blue, watching big blue bubbles floating by.
Maybe this afternoon I'll take Stardust and teach him how to kick cans.
Maybe we'll go to the fancy store strip and count Gucci Poochies.
It's a world of possibilities.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

We're off to see the Wizard

We arrived early, so I took Stardust for a walk in the afternoon (an unheard of priviledge in sticky Singapore).

Stardust was beautifully behaved on the plane, but he became rather crochety towards the end and was having a pouty sulk (despite the efforts of the flight staff to entertain him). I thought that a little bit of scenery might cheer him up and being in the sunlight would help him to adjust to the new time zone. Or perhaps I really wanted to exhaust the little feller so he'd have a good sleep.

The air had a buttery smell of sunshine whilst we trundled through the park. We passed by families having picnics, students sunbathing whilst reading their textbooks, frisbee-playing dogs, old men gossiping whilst feeding pigeons. We watched the sleeping ducks bob up and down, all bundled up like little loaves of brown bread. On the banks of the pond, ibis stood to attention in scarlet uniforms, long beaks glinting. A red cat was hunting for beetles in the bulrushes. Stardust called to him, and he peered over his shoulder to survey us with disdainful grey eyes.

We walked on, chatting and singing, until I realised that I was holding a conversation with myself and Stardust had gone quiet. Peeking round into his stroller, I saw he was hunched up on one side, blinking at the world with glazed eyes. I brought him back to our room, and he only murmured a half-hearted protest as I popped him into his cot for a snooze.

And now I better get to bed - I have a feeling that tonight's sleep may be rather interrupted!

Monday, January 12, 2009

Not acceptable

I know I haven't seen you for 10 years.
I know it was a good idea to meet up over lunch and 'catch up on old times'.

But for goodness sakes, if you wanted to sell me something, just tell me and we'll make it a business lunch and next time, I'll leave the baby at home!


Thursday, January 08, 2009

Writer's block

My fingers are on the keyboard and they will not move. I have been looking at the screen for nearly an hour, watching the cursor blinking. My eyes are blinking too and my brain appears to be on the blink, as I attempt to construct a sentence.

I must hurry. Stardust is napping and I can hear his rhythmic breathing, but he might wake up soon. I peer nervously into his cot. His little eyes are buttoned up tight to shut out the world, silky brown lashes fluttering ever so slightly as he dreams. He smiles in his sleep and a tiny dimple appears in one cheek. I put my finger in his palm and his hand curls up around it and I remember what I am to do.

"Dear Sir,
I am writing to inform you of my decision to resign..."

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

Sing to the dawn

During this year just gone...
we've changed our lives so completely with the addition of a new little life.

What does God have in store for us in the year to come?
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