In a few days time, we are flying to Perth to witness Hubs's sister's graduation. Of course with it, comes the usual "do you need anything from Malaysia" so that I can get it over the next few days and bring along with us to Perth. One of the pressie that Hubs intend to get for one of his nephew is comics because that's what the boy is into now.
Over the weekend when I was at the malls, I realised the comic scene has evolved. I think... In Popular bookstore, there's a lot of those manga/anime type that's translated into English and Bahasa Malaysia. I just couldn't find any of those thin Marvel comic "magazine".
I decided to try my luck at Borders. When I was there, I realised that they have called them as "Graphic Novels" these days. And the one thing that stood out in all these comics is that they are no longer sold in thin magazine like how they used to be when we were growing up, that one have to buy like 20-30 of these thin magazines in order to complete the series. The Marvel ones that I saw in Borders are at least 0.5 cm thick and certainly felt like the entire series were bound into books. And they weren't cheap. The going price seems to be RM 60 plus but felt more upmarket because they looked like they weren't printed on newspaper type of paper.
Anyway, I haven't buy any, because I wasn't sure if these were what Hubs is intending to buy for his nephew. But at least we know where to get it before we leave.
On a separate note, at a different Borders outlet, I noticed this rather disturbing comic. I didn't look through the content, but the cover itself is a cause for concern. A lot of parents would think nothing much of their children reading comics. After all, it's just drawn cartoons of action figures. But having seen this, I personally feel that as modern parents, one just can't afford to be too laissez faire. I'll just let the picture do the talking.
Just before Christmas last year, while window shopping at Borders @ the Curve, I stumbled across Chef Michael Smith cookbook. Now he is one chef whose show I love to watch. A lot. Because he made cooking looked so simple and easy. And I love how he talked the viewers through, in his easy-going and laid-back manner. And most of all - I love his walk-in pantry. Rows after rows of dried herbs and ingredients that's so easy to look and reach out for. That is my homemaker's ambition - to have a walk-in pantry like that. LOL!
Anyway, since I love his show so much, I also told myself that if Chef Michael ever publish any cookbook that I can easily get my hands on, I'm gonna buy it. So imagine my delight when I saw the cookbook in Borders. But it's all wrapped up in clear plastic. So off I trotted to the service counter and asked for assistance/permission to take a look inside.
The guy who served me, I would say I'm really really impressed by his customer service. He's a Malay chap, really really chatty and with a quirky demeanour to hoot! Come to think of it, his demeanour actually reminded me of Harith Iskandar. So he started asking me who's this chef and la, la, la... And I went into how much I love Chef Michael's show and his walk-in pantry. He also asked me if I'm a serious buyer of the book. I said I would like to take a look before deciding. He opened the wrappers anyway and told me that if I decided not to buy, just leave the book back at the service counter.
After browsing through, I was 50/50 on whether to buy or not. But I guess I fell for the friendly customer service that I received and decided Heck! Just buy it la. When I was paying for the book, again more small talk, and he asked me if I have Borders loyalty card. I said I wasn't sure, went flipping through my purse and his sharp eyes saw it before me and help me to fish it out. And then he made extra care to deactivate any sensors in the book. I mentioned in passing that as I was coming into Border earlier, my shopping may have a sensor that triggered the alarm. He went the extra mile and offered to deactivate it for me. But somehow there wasn't any hidden in my shopping.
He then asked could it be my bag? I didn't think so but handed it over to him to deactivate it. And to my surprise it was my bag. When he handed back my bag to me, I looked thoroughly inside to search for the sensor strip but just cannot find it. It was so weird! Until today. Apparently it was hidden in my purse all this while.
This is a very unusual post about Chinese New Year. Unusual in the sense that I'm not blogging about all the preparations required to usher in CNY. But rather how I feel about CNY this year.
I've been spending a bit of time in Malaysia for the past 3 weeks or so. With all these extra time, I decided to drive back to my hometown in Kluang, Johor to spend some time with my parents. And since it's near CNY, it's also time to go and help them with spring cleaning.
This year's spring cleaning has been rather unusual. Just before I was due back in Kluang, my mother fell really ill. She had high fever consecutively for 3-4 days that refused to subside. By the time I hear about it, it was the night before I was due back in Kluang. My father had decided to check her into the hospital hoping that the doctors could test her for dengue test. The doctors however didn't, because apparently in order to do the test, the patient has to have fever and malaise for 5 days. I was a bit worried because I feared it could be something worse like meningitis.
Anyway, by the time I reach home, my mother seemed to have regain a bit of her strength. Her fever had subsided somewhat. And as the days passed, she was getting better and on the mend. However, a hacking cough plagued her. And for the life of me, I cannot recall an occasion when I was growing up that my mother coughed this bad. In fact, my mother has never cough at all.
And of course with the cough and the fever that she was recovering from, my mother just couldn't pluck enough energy to do major spring cleaning. My father did most of it, while I helped out as much as I could. This is my realisation that my parents are old.
Then there was a funeral that I had to drive both my mother and grandmother to attend in Segamat. My mother's grandaunt had passed away. Visiting the grandaunt's home was a surreal experience for me - seeing it from both child's and adult eyes and remembering of how the house used to look like compared to present time and the pervasive smell of rubber cup lump from memory. And the numerous grand aunts and uncles that I vaguely remember and seeing that one by one they had aged as well. Accompanying them to this funeral, just nailed it deeper into my consciousness that my parents and grandmother are old.
The final affirmation came when I left Kluang last Saturday to come back to KL to catch up on work and wait for Hubs arrival from Jakarta. When I finally exited the highway to turn off to my own home, I felt this familiar yet strange lump of sadness and feelings of homesick. It caught me by surprise. It has been a long time since I felt this way. The last I remember feeling like this was when I was 18 years old and studying in KL. Everytime my sisters and I had to leave Kluang after a semester break, we always felt homesick and can't help to shed a tear or two that we had to go back to KL for our studies.
And that Saturday night, while browsing and viewing some of the annual, schmaltzy CNY festive commercials that place a lot of emphasis of family unity, filial piety and all the works, I came across this video, posted by one of my friends on Facebook. Its title - A letter from Mom and Dad.
Personally, I thought this was THE best infomercial about cherishing one's parents I've seen for this CNY, although I can't really call this a commercial because it isn't. For me, it is a bittersweet explanation, realisation, come-of-age, the dawn of a new awakening, lightbulb moment (call it what you want) for all the experiences that I've encountered the week before. That my parents ARE old. They are NOT getting old.
CNY is upon us in just 3 more sleeps. I wish you who happen to be reading this a very prosperous year and more importantly, a blessed and blissful family reunion and family time ahead.
