“Book ‘er, Dan-o!” That’s Jack-Lord-speak from Hawaii Five-O. Probably the first of my guilty pleasures since I started watching TV. He’d have cuffed me as I plead guilty for loving:
1. ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” & “Mama Mia”
2. Ugly Betty and its Spanish predecessor “Betty La Fea”
3. Beyonce’s “Crazy In Love” video
4. Fifth Dimension’s “If I Could Reach You”
5. Tom Jones’ “It’s Not Unusual”
6. Melissa Manchester “Don’t Cry Out Loud”
7. Harry Belafonte’s songs
8. The Sound of Music, movie and soundtrack
9. Star Trek
11. Journey’s “Faithfully”
12. CHiPs, yep, with Erik Estrada
13. Six Million Dollar Man
14. Knots Landing
15. Helen Reddy’s “You and Me Against the World”
16. Nelson’s “Love and Affection”
17. The Association’s “Never My Love”
18. Elvis Presley’s “Suspicious Minds”
19. Tour of Duty
20. Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends
21. The New Schmoo
22. Priscilla Queen of the Desert
23. 7th Heaven
24. Wacky Races
25. Outkast’s “Hey Ya”
26. Falcon Crest
27. Misfits of Science
28. The A-Team
29. E News
30. Cat Stevens’ “Father & Son”
I can’t help it. I grew up on most of them and some I love for sentimental reasons. Not Beyonce, of course. Although thinking about how I could never have a body like hers make me want to cry.
I danced my crazy dances with Papa while Harry Belafonte Banana Boat Song played on our turntable. And I always felt “Don’t Cry Out Loud”, like “You and Me Against the World”, was a song about Mama and me though I hardly understood the lyrics. I sang “If I Could Reach You” in my head for a boy I had a big love for. While The Sound of Music was the first movie I ever saw (and I’ve seen it at least a hundred times after). Star Trek is a peek into my geekhood, while Ugly Betty is a good reason to block off my Sunday nights. The rest, hard to admit, but yes, I love them, Tom Jones included. My list can go on and on but I have to run. Another guilty pleasure awaits – a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Marsha Marsha Marshmallow.
John Lennon sang this to his baby boy. I had planned to have a little boy myself, and a little girl to sing to. But that doesn’t seem to be the life I’m supposed to live.
I had planned to leave my college with a degree in tow but I instead I went AWOL and started working before graduation.
I had planned to follow after my aunt’s footsteps and become a lawyer but I ended up in advertising.
I had planned to shift careers but more than a decade later, I am still in the same job.
I had planned to share many years with loved ones but they passed on earlier than expected.
Am I disappointed that none of my so-called plans have been fulfilled? Not entirely.
I always believe that things turn out a certain way for a reason. While some are borne of my own decisions, others, well, it’s life taking over. For those times that my mind can’t comprehend, I can only pray to my Lord. “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I can’t change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Most things in my life have not turned out the way I wanted them to. They actually turned out better.
Being an only child with only toys for playmates, I was a good candidate for imaginary friendships. Well, I do remember carrying conversations with my stuffed toys and pet chicks and dogs and hearing them answer in my head. But none to the extent of conjuring images the likes of those from Madam Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. Wish I had and if I did, I want it to be something like Bloo, short for Blooregard Q. Kazoo. Sure, he’s obnoxious, irritating, and utterly mischievous. And to top it all, he’s totally clueless that he is annoying, forever wanting to be the best imaginary friend ever but always ending up the other way. I think he’d make a good one, if you ask me. He is everything I wasn’t able to be when I was little because there was no one else I can be obnoxious to, irritate or play mischief on. He says the most inappropriate things with no regard for propriety. He has an almost careless innocence that drives him to leap before he looks. Some may not appreciate his antics but we all could use a little Bloo within us all. Sometimes, we need that spark of mischief to make our lives a little bit more interesting, even if it only happens inside our heads.
Over the weekend, hubby and I had a sudden craving for salmon. Read somewhere that if you had fits like this, it’s actually your body’s way of telling you what it needs. In our case, it must be fish oils. It seems the 1000mg of omega-3 supplement we take isn’t enough or our bodies just like food names with more letters than we pronounce, like broccoli or Worcestershire sauce.
So with that as a good excuse to go fish-crazy, we headed to Cold Storage and got our half a pound of salmon fillet and a few condiments I remembered from one recipe I downloaded from the Internet called Baked Salmon Dijon. It’s so easy to do and tasty too, I highly recommend it to fish-lovers who’d like a simple, restaurant-style salmon dish in just half an hour.
You’ll need: 1 cup light or fat-free sour cream, 2 tsps dried dill weed, 3 tbsps scallions, 2 tsps lemon juice, 2 tbsps Dijon mustard, salmon fillet, garlic powder and black pepper.
Make the dressing by mixing the first 5 ingredients in a bowl then set aside. Place salmon fillet (skin side down) on a baking pan brushed with a little olive oil. Cover salmon with garlic powder and pepper and spread the dressing all over it. Pop in a pre-heated oven (200C) and bake for 20 minutes. Serve with corn and carrots, unsalted chips, or potatoes.
I don’t know if everyone prayed for a respite or the gods are just preparing us for the deluge ahead, but it seems like this Monday’s workload is turning out to be quite light. Apart from preparing mpgs and pdfs for submission to our network’s quarterly review, there’s not much for me to do. No running up and down the corridor to check on FA’s, no debriefs, meetings, job orders due in the afternoon on the same day. Better not speak too soon, though. Things have a way of turning out not the way you expect them. So in the meantime, let’s see if I can go back to my blogging ways.
My hubby Mike recently discovered iLike and he doesn’t just like it, he’s totally smitten. He’s organized his iTunes, added tons of music to his own library (one in the office, one at home) and to top it all, he’s made more “friends” in one day on iLike than he has in the past 2 years. He’s added almost everyone who scored “high” on his compatibility scores. And most of them are young attractive females, some with photos of partial boob exposure. Hmm. I not like. But seriously, it doesn’t really bother me. Really. Mike like me more, don’t ya, Mike?
When the going gets stuff, I go chicken rice. It’s my official go-to local food when I can’t decide what to eat or I have no other choice. When office friends invite Mike and I to lunch in some unfamiliar hawker center, we’d immediately seek out the stall where freshly broiled fowls hung behind the glass counter. When in post prod house and I’m asked what I’d like for dinner, I’ll waste no time saying, “chicken rice.” There was even a time when I had chicken rice almost everyday for close to 3 months! I was only a few months old in Singapore then, and about that time, I think I gained as much as 10 pounds. Well who wouldn’t, what with that succulent roasted chicken paired with rice steamed in chicken broth and wanton soup on the side. Mmmmm. Wherever I got them, they never let me down. Come to think of it, I never had a lousy serving of chicken rice. It’s probably because my tastebuds didn’t grow up on it and I wouldn’t know if the dish was not done the way it should be. (Although I tried one version with a gooey brown gravy and it still tasted like… chicken rice.) I ate it until it came out of my ears until the time came when the smell of oily chicken made my skin crawl and I went into a semi-healthy salad phase. Recently, my stomach’s love affair with chicken rice was rekindled because my other default lunch stall closed. Just this lunch, my feet lead me to the chicken rice stall at the food court and as usual, I’m a satisfied customer, like a cat licking her paws after a hearty serving of Tweety bird. Yum yum.